He had heard
of Kopf's death.
It was half after five of the afternoon. Six miles beyond the
Althofen bridge, in all thirteen miles from Bleiberg, a long,
low cloud of dust hung over the king's highway. This cloud of
dust was caused by the hurried, rhythmic pad-pad of human feet,
the striking of hoofs and the wheels of cannon. It marked the
progress of an army. To the great surprise of the Marshal, the
prince and the staff, they had pushed thus far during the
afternoon without seeing a sign of the enemy. Was Madame asleep?
Was she so confident her projects were unknown that she had
chosen night as the time of her attack? Night, indeed, when the
strength of her forces would be a matter of conjecture to the
assaulted, who at the suddenness of her approach would succumb
to panic! The prince was jubilant and hopeful. He had no doubt
that they would arrive at the pass just as Madame was issuing
forth. This meant an easy victory, for once the guns covered the
narrow pass, though Madame's army were ten times as strong, its
defeat was certain. A small force might hold it in check for
hours.
A squadron of cuirassiers had been sent forward to reconnoiter,
and as yet none had returned with alarms.
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