He Was Murdered

“He was killed, poor young man! Killed outright! In front of everyone, he rushed into the ambush—and behind everyone he stayed; he stayed in the tight circle of the brave, lying dead beside him. I knew his courage; I knew how swift his horse was—and, astonished that I didn’t see him before me, I felt a cold, dreadful premonition. I looked back: in the smoke, bloodied by shots, his friend’s face flashed; the iron hand of death checked the rider at full gallop—he was thrown up on the air, and the stricken rider was falling from him, swaying…”