The army, too, was moving, or getting ready to move.  Batteries of the splendid French artillery passed before him, squadrons of horsemen galloped by, and regiments of infantry followed.  It all seemed confused, aimless to the eye, but John knew that nevertheless it was proceeding with order and method, directed by a master mind.

Often trumpets sounded and the motion of the troops seemed to quicken.  Now he beheld men from the lands of the sun, the short, dark, fierce soldiers of the Midi, youths of Marseilles and youths of the first Roman province, whose native language was Provencal and not French.  He remembered the men of the famous battalion who had marched from Marseilles to Paris singing Rouget de Lisle’s famous song, and giving it their name, while they tore down an ancient kingdom.  Doubtless, spirits no less ardent and fearless than theirs were here now.

He saw the Arabs in turbans and flowing robes, and black soldiers from Senegal, and seeing these men from far African deserts he knew that France was rallying her strength for a supreme effort.  The German Empire, with the flush of unbroken victory in war after war, could command the complete devotion of its sons, but the French Republic, without such triumphs as yet, could do as well.  John felt an immense pride because he, too, was republican to the core, and often there was a lot in a name.

It was about noon now, and the sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy.  The tall hill and the low hill were clothed in deep green, and the waters of the little river that ran between, sparkled in the light.  The air was crisp with a cool wind that blew from the west, and John felt that the omens were good for the great mysterious movement which he believed to be at hand.

He looked into the tent and saw that Lannes was sleeping soundly, with a good color in his face.  A powerful constitution aided by a strong will had done its work and he was sure that on the morrow Lannes would again be the most daring French scout of the air.

John found the waiting hard work.  There was so much movement and action that he wanted to be a part of it.  He had thrown in his lot with this army and he wanted to share its work at once.  Yet much time passed, and de Rougemont did not return.  The evidences that the great French army was marching to the point designated in the note brought by Lannes multiplied.  From the crest of the hill he already saw large bodies of troops marching forward steadily, their long blue coats flapping awkwardly about their legs.  He wondered once more why they wore such an inharmonious and conspicuous uniform as blue frock coats and baggy red trousers.

He heard presently the martial sounds of the Marseillaise, and the regiment singing it passed very close to him.  The men were nearly all short, dark, and very young.  But the spring and fire with which they marched were magnificent.  As they thundered out the grand old tune their feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth, and fierce eyes glowed in dark faces.