About a hundred steps from the soldiers, the two lie down on their stomachs. Andre watches the scene in front of him attentively. A few lanterns are hung between the wagons themselves, and there is only one streetlamp casting a glow over the nearest wagon. It is dark between that lamp and the gate lamps.
“We will wait until they attack, Philip.”
“The farmers are late,” mutters Philip. “Wake me up when they come. They should work with Monsieur Jean for a while to learn to hurry themselves.”
“You are all too comfortable and indifferent these days, Philip,” the old man warns him.
Philip, however, does not respond and rests his head on his arms. They wait in silence.
A few minutes later, their trained ears hear the pounding of a multitude of horsemen. It is soft and dull at first, and the
