Gloomily determined, I enjoyed my fatal power. Did I spare myself? No. I remained on my feet, and the bullets made a nimbus round me. Preserved by a constant miracle, I moved among these fiery trajectories like a salamander.
And then, ruminating on a vague hope of living, I dreamt that a fate protected me; that death was overawed by my temerity.
The hour struck in the depths of my consciousness.
I included all my men, body and soul, in a comprehensive gesture to advance.
Their undulating line moved as one man. Bouillon was just behind me. In getting up he seemed to stumble, and fell like a stone, with a bullet in his forehead.
Then I began to run quickly, straight ahead. There was no longer any need to turn round. Behind me I could hear that breathing, and the heavy trot regulated by mine. We formed an inseparable block, they and I. If any fell, their places were filled up. Twenty yards away I saw phantoms scattering.
"They're bolting!"
My own voice seemed to swell in the deep-throated roars which it tore from my companions. Living, rolling thunder! The enemy overcome and swept away! Full of a prodigious reserve of breath, life, and pride I was going to—
A-a-h!