Jean was suddenly brought to the ground.
“I am done for,” he murmured.
He had received what seemed to him like a smart blow of a hammer on the crown of his head, and his kepi lay behind him with a great furrow plowed through its top. At first he thought that the bullet had certainly penetrated the skull and laid bare the brain; his dread of finding a yawning orifice there was so great that for some seconds he dared not raise his hand to ascertain the truth. When finally he ventured, his fingers, on withdrawing them, were red with an abundant flow of blood, and the pain was so intense that he fainted.
Just then Rochas gave the order to fall back. The Prussians had crept up on them and were only two or three hundred yards away; they were in danger of being captured.
“Be cool, don’t hurry; face about and give ’em another shot. Rally behind that low wall that you see down there.”
Maurice was in despair; he knew not what to do.
“We are not going to leave our corporal behind, are we, lieutenant?”
“What are we to do? he has turned up his toes.”
“No, no! he is breathing still. Take him along!”
Rochas shrugged his shoulders as if to say they could not bother themselves for every man that dropped. A wounded man is esteemed of little value on the battlefield. Then Maurice addressed his supplications to Lapoulle and Pache.