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Chapter 20

           he’spuffingagain,”mutteredTúshintohimself,asasmallcloudrosefromthehillandwasborneinastreaktotheleftbythewind.

           “Nowlookoutfortheball...we’llthrowitback.”

           “Whatdoyouwant,yourhonor?”askedanartilleryman,standingcloseby,whoheardhimmuttering.

           “Nothing...onlyashell...”heanswered.

           “Comealong,ourMatvévna!”hesaidtohimself.“Matvévna”*wasthenamehisfancygavetothefarthestgunofthebattery,whichwaslargeandofanoldpattern.TheFrenchswarmingroundtheirgunsseemedtohimlikeants.Inthatworld,thehandsomedrunkardNumberOneofthesecondgun’screwwas“uncle”;Túshinlookedathimmoreoftenthanatanyoneelseandtookdelightinhiseverymovement.Thesoundofmusketryatthefootofthehill,nowdiminishing,nowincreasing,seemedlikesomeone’sbreathing.Helistenedintentlytotheebbandflowofthesesounds.

           *DaughterofMatthew.

           “Ah!Breathingagain,breathing!”hemutteredtohimself.

           Heimaginedhimselfasanenormouslytall,powerfulmanwhowasthrowingcannonballsattheFrenchwithbothhands.

           “Nowthen,Matvévna,dearoldlady,don’tletmedown!”hewassayingashemovedfromthegun,whenastrange,unfamiliarvoicecalledabovehishead:“CaptainTúshin!Captain!”

           Túshinturnedroundindismay.ItwasthestaffofficerwhohadturnedhimoutoftheboothatGrunth.Hewasshoutinginagaspingvoice:

           “Areyoumad?Youhavetwicebeenorderedtoretreat,andyou...”

           “Whyaretheydownonme?”thoughtTúshin,lookinginalarmathissuperior.

           “I...don’t...

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