"When they sing like that, and I think of what they shall soon be
called upon to do--I can hardly endure it!" she whispered.... They
stood with backs against the wall, as the tail of the column moved
past. "Look at that weary one--so spent and sick--yet trying to sing--"

They were in the silence again. Across the river, against the red
background, they watched another column of foot-soldiers moving like a
procession of ants erect; and beyond, on the dim plain, a field
battery, just replenished to war footing, was toiling with tired
beasts and untried pieces. Mowbray thought of the human meat being
herded in Austria for those great rakish guns, as the infantry below
was being trained for distant slaughter arenas.

"Do speak, Peter," she whispered.

He turned to find her white face looking up to him and very close.
They were alone.

"You won't mind if I think about myself this once?" he asked.

"Please do."

"I only want to say that, if you'll stay where you are, I'll come back
from this stuff--I was going to say, dead or alive."

"Do you mean I am to stay in Warsaw?" she asked.

"No--not that exactly. I mean if you will stay where you are in regard
to me----"