It was not midday yet, and since nine o’clock the master had been watching the movements, inexorable as fate, of his armies.  Onward, ever onward, they swept, by roads traced for them in advance, completing the circle, slowly but surely closing in and enveloping Sedan in their living wall of men and guns.  The army on his left, that had come up across the level plain of Donchery, was debouching still from the pass of Saint-Albert and, leaving Saint-Menges in its rear, was beginning to show its heads of columns at Fleigneux; and, in the rear of the XIth corps, then sharply engaged with General Douay’s force, he could discern the Vth corps, availing itself of the shelter of the woods and advancing stealthily on Illy, while battery upon battery came wheeling into position, an ever-lengthening line of thundering guns, until the horizon was an unbroken ring of fire.  On the right the army was now in undisputed possession of the valley of the Givonne; the XIIth corps had taken la Moncelle, the Guards had forced the passage of the stream at Daigny, compelling General Ducrot to seek the protection of the wood of la Garenne, and were pushing up the right bank, likewise in full march upon the plateau of Illy.  Their task was almost done; one effort more, and up there at the north, among those barren fields, on the very verge of the dark forests of the Ardennes, the Crown Prince of Prussia would join hands with the Crown Prince of Saxony.  To the south of Sedan the village of Bazeilles was lost to sight in the dense smoke of its burning houses, in the clouds of dun vapor that rose above the furious conflict.

And tranquilly, ever since the morning, the King had been watching and waiting.  An hour yet, two hours, it might be three, it mattered not; it was only a question of time.  Wheel and pinion, cog and lever, were working in harmony, the great engine of destruction was in motion, and soon would have run its course.  In the center of the immense horizon, beneath the deep vault of sunlit sky, the bounds of the battlefield were ever becoming narrower, the black swarms were converging, closing in on doomed Sedan.  There were fiery reflexions in the windows of the city; to the left, in the direction of the Faubourg de la Cassine, it seemed as if a house was burning.  And outside the circle of flame and smoke, in the fields no longer trodden by armed men, over by Donchery, over by Carignan, peace, warm and luminous, lay upon the land; the bright waters of the Meuse, the lusty trees rejoicing in their strength, the broad, verdant meadows, the fertile, well-kept farms, all rested peacefully beneath the fervid noonday sun.

Turning to his staff, the King briefly called for information upon some point.  It was the royal will to direct each move on the gigantic chessboard; to hold in the hollow of his hand the hosts who looked to him for guidance.  At his left, a flock of swallows, affrighted by the noise of the cannonade, rose high in air, wheeled, and vanished in the south.