“The woods of Dieulet—­where’s that?”

“Between Stenay and Mouzon, General.”

“What do I know of your Stenay and Mouzon?  Do you expect me to be familiar with all these strange names?”

The colonel was distressed by his chief’s display of ignorance; he hastily interfered to remind him that Stenay and Mouzon were on the Meuse, and that, as the Germans had occupied the former of those towns, the army was about to attempt the passage of the river at the other, which was situated more to the northward.

“So you see, General,” Sambuc continued, “we’ve come to tell you that the woods of Dieulet are alive with Prussians.  There was an engagement yesterday as the 5th corps was leaving Bois-les-Dames, somewhere about Nonart—­”

“What, yesterday?  There was fighting yesterday?”

“Yes, General, the 5th corps was engaged as it was falling back; it must have been at Beaumont last night.  So, while some of us hurried off to report to it the movements of the enemy, we thought it best to come and let you know how matters stood, so that you might go to its assistance, for it will certainly have sixty thousand men to deal with in the morning.”

General Bourgain-Desfeuilles gave a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders.

“Sixty thousand men!  Why the devil don’t you call it a hundred thousand at once?  You were dreaming, young man; your fright has made you see double.  It is impossible there should be sixty thousand Germans so near us without our knowing it.”

And so he went on.  It was to no purpose that Sambuc appealed to Ducat and Cabasse to confirm his statement.

“We saw the guns,” the Provencal declared; “and those chaps must be crazy to take them through the forest, where the rains of the past few days have left the roads in such a state that they sink in the mud up to the hubs.”

“They have someone to guide them, for certain,” said the ex-bailiff.

Since leaving Vouziers the general had stoutly refused to attach any further credit to reports of the junction of the two German armies which, as he said, they had been trying to stuff down his throat.  He did not even consider it worth his while to send the francs-tireurs before his corps commander, to whom the partisans supposed, all along, that they were talking; if they should attempt to listen to all the yarns that were brought them by tramps and peasants, they would have their hands full and be driven from pillar to post without ever advancing a step.  He directed the three men to remain with the column, however, since they were acquainted with the country.

“They are good fellows, all the same,” Jean said to Maurice, as they were returning to fold the tent, “to have tramped three leagues across lots to let us know.”

The young man agreed with him and commended their action, knowing as he did the country, and deeply alarmed to hear that the Prussians were in Dieulet forest and moving on Sommanthe and Beaumont.  He had flung himself down by the roadside, exhausted before the march had commenced, with a sorrowing heart and an empty stomach, at the dawning of that day which he felt was to be so disastrous for them all.  Distressed to see him looking so pale, the corporal affectionately asked him: