Dr. Dumany's Wife

by Mór Jókai

"Sir, we must get out of this with our beds at once. Cavalry is advancing."

"Cavalry of the enemy?" I asked.

"Brother and enemy is all one in such a case. If we are in their way they will crush us under their horses' hoofs, without observing what body we belong to."

So we hastily picked up our beds with the wounded, and retreated with all speed behind the line of battle. We had hardly reached security when, from both sides, the cavalry advanced, both friends and enemies. The earth shook with the stamping of the hoofs, "Quadrupedante putrem crepitu quatit ungula campum."

Avoiding our right wing, a regiment of Prussian hussars was galloping towards us; a regiment of French chasseurs on horseback, under command of the commander-in-chief, Marshal Douay, in person, was dashing from the hills to meet them. The strong west wind was blowing clouds of dust in the faces of the French, the backs of the Germans. All at once the Prussian regiment divided itself, wheeling to right and left; behind them a whole battery of artillery appeared, and a powerful discharge saluted the chasseurs.

The shells made a fearful gap in the French horsemen, but still they dashed bravely on, shouting wildly, and giving the enemy's artillery no time for a second shot. The Prussians wheeled swiftly, and hussars, battery and all, fled before the lines of the French chasseurs. We thought this wild retreat meant victory for the French, but we discovered that it was only a ruse.

When the clouds of dust had dispersed, we saw that on the battle-field horses, struggling in deadly convulsions, and men in the throes of death, were strewn thickly around. We hastened thither to save whom we could, but, oh! what an awful sight it was! Man and beast piled in confusion and crushing each other. The neighing of the wounded horse mingled with the last prayer, or the death-groan, of its rider. Maddened horses, with their dead or wounded riders hanging in the saddle, were galloping on, while the less-injured soldiers, who had been thrown from their slain horses, or were struggling to extricate themselves from beneath them, were cursing and swearing, and invoking God and Devil for vengeance on the Prussians.

Among those who were fatally injured was Marshal Douay himself. As the old sergeant drew him out from under his horse, the blood rushed from an awful gash on his neck. "O, mon général!" sobbed the old soldier, trying to close the gash with his pocket-handkerchief.

"Don't cry!" said the dying chief, hoarsely. "Go shout to them 'En avant!' in my place."

It was a fatal command, this "En avant!" The French chasseurs had pursued the German hussars to a hop plantation, which proved to be full of concealed Prussian sharp-shooters. At this point the hussars attacked the chasseurs in the rear, while the sharp-shooters received them with a volley from their quick-firing rifles, and a general onslaught was begun upon the brave corps. The chasseurs endeavoured to break into the hop field, but such a plantation is a terrible fortification, with its walls of vines fastened to other walls of stout poles, and behind each a hidden foe with a quick-slaying weapon. The whole fine corps of cavalry was destroyed then and there.