The
officer was a man about thirty-eight, tall and fine-looking; his eyes
were wide open, clear and bright, and were fixed full on R------ with a
somewhat stern glance, but there was the sweetest and happiest smile over
his face that could be conceived. He seemed to be dead;--at least,
R------ thinks that he did not really see him, fixedly as he appeared to
gaze. The officer held his sword in his hand, and R------ tried in vain
to wrest it from him, until suddenly the clutch relaxed. R------ still
keeps the sword hung up over his mantel-piece. I asked him how the dead
man's aspect affected him. He replied that he felt nothing at the time;
but that ever since, in all trouble, in uneasy sleep, and whenever he is
out of tune, or waking early, or lying awake at night, he sees this
officer's face, with the clear bright eyes and the pleasant smile, just
as distinctly as if he were bending over him. His wound was in the
breast, exactly on the spot that R------ had aimed at, and bled
profusely. The enemy advanced in such masses, he says, that it was
impossible not to hit them unless by purposely firing over their heads.
After the battle, R------ leaped over the rampart, and took a prisoner
who was standing unarmed in the midst of the slain, having probably
dropped down during the heat of the action, to avoid the hail-storm of
rifle-shots.
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