He watched, unmoved, as tens of thousands of soldiers from all corners of France, resplendent in their fine uniforms, fought to the death for him. In his twenty years of military service, he had long since become accustomed to conquest and glory, to danger and death; such scenes no longer stirred him.,He wasn't suffering for himself. He had already tasted the pain of being a prisoner a year ago, and going through it again wasn't the end of the world. He could bear this kind of pain.,He had golden hair and was a little delirious from a bad cold, with large beads of sweat forming on his forehead.。