A Girl of the Commune

by G. A. Henty

The night passed off quietly. The next day, to the surprise of everyone, things remained unchanged. No effort was made to pass the baggage-train over the bridges. A portion of the troops had been put under canvas the first evening, and save for the dead still lying about, the broken arms, the stains of blood, and the parties engaged in carrying the wounded across the river to the ambulance wagons, and others burying the dead, the scene differed little from an ordinary encampment. The troops laughed and jested round the camp-fires, and occupied themselves with their cooking; the horses that had been killed were already but skeletons, the flesh having been cut off for food. The advance parties had been called in, and a barricade thrown up just beyond Champigny, where the advance guard occasionally exchanged shots with the Prussians a few hundred yards away. Strong parties were at work erecting a series of earthworks on the hill.

The Franc-tireurs fell back from the position they had held the night before, and established themselves in a few houses, half roofless and shattered by shell, between Champigny and the river. Most of the houses in the long straggling street of Champigny bore marks of the conflict that had raged there before the Saxons had been driven out. Fortunately large stores of straw were found in the village, and these added much to the comfort of the troops, and the Franc-tireurs carried off a good many trusses to their quarters. Considerable amounts of other stores were also discovered there, and were thoroughly appreciated by the soldiers after their restricted rations.

They smoked their pipes that evening feeling thankful that as they lay behind Champigny there was no occasion for them to turn out on outpost duty.

"They say we shall fight again to-morrow for certain," René said.

"I think it likely we shall, René, but I should be inclined to bet ten to one, that it is the Prussians who will attack. They will have had forty-eight hours to mass their forces here, and will be fools if they don't take advantage of the opportunity we have been good enough to give them."

Day was just breaking when a sharp rattle of musketry broke out. The Franc-tireurs sprang to their feet.

"I should have won my bet, René, if you had taken it," Cuthbert exclaimed, as he slung his cartridge-box over his shoulder. "They are on us all along the line."

In less than a minute the rattle of musketry swelled into a continuous roar, above which came the boom of cannon and the explosion of shells in and around Champigny. Just as the corps was formed up, the heavy guns in the battery of St. Maur behind them opened fire, their deep roar sounding loud above the sharp explosion of the Prussian field-guns. As they advanced at the double towards the village, they could see a mob of panic-stricken men rushing from the front.

"The cowards, the vile cowards!" broke from the lips of the men, and as some of the fugitives ran past them, they saluted them with yells and cries of contempt. Fully five thousand panic-stricken men were in wild flight, all rushing towards the bridge.

"If I were the commander of St. Maur," René said, "I would turn my guns upon these cowards. They are greater enemies to France than are the Prussians."