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" An old man in a tattered overcoat sat alone at a table. In tavern was tonight quite loudly. At the bar, a group of men focused on celebrating something uproariously. Some wore strange costumes, like uniforms from many years ago.They especially often approached to one of them, aimed at the ornate uniform, it was obvious that it had just received from the tailor, shook his hand, patted his back and raised toasts. Evidently all made him wishes for some occasion.
- Youngster yet - the old man muttered under his breath. - I wonder how many will come to his birthday, as he had to be twice as old as now - the last words he said already in a normal voice, so that a few people sitting at the tables next looked in his direction.
- This is not birthday, grandpa - a young man, sitting in front of him, threw over his shoulder. He was carrying a notebook in which he was carefully making notes in the last few minutes. - This is one of them, he was promoted to Marshal. Marshal of the Empire or France or something like that ... . Somewhere I wrote ... - Quickly flipped a few pages in a notebook. - Oh I wrote here. Derwinski. Dominik Derwinski. The Pole.About this out there, what is holding the stick - he looked to the notebook. - They call it the marshal's baton.
The old man's face took on strange expression. They began to move his mouth, but the noise was not heard it at all.
- What do you say grandpa? - A young man who really was a journalist,leaned toward him, to hear better.
- ... was also a Pole. As the only not ours and in addition prince, a real prince. I remember, as shouted: "Loyalty and honor" as HE handed him the baton. - The old man said, more to himself than to anyone else.- But how they then fight, especially with the Russians. Although they did not take the Prussians into captivity also. They really hate them. - It looked like a shadow of strange smile passed over his face. - And then came the order to withdraw - when he said it, pushed back his chair and stood up. His jacket opened and underneath it could be seen an old, faded uniform. Only buttons sparkled like new. The strange, there were in the middle of buttons something looks like burning candle or some similar.- Duke jumped ... he was injured but he jumped on his horse... and this last shot ...some said even could be ours. That he was - the prince almost like the king, who died as a soldier.
- Probably a sick mind - thought the journalist. He looked at his watch, he had a few minutes, ordered a taxi to 23.15.He had already done everything to a note about the meeting of the club. He was about to get up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
- Give it to the Pole - wrinkled hand put something on the table, but he did not recognize what, because the old man did not raise his hand from the it. - I say that he is worthy, I see it in his face ...
Hand rose from the table and he saw the strange medal. Shaped like a cross, only that the arms it was one too many. The arms were white, golden eagle in the center and around the eagle an inscription on a blue background.
- Honneur ... et ... petrie ... , patrie. - Some of the letters were hard to read, the blue enamel in a few places disappeared and characters merged with the background. - Honneur et patrie - repeated. - It looks old - turned up for the old man. But the chair was empty, there wasn't also a hat. He looked around, but there was nowhere to be seen an old man in a trench coat and a strange uniform. He saw through the window that pulls up in a taxi. He was about to leave when he turned instinctively to the other side of the medal. - Napoleon ... e .. emp. des ... francais. - Looked up and started to mentally contain words together. Then he turned abruptly toward the chair on which he sat an old man. - No, that's impossible - he waved his hand as if to chase away the haunting fly.Suddenly he remembered the words of the old man. He looked around the tavern, his eyes found the hero of the evening, and quickly walked over to him. - Mr. Derwinski this is for you. Gift - he pushed order to man's hand and turned to the door.- This dream to me - he thought - as soon as I wake up. Or is this tavern makes something as the imagination.
Once he was at the door he heard a loud voice - Gentlemen, thanks - the best gift I got today. But tell me - is it true Legion d'Honneur - not a fake ..."
Sir,
Congratulations and best wishes. We all are very proud and this post is my small gift.
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