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Updated: June 10, 2025
"You see," he said, "we skirt these rocks and then we shall ride through the village. One can very well imagine it has been the same always." They entered the little town. The streets were extremely narrow and the dark houses gave an air of mystery a speculation what could be going on behind those closed shutters? Here and there a straight blue-clad figure slunk away round a corner.
He prodded the floating blue-clad thing with his wand, failed, tried again successfully as it came round, and as it went out into the stream it turned over, the light gleamed on golden hair and it was Kurt! It was Kurt, white and dead and very calm. There was no mistaking him. There was still plenty of light for that.
And in the immense grocery store nearby there were beautifully spacious departments worthy of any great city, devoted to rare fruits, and coffees and teas, and every pickle that ever came in a glass bottle, and every little spiced fish that ever came in a gay tin. A white-clad young man "demonstrated" a cake-mixer, a blue-clad young woman "demonstrated" jelly-powders.
His congregation was largely composed of country people from all the districts round, who had journeyed in with their wives and families. There had been an abundant harvest, it was over and stored, and the people had come to give thanks. A great part of the congregation were blue-clad peasants with white handkerchiefs around their heads. Many of them had brought their children with them.
And still, out of the two openings in the dark pines upon the other side of the stream, poured the two blue-clad, steel-crowned columns! Still the staff officer shouted the glad tidings, "Lee surrendered unconditionally." Still waved aloft the dispatch! Still the boundless forests rang with shouts!
The 14th of July is a national holiday in France, the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille. Paris was in gala attire, the scene of a great parade, such as that city had not witnessed in its varied history, when the Allied troops, Belgians, Russians, British, and the blue-clad warriors of France, were reviewed by the President of the Republic amid the frantic acclamations of delighted crowds.
How the "assembly" rings on the morning air! How quick they spring to ranks, those eager bearded faces and trim blue-clad forms! How buoyant and brisk even the elders seem as the captains speed over to their company quarters and the quick, stirring orders are given!
There was no moving track inward to the enlisted Planeteers' squad rooms. He legged it down the corridor in long leaps, muttering apologies as blue-clad spacemen and cadets moved to the wall to let him pass. The squad rooms were on two levels. He looked in the upper ones and found them deserted. The squads were on duty somewhere.
Every morning bands of blue-clad gippies moved out from their lairs behind us, in rough, very rough, military formation, singing their doubtless primeval but rather idiotic chants, laughing, shouting, and generally enjoying life in a way which we admired, but could not imitate.
As for Yates, what words are eloquent enough to do justice to the heroic, determined defense she made there under the shadow of her own goal, when defeat seemed every moment waiting to overwhelm her? Every man in that blue-clad line and back of it was a hero, the kind that history loves to tell of.
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