Mingling unperceived with the crowd, who were far too highly interested in the recital to pay any attention to my approach, I listened patiently, and soon perceived that mademoiselle was reading some incident of the Egyptian campaign from one of those innumerable volumes which then formed the sole literature of the garrison.
“The redoubt,” continued Minette, “was strongly defended in front by stockades and a ditch, while twelve pieces of artillery and a force of seven hundred Mamelukes were within the works. Suddenly an aide-de-camp arrived at full gallop, with orders for the Thirty-second to attack the redoubt with the bayonet, and carry it. The major of the regiment (the colonel had been killed that morning at the ford) cried out,—
“'Grenadiers, you hear the order,—Forward!' But the same instant a terrible discharge of grape tore through the ranks, killing three and wounding eight others. 'Forward, men! forward!' shouted the major. But no one stirred.”
“Tête d'enfer,” growled out Pioche, “where was the tambour?”
“You shall hear,” said Minette, and resumed.
“'Do you hear me?' cried the major, 'or am I to be disgraced forever? Advance—quick time—march!'
“'But, Major,' said a sergeant, aloud, 'they are not roasted apples those fellows yonder are pelting.'
“'Silence!' called out the major; 'not a word! Tambour, beat the charge!'
“Suddenly a man sprang up to his knees from the ground where he had been lying, and began to beat the drum with all his might. Poor fellow! his leg was smashed with a shot, but he obeyed his orders in the midst of all his suffering.
“'Forward, men! forward!' cried the major, waving his cap above his head. 'Fix bayonets—charge!' And on they dashed after him.