general set it in motion at once, ordering it, in haphazard fashion, to proceed in the direction of Chagny. All this meant fighting.
'So it's serious, sir, this time?' Maurice ventured to ask Lieutenant Rochas.
'Oh, yes—— it!' replied the lieutenant waving his long arm; 'you'll see how hot it will be by-and-by.'
All the men were delighted. Since the line of battle had been formed from Chestres to Falaise the animation of the camp had become still greater, and feverish impatience was seizing hold of the men. At last, then, they were about to see those Prussians, whom the newspapers described as being worn out with marching and exhausted by disease, who were said to be famished and clad in rags; and the hope of overthrowing them at the first brush raised everybody's courage.
'So we've found one another at last, and a good job too,' said Jean. 'We've been playing at hide and seek quite long enough; ever since we lost each other near the frontier, after that battle. But are these the ones who beat MacMahon?'
Maurice hesitated, and was unable to answer. According to what he had read at Rheims, it seemed to him difficult that the third German army, commanded by the Crown Prince of Prussia, could be at Vouziers when a couple of days previously it appeared to have encamped in the vicinity of Vitry-le-François. There had certainly been some mention of a fourth army, under the orders of the Crown Prince of Saxony, which was to operate on the Meuse; and probably it was this one that they were about to encounter, though the rapidity of the occupation of Grand-Pré astonished him, as the Meuse was so far away. Maurice's ideas became altogether confused, however, when, to his stupefaction, he heard General Bourgain-Desfeuilles asking a peasant of Falaise whether the Meuse did not pass by Buzancy, and whether there were not some strong bridges there. Moreover, in his serene ignorance, the general asserted that they were about to be attacked by a column of one hundred thousand men coming from Grand-Pré, whilst another of sixty thousand was advancing by way of Ste. Menehould.
'And your foot?' asked Jean, addressing Maurice.
'I no longer feel it,' the latter replied, with a laugh. 'If we fight, I shall be all right.'
This was true; such intense nervous excitement buoyed him up that he no longer seemed to tread the ground. To think that he had not burnt a cartridge since the campaign began! He had marched to the frontier, he had spent that terrible night of anguish before Mulhausen, without seeing a Prussian, without firing a shot; and then he had been obliged to retreat, first to Belfort, and then to Rheims; and now for five days past he had again been marching to meet the enemy, and his chassepot was still immaculate, unused. He experienced an increasing need, a slowly gathering longing to level his gun and fire at anyone or anything, in order to ease his nerves. During the six weeks or so that had elapsed since he had enlisted in a spasm of enthusiasm, imagining that he would fight the very next day, he had only employed his poor delicate feet in running away and tramping along, afar from any field of battle. Thus it happened that amid the feverish expectancy of the entire corps, he was one of those who consulted with the most impatience that Grand-Pré road, which stretched far away into the distance in a straight line between two rows of lovely trees. The valley where the Aisne coursed like a silver ribbon among the poplars and the willows, was spread out below him; but his eyes returned perforce to the road lying yonder.
There was an alert at about four o'clock. The 4th Hussars came back after a long round, and stories of some encounters they had had with Uhlans, repeated with increasing exaggeration by all who heard them, began to circulate; confirming everyone in the impression that an attack was imminent. A couple of hours later a fresh estafette arrived with a scared look, and explained that General Bordas no longer dared to leave Grand-Pré, as he was convinced that the road to Vouziers was cut. This was not yet the case, since the estafette had been able to pass without hindrance; still it might occur at any moment, and accordingly General Dumont, the commander of the division, set out with his remaining brigade to extricate the other. The sun was now setting behind Vouziers, whose roofs stood out blackly against a large red cloud. For a long time the men in camp were able to see the brigade as it marched along between the rows of trees, but at last it faded from sight in the growing darkness.
When Colonel de Vineuil came to make sure that his men were in good positions for the night, he was astonished not to find Captain Beaudoin at his post. The captain arrived, however, from Vouziers at that very moment, and when by way of excusing himself he explained that he had been lunching at Baroness de Ladicourt's, in the town, he received a severe reprimand, which, it must be admitted, he listened to in silence, in the irreproachable attitude of a smart officer.
'My lads,' the colonel repeated, as he passed among his men, 'we shall no doubt be attacked to-night or certainly to-morrow morning at daybreak. Mind you are ready, and remember that the 106th has never retreated.'
They all acclaimed him; and indeed, in the weariness and discouragement that had been growing upon them since their departure from Rheims they all longed to finish matters with a tussle. The chassepots were examined and the needles changed; and then, as they had eaten their soupe in the morning, the men contented themselves, that night, with some coffee and biscuit. They received orders not to turn in; and picket guards were stationed at some sixteen hundred yards from the camp, whilst sentinels were placed as far away as the banks of the Aisne. The officers sat up watching around the camp fires; by the leaping glow of one of which, near a low wall, it was possible to distinguish every now and then the embroidery on the garish uniforms worn by the commander-in-chief and his staff, together with shadows that moved rapidly and anxiously, hastening at times towards the road to listen there for the sound of horses' hoofs—so intense was the disquietude concerning the fate of the Third Division.
At about one in the morning Maurice was stationed as sentry at the edge of a field of plum trees, between the road and the river. The night was as black as ink, and as soon as he found himself alone in the overwhelming silence of the sleeping country he felt a sensation of fear take possession of him, a terrible fear which he had never before experienced, and which he was unable to conquer, despite a tremor of anger and shame. He turned round in the hope that the sight of the camp fires would tranquillise him, but they were hidden by a little wood, and only a sea of darkness stretched behind him, save that at a great distance away a few solitary lights shone out from the houses of Vouziers, whose inhabitants, warned, no doubt, of the state of affairs, and shuddering at the idea of the approaching battle, had not retired to rest. What completed Maurice's fright was that on levelling his chassepot he found that he could not even distinguish its sight. Then began a cruel spell of waiting, with all the faculties of his being centred in the sense of hearing—his ears open to almost imperceptible sounds, and filling at last with a thunderous uproar. The trickling of some distant water, the light stir of some leaves, the spring of an insect—all acquired a deafening sonority. Was not that the gallop of horses, the continuous rumble of artillery coming straight towards him from over yonder? What was that sound he heard on the left—was it not a cautious whisper, the stifled voices of some advanced guard creeping forward in the darkness and preparing a surprise? On three occasions he was on the point of firing to give the alarm. The fear of being mistaken, of appearing ridiculous, increased his discomfort. He had knelt down, resting his left shoulder against a tree, and it seemed as if he had been there for hours, as if he had been forgotten and the army had gone away without him. Then suddenly he no longer felt frightened, but clearly distinguished the rhythmical tread of infantry marching along the road, which he knew to be some two hundred yards away. He immediately felt convinced that this was General Dumont, bringing back Bordas's brigade, the troops who had remained in distress at Grand-Pré, and whose return was so anxiously awaited. Just then he was relieved, his sentry duty having barely lasted the regulation hour.
It was, indeed, the Third Division returning to the camp, and the relief was immense. But at the same time more minute precautions were taken, for the information brought back by the returning generals confirmed all that the commander thought he knew respecting the enemy's approach. A few prisoners had been brought
