“What’s the matter?” said he to the cantinière.
“Nothing at all. The matter is that we’re done for, my boy; that the Prussian cavalry is cutting us down—that’s all. The fool of a general took it for our own at first. Now then, look sharp! Help me to mend the trace; Cocotte has broken it!”
Several musket shots rang out ten paces off. Our hero, now thoroughly rested, said to himself: “But really, all this whole day through I have never fought at all! All I have done was to ride escort to a general. I must go and fight,” said he to the woman.
“Make your mind easy; you’ll fight more than you want. We’re all done for!”
“Aubry, my boy,” she shouted to a corporal who was passing by, “give an eye to the little cart now and then.”
“Are you going to fight?” said Fabrizio to Aubry.
“No; I’m going to put on my pumps and go to the ball.”
“I’m after you.”
“Look after the little hussar,” shouted the cantinière; “he’s a plucky young chap.”
Corporal Aubry marched on without saying a word; eight or ten soldiers ran up and joined him. He led them up behind a big oak with brambles growing all round it. Once there, he stationed them, still without opening his lips, in a very open line, along the edge of the wood, each man at least ten paces from his neighbour.