Close at hand, on the edge of the forest, our stacked muskets sparkled in the moonlight. In the distance on the left I could hear the "Qui vive,"[[1]] and on our front the "Wer da."[[2]] Nearer to us, our sentinels stood motionless, up to their waists in the standing grain.
[[1]] Who goes there!—French.
[[2]] Who goes there!—German.
I rose up softly and looked about me. In the vicinity of Sombref, two leagues to our right, I could hear a great tumult from time to time, which would increase and then cease entirely. It might have been little gusts of wind among the leaves, but there was not a breath of air and not a drop of dew fell, and I thought, "Those are the cannon and wagons of the Prussians, galloping over the Namur road; their battalions and squadrons, which are coming continually. What a position we shall be in to-morrow with that mass of men already before us, and re-enforcements arriving every moment."
They had extinguished their fires at St. Amand and at Ligny, but they burned brighter than ever at Sombref. The Prussians who had just arrived after forced marches were no doubt making their soup.
A thousand thoughts ran through my brain, and I said to myself from time to time, "You escaped from Lutzen and Leipzig and Hanau, why not escape this time also?"
But the hopes which I cherished did not prevent me from realizing that the battle would be a terrible one. I lay down, however, and slept soundly for half an hour, when the drum-major, Padoue himself, commenced to beat the reveille. He promenaded up and down the edge of the wood and turned off his rolls and double rolls with great satisfaction. The officers were standing in the grain on the hill-side in a group, looking toward Fleurus, and talking among themselves. Our reveille always commenced before that of the Austrians or Prussians or any of our enemies. It is like the song of the lark at dawn. They commence theirs on their big drums with a dismal roll which gives you the idea of a funeral. But, on the contrary, their buglers have pretty airs for sounding the reveille, while ours only give two or three blasts, as much as to say: "Come, let us be going! there is no time to lose." Everybody rose and the sun came up splendidly over the grain fields, and we could feel beforehand how hot it would be at noon.
Buche and all the detailed men set off with their canteens for water, while others were lighting handfuls of straw with tinder for their fires. There was no lack of wood, as each one took an armful from the piles that were already cut. Corporal Duhem and Sergeant Rabot and Zébédé came to have a talk with me. We were together in 1813, and they had been at my wedding, and in spite of the difference in our rank they had always continued their friendship for me.