They spoke among themselves, but all the while the thunder of the hundred-mile battle went on with unremitting ferocity.

John put his ear to the ground now, and the earth quivered incessantly like a ship shaken at sea by its machinery.
The day was now waning fast and he looked at the mass of Uhlans who stood arrayed in the open space, as if they were awaiting an order.
Lieutenant von Arnheim rode back and ordered the guards to march on with them.
There was none too severely wounded to walk and they proceeded in a file through the fields, Uhlans on all sides, but the great mass behind them, where their commander, von Boehlen, himself rode.
The night was almost at hand.

Twilight was already coming over the eastern hills, and one of the most momentous days in the story of man was drawing to a close.

People often do not know the magnitude of an event until it has passed long since and shows in perspective, but John felt to the full the result of the event, just as the old Greeks must have known at once what Salamis or Plataea meant to them.

The hosts of the world's greatest military empire were turned back, and he had all the certainty of conviction that they would be driven farther on the next day.
The little band of prisoners who walked while their Prussian captors rode, were animated by feelings like those of John.