Thereupon he set out, and they one and all followed him, feeling that he had talked to them like a father whom they could not abandon without showing themselves to be arrant cowards. And he quietly rode across the bare fields on his big charger, whilst his men scattered and spread themselves out like skirmishers, taking advantage of the slightest cover. The ground rose, and more than five hundred yards of stubble and beetroot fields had to be crossed before reaching the Calvary. Instead of the correct lines of the classical assault, such as is witnessed in sham-fighting, all that could be seen in a minute or two was the backs of the men as they bent double and glided along close to the ground, now singly, and now in little groups, now crawling on their knees, and now suddenly springing forward like insects, making their way to the summit, by dint of agility and cunning. The hostile batteries must have perceived them, for the soil was ploughed up by the shells which fell so frequently that there was no pause in the detonations. On the way five of the men were killed, and a lieutenant was cut clean in half.
Maurice and Jean were lucky enough to come upon a hedge, behind which they were able to run on without being seen. A bullet, however, here penetrated the temple of one of their comrades, who, in falling, almost tripped them up. They had to push him aside with their feet. They no longer paid any attention to the dead; there were too many of them. The horrors of the battlefield—a wounded man whom they perceived howling and holding in his entrails with both hands, a horse, which was still dragging itself along although its haunches were broken—all the frightful agonies displayed to view had ended by no longer affecting them. Their only sufferings were occasioned by the oppressive heat of the midday sun which was biting into their shoulders.
'How thirsty I am!' stammered Maurice; 'it seems as if my throat were full of soot. Can't you smell that horrible stench of burning wool?'
Jean nodded: 'It was the same at Solferino. Perhaps it's the smell of war. Wait a bit; I've still some brandy left, we'll drink a drop together.'
They quietly halted for a minute behind the hedge, but the brandy burnt their stomachs, instead of quenching their thirst. That burning taste in their mouths was quite exasperating. And, besides, they felt famished, and would willingly have devoured the half-loaf which Maurice still had in his knapsack. But was there any possibility of getting at it? Other men were each moment coming up behind them, and pushing them onward. At last, they too bounded over the last slope and found themselves upon the plateau, at the very foot of the Calvary, the old stone cross reared between two meagre lime-trees, and eaten away here and there by the wind and the rain.
'Ah, dash it! here we are at last!' Jean exclaimed; 'but the thing is to stop here.'
He was right. As Lapoulle, in a plaintive voice, remarked to the amusement of his comrades, the spot was hardly a pleasant one. And now, once again, they all stretched themselves among some stubble. Nevertheless three more men were speedily killed. A perfect hurricane was raging up there; the projectiles came from St. Menges, Fleigneux, and Givonne, in such numbers that vapour seemed to issue from the soil, as happens during a heavy storm of rain. Evidently enough, the position could not be long retained unless artillery promptly arrived to support the men who had been so daringly sent to the front. General Douay, it was said, had given orders to run up a couple of batteries of the reserve artillery; and the men looked round anxiously every moment, waiting for these guns which did not arrive.
'It's ridiculous, ridiculous!' repeated Captain Beaudoin, who had again resumed his jerky promenade. 'A regiment ought not to be sent to an exposed position like this without being at once supported.' Then, noticing a dip in the ground on his left, he called out to Rochas: 'I say, lieutenant, the company might lie down there.'
Rochas, erect and motionless, shrugged his shoulders: 'Oh! captain, here or there, it's all the same. The best is not to stir.'