It was our due.

But can the sahib accept his due with a dry eye and a word in his throat?
Nay! It is only ingratitude that a man can swallow unconcerned.

No man spoke.

We rode like graven images, and I think the French women wondered at our silence.

I know that I, for one, felt extremely willing to die for France; and I thought of Ranjoor Singh and of how his heart, too, would have burned if he had been with us.