men departed to carry away the corpse of Holay. We did no more firing. We looked continually in the direction in which they were bearing the Major. His horse galloping with flying mane disappeared somewhere near the road among the trees.
About an hour later the enemy infantry retired and our division returned to the main army. We went without a word, agitated and with misgivings. Constantly I saw in my mind’s eye Major Holay, his severe, milky-pale face and his blinking eyes. Even a strange grief filled my being and to my mind there kept coming, along the way, affecting memories of various incidents experienced with Major Holay. At times I was convinced that Major Holay was in reality a good man and I said, finally, aloud, “He was misunderstood, misunderstood!”
Hardly had we rejoined our company when our Captain, with ruddy face, rode out on his horse. Schuster stepped forward and announced to him what had happened.
“I know,” answered the Captain severely. “The shot came from our division. The bullet found in the breast of Major Holay is our bullet.” Then he turned to us. “Who did it?” he asked, raising himself on his stout mare.
No one answered. “Let him announce himself!” he shouted. Absolute silence reigned in our ranks. “As you know, in war there is no time for investiga-
