Two infantry divisions, supported by four field-batteries, were preparing to attack us in our weakest place; while far away on the right a column of infantry and a division of cavalry were marching by a wide circuit towards the town.
As for us, every man except the reserve had been fighting for hours against overwhelming odds, and there was not one to be spared from his place.
With a heavy heart I told Torot what was happening, and glanced disconsolately at his small body of troops.
"The Muscovites will swallow us up," said he cheerfully. "However, there's the order; so off we go."
I placed myself with the cavalry, and we moved out in good order from the shelter of the hills.
In the centre our guns maintained an equal conflict, but our right was terribly weakened, and incapable of resisting this fresh attack.
The poor fellows so sadly harassed greeted us with loud cheers, though really we could do little more than swell the number of dead and wounded.
I do not know who led the cavalry charge, but he was a gallant fellow and deserved a better fate.
The nearest battery was our goal, and few of us that survived will ever forget that terrible ride.
It was almost the last blow we were to strike in defence of our flag, though we did not know it then.