And he repeated his previous gesture, as if to say it was too late.

His words were partly inaudible in the roar of the artillery, but Maurice caught their significance clearly enough, and it left him dumfounded by astonishment and alarm.  What!  Marshal MacMahon wounded since early that morning, General Ducrot commanding in his place for the last two hours, the entire army retreating to the northward of Sedan—­and all these important events kept from the poor devils of soldiers who were squandering their life’s blood! and all their destinies, dependent on the life of a single man, were to be intrusted to the direction of fresh and untried hands!  He had a distinct consciousness of the fate that was in reserve for the army of Chalons, deprived of its commander, destitute of any guiding principle of action, dragged purposelessly in this direction and in that, while the Germans went straight and swift to their preconcerted end with mechanical precision and directness.

Bourgain-Desfeuilles had wheeled his horse and was moving away, when General Douay, to whom a grimy, dust-stained hussar had galloped up with another dispatch, excitedly summoned him back.

“General!  General!”

His voice rang out so loud and clear, with such an accent of surprise, that it drowned the uproar of the guns.

“General, Ducrot is no longer in command; de Wimpffen is chief.  You know he reached here yesterday, just in the very thick of the disaster at Beaumont, to relieve de Failly at the head of the 5th corps—­and he writes me that he has written instructions from the Minister of War assigning him to the command of the army in case the post should become vacant.  And there is to be no more retreating; the orders now are to reoccupy our old positions, and defend them to the last.”

General Bourgain-Desfeuilles drank in the tidings, his eyes bulging with astonishment. “Nom de Dieu!” he at last succeeded in ejaculating, “one would like to know—­ But it is no business of mine, anyhow.”  And off he galloped, not allowing himself to be greatly agitated by this unexpected turn of affairs, for he had gone into the war solely in the hope of seeing his name raised a grade higher in the army list, and it was his great desire to behold the end of the beastly campaign as soon as possible, since it was productive of so little satisfaction to anyone.

Then there was an explosion of derision and contempt among the men of Beaudoin’s company.  Maurice said nothing, but he shared the opinion of Chouteau and Loubet, who chaffed and blackguarded everyone without mercy.  “See-saw, up and down, move as I pull the string!  A fine gang they were, those generals! they understood one another; they were not going to pull all the blankets off the bed!  What was a poor devil of a soldier to do when he had such leaders put over him?  Three commanders in two hours’ time, three great numskulls, none of whom knew what was the right thing to do, and all of them giving different orders!  Demoralized, were they?  Good Heavens, it was enough to demoralize God Almighty himself, and all His angels!” And the inevitable accusation of treason was again made to do duty; Ducrot and de Wimpffen wanted to get three millions apiece out of Bismarck, as MacMahon had done.