And still the tremendous artillery duel raged, and the death-dealing missiles went screaming over the recumbent ranks of the regiments that lay there on the sullen, sweltering plain, where no thing of life was to be seen beneath the blazing sun.  The crashing thunder, the destroying hurricane, were masters in that solitude, and many long hours would pass before the end.  But even thus early in the day the Germans had demonstrated the superiority of their artillery; their percussion shells had an enormous range, and exploded, with hardly an exception, on reaching their destination, while the French time-fuse shells, with a much shorter range, burst for the most part in the air and were wasted.  And there was nothing left for the poor fellows exposed to that murderous fire save to hug the ground and make themselves as small as possible; they were even denied the privilege of firing in reply, which would have kept their mind occupied and given them a measure of relief; but upon whom or what were they to direct their rifles? since there was not a living soul to be seen upon the entire horizon!

“Are we never to have a shot at them?  I would give a dollar for just one chance!” said Maurice, in a frenzy of impatience.  “It is disgusting to have them blazing away at us like this and not be allowed to answer.”

“Be patient; the time will come,” Jean imperturbably replied.

Their attention was attracted by the sound of mounted men approaching on their left, and turning their heads they beheld General Douay, who, accompanied by his staff, had come galloping up to see how his troops were behaving under the terrible fire from Hattoy.  He appeared well pleased with what he saw and was in the act of making some suggestions to the officers grouped around him, when, emerging from a sunken road, General Bourgain-Desfeuilles also rode up.  This officer, though he owed his advancement to “influence” was wedded to the antiquated African routine and had learned nothing by experience, sat his horse with great composure under the storm of projectiles.  He was shouting to the men and gesticulating wildly, after the manner of Rochas:  “They are coming, they will be here right away, and then we’ll let them have the bayonet!” when he caught sight of General Douay and drew up to his side.

“Is it true that the marshal is wounded, general?” he asked.

“It is but too true, unfortunately.  I received a note from Ducrot only a few minutes ago, in which he advises me of the fact, and also notifies me that, by the marshal’s appointment, he is in command of the army.”

“Ah! so it is Ducrot who is to have his place!  And what are the orders now?”

The general shook his head sorrowfully.  He had felt that the army was doomed, and for the last twenty-four hours had been strenuously recommending the occupation of Illy and Saint-Menges in order to keep a way of retreat open on Mezieres.

“Ducrot will carry out the plan we talked of yesterday:  the whole army is to be concentrated on the plateau of Illy.”