74 STORIES FROM DAUDET

sunset all that remained of the regiment
—a mere handful of men—slowly beat
retreat, the. flag was. but a rag in the
hands of old Hornus, the twenty-third
standard-bearer of that day.

II

This Sergeant Hornus was an old
fool, who could hardly sign his name,
and had taken three years to win his
stripes as under-officer. All the
wretchedness of neglected childhood,
all the degradation of the barrack-
room could be read in the low protrud-
ing forehead, the back bent beneath
the knapsack, the mechanical attitude
of one tramping in the ranks. Besides
this he stammered slightly. But to
be standard-bearer one needs no
eloquence. On the very evening of
the battle his colonel said to him:
‘You hold the flag now, my man
good; keep it.’ And on his poor
coat, already threadbare with rain and