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Updated: June 11, 2025
"What is it, now?" he inquired, and if his tone sounded impatient, it was scarcely to be wondered at. For the battle-scarred veranda and the drenched condition of the room, together with a broken ladder, surely betokened mischief of some sort. "Oh, Carter," cried Marjorie, "never mind us, but can't you take Stella to the house somehow? She was struck by lightning, and she's been dead for hours!
At the reorganization of the regiment and companies, in April, 1862, he was elected Captain of his company, which he commanded to the surrender. He was several times severely wounded, and bears upon his person visible evidences of the battle-scarred veteran. He was regarded by all his comrades as a daring and intrepid officer.
And it soon appeared that Monsieur Gregoriev's confidence was justified. More yet, special favor was shown him. He passed his summer in a long and important journey through Southern Russia, travelling especially through battle-scarred Crimea, and, returning with his report to Moscow, found awaiting him that for which he had vainly intrigued for years.
There the ship was serviced with a celerity that spoke volumes for the importance of her mission even the Aldebaran, the dazzlingly gold-plated queen of the fleet, waited unattended and disregarded on minus time while the entire force of the Interplanetary Corporation concentrated upon the battle-scarred old hulk of the Sirius.
We danced half a dozen times, smiled sweetly on our guests, walked around the paths of the old garden, flirted a little perhaps, and talked big with the male guests, and convinced them anew that we were regular old battle-scarred vets, on detached duty of great importance. Near midnight we all set down to lunch, around the beer tables, and everything was going along smooth.
It was as glorious and as inspiring a banner as any battle-scarred, blood-stained standard of the world and this badge of honor and courage was also blood-stained and battle-scarred, for at several places there were blank squares marking the spots where pieces had been cut out at each of the "Farthests" of its brave bearer, and left with the records in the cairns, as mute but eloquent witnesses of his achievements.
A stranger was Archbishop of Cambrai: Fenelon no longer a counselor of kings a tutor of royalty. His voice was silenced, his pen chained. He was allowed to retire to a rural parish. There he lived with the peasants revered, beloved. The country where he dwelt was battle-scarred and bleeding; the smoke of devastation still hung over it. Not a family but had been robbed of its best.
Aged and battle-scarred veterans who had gone through the great civil war, only a generation before, when brother stood in battle array against brother, father against son, neighbor against neighbor, flocked to the spot where the headless body lay, and stood with blanched faces, struck dumb with amazement, at the boldness of the deed and horrible manner in which it had been committed.
The battle-scarred war horses snuffed the blood and smoke of battle from afar, and champed their bits in anxious impatience. The troopers looked down the line and met the stern faces of their comrades adjusting themselves to their saddles and awaiting the signal for the charge.
For one wild instant she hoped he might slip and fall headlong and his blood be upon the hands of his Maker. Sitting near one another they remained silent, restless-eyed, brooding above the battle-scarred world. As he rose to go he spoke once or twice to her with that haunting softness of voice which had begun to torture her; but her replies were very brief; and he said nothing more.
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