'But you yourself are wounded, sir,' Maurice suddenly exclaimed. He had just noticed that the colonel's left boot was covered with blood. The heel had been carried away, and a piece of leather had penetrated into the flesh of the leg.
M. de Vineuil quietly leant over his saddle and looked for a moment at his foot, which must have felt both burning hot and terribly heavy. 'Yes, yes,' he muttered, 'I caught that just now. But it's nothing, it doesn't prevent me from keeping in the saddle.' And as he rode off to take his place again at the head of his regiment, he added: 'A man can always get on when he's in the saddle and can stay there.'
The two batteries of the reserve artillery were now at last coming up, to the intense relief of the anxious soldiers, to whom it seemed as though these guns were bringing salvation, a rampart and thunder that would speedily silence the cannon of the foe over yonder. It was, moreover, a superb sight, so correctly were the batteries run up in order of battle, each gun followed by its caisson, the drivers astride the near-horses, and holding the off-horses by the bridle; the gunners seated on the boxes; and the corporals and sergeants galloping alongside in their respective places. It might have been thought they were parading, anxious to preserve the regulation distances as they dashed at full speed over the stubble, with a dull rumbling like that of a storm.
Maurice, who was again lying in a furrow, raised himself up, enraptured, and said to Jean: 'There, that is Honoré's battery on the left. I recognise the men.'
With a back-hander, Jean threw him to the ground again. 'Lie flat, and keep still,' he said.
With their cheeks resting on the soil, however, they both continued watching the battery, feeling greatly interested in the manœuvres that were being executed, and with their hearts beating quickly at sight of the calm, active bravery of the artillerymen from whom they yet expected victory.
The battery had suddenly halted on a bare summit, on their left hand, and in a moment everything was ready; the gunners sprang from the boxes and unhooked the limbers, and the drivers, leaving the pieces in position, wheeled their horses and withdrew to a distance of some fifteen yards, where they remained motionless, facing the enemy. The six guns were already levelled, set wide apart, in three sections, commanded by lieutenants, and united under the orders of a captain whose slim, extremely tall figure rose up, unluckily for him, like some conspicuous landmark. And when he had rapidly made a calculation, he was heard to exclaim: 'Sight at 1,700 yards.'
The mark was to be a Prussian battery established behind some bushes on the left of Fleigneux, and whose terrible fire was rendering the plateau of Illy untenable.
'Do you see,' again began Maurice, who was quite unable to hold his tongue, 'Honoré's gun is in the central section. There he is, leaning forward with the gun-layer—little Louis—we drank a glass together at Vouziers, as you may remember. And that driver over there who sits so stiffly on his horse, a beautiful chestnut, is Louis' chum, Adolphe.'
The whole stream of men, horses and matériel, was disposed in a straight line about a hundred yards in depth. First was the gun with its six gunners and its quartermaster,[29] farther off the limber and its four horses and its pair of drivers; then the caisson with its six horses and its three drivers; further still the ammunition and forage waggons and the field smithy; whilst the spare caissons and spare men and horses, provided to fill up any gaps in the battery, waited at some distance on the right, so that they might not be unnecessarily exposed in the enfilade of the firing.