'General! general!' shouted Douay, whose voice, in his surprise and emotion, thundered so loudly that it resounded above all the roar of the artillery. 'General, it is no longer Ducrot who commands, but Wimpffen! Yes, he arrived yesterday, at the very moment of the Beaumont rout, to take De Failly's place at the head of the Fifth Corps—and he writes me that he has a letter from the Minister of War placing him at the head of the army in the event of any vacancy in the command—and the orders to retreat are cancelled, we are to regain and defend our original positions.'

General Bourgain-Desfeuilles was listening with dilated eyes. 'Thunder!' he exclaimed at last, 'we ought to know what we are to do—though for my own part I don't care a rap!'

Then away he galloped, really indifferent as to the issue of the affair, having merely viewed the war at the outset as a means of rapidly attaining to divisional rank, and now simply desiring that this stupid campaign should be brought to an end as soon as possible, since it gave so little satisfaction to everybody.

And now the men of Beaudoin's company burst into a derisive laugh. Maurice said nothing, but he shared the opinion of Chouteau and Loubet, who began to jeer and joke, pouring forth their contempt. Right wheel, left wheel, go as you're told. Nice commanders they had, and no mistake; commanders who agreed so well together, and who didn't want all the blanket to themselves—oh! no, of course not! When men had such generals as those, wasn't it best to go off to bed? Three commanders-in-chief in the space of a couple of hours, three fine fellows who didn't know what ought to be done, and each of whom gave different orders! Really, it was enough to make you feel exasperated, enough to demoralise a saint! And then those fatal charges of treason cropped up afresh—Ducrot and Wimpffen were like MacMahon, they wanted to earn Bismarck's three millions!

General Douay had halted at some little distance in advance of his staff, and there he remained quite alone, gazing at the Prussian positions, and absorbed in a reverie of infinite sadness. For a long time he continued scanning the Hattoy hill, the shells from which were falling close around him. Then, after turning towards the plateau of Illy, he summoned an officer to carry an order to a brigade of the Fifth Corps, which he had obtained from General de Wimpffen the day before, and which connected him with Ducrot's left wing. And he was distinctly heard to remark: 'If the Prussians should obtain possession of the Calvary we could not hold out here for an hour; we should be thrown back on Sedan.'

Thereupon he went off, disappearing with his escort at a bend of the hollow road, whilst the enemy's fire increased in intensity. Very possibly he had been remarked.

And now the shells, which hitherto had simply been coming from the front, began raining on the left flank as well. The fire of the batteries at Frénois, and of another battery established on the peninsula of Iges, was crossing that from the Hattoy hill. And the projectiles fairly swept the plateau of Algeria. The men, occupied in watching what was going on in front, now had this flank fire to alarm them, and, exposed to two dangers, were at a loss how to escape from either. In rapid succession three men were killed, whilst two who were wounded shrieked aloud.

And it was now that Sergeant Sapin met the death he expected. He had turned round, and, when it was too late to avoid the shell, he saw it coming. 'Ah! there it is,' he simply said. There was a look, not of terror, but of profound sadness on his little pale face, in his large handsome eyes. His belly was ripped open, and he began to moan: 'Oh! don't leave me here! take me to the ambulance I beg of you—take me away.'

Rochas wished to silence him, and in his brutal fashion was about to tell him that when a man was mortally wounded he had no business to put a couple of comrades to unnecessary trouble. Suddenly, however, the grim lieutenant was stirred by pity, and exclaimed: 'Wait a moment, my poor fellow, till the bearers come for you.'

But the wretched man continued moaning, and began to weep, distracted that the longed-for happiness should be fleeing away with the flow of his blood. 'Take me away,' he begged, 'take me away.'