The French line was far behind them and they were within the German zone.

It was better to be resigned, until they saw cause for hope.
When they came to a low point in the eastern bank of the stream the carts turned out, reached a narrow road between lines of poplars and continued their journey eastward.

In the fields on either side John saw detachments of German infantry, skirmishers probably, as they had not yet reached the line of cannon.
"Officer," said John to the German leader, "couldn't you unbind the arms of my friend in the cart here?
Ropes around one's wrists for a long time are painful, and since we're within your lines he has no chance of escape now." The officer looked at Picard and shrugged his shoulders.
"Giants are strong," he said.
"But a little bullet can lay low the greatest of them." "That is so." He leaned from his horse, inserted the point of his sword between Picard's wrists and deftly cut the rope without breaking the skin.
Picard clenched and unclenched his hands and drew several mighty breaths of relief.

But he was a peasant of fine manners and he did not forget them.

Turning to the officer, he said: "I did not think I'd ever thank a German for anything, but I owe you gratitude.