“Now, young fellow, look out for yourself!” Jean said to Maurice; “we’re in for it.  Don’t let ’em see so much as the end of your nose, for if you do they will surely snip it off, and keep a sharp lookout for your legs and arms unless you have more than you care to keep.  Those who come out of this with a whole skin will be lucky.”

Maurice did not hear him very distinctly; the words were lost in the all-pervading clamor that buzzed and hummed in the young man’s ears.  He could not have told now whether he was afraid or not; he went forward because the others did, borne along with them in their headlong rush, without distinct volition of his own; his sole desire was to have the affair ended as soon as possible.  So true was it that he was a mere drop in the on-pouring torrent that when the leading files came to the end of the trench and began to waver at the prospect of climbing the exposed slope that lay before them, he immediately felt himself seized by a sensation of panic, and was ready to turn and fly.  It was simply an uncontrollable instinct, a revolt of the muscles, obedient to every passing breath.

Some of the men had already faced about when the colonel came hurrying up.

“Steady there, my children.  You won’t cause me this great sorrow; you won’t behave like cowards.  Remember, the 106th has never turned its back upon the enemy; will you be the first to disgrace our flag?”

And he spurred his charger across the path of the fugitives, addressing them individually, speaking to them, of their country, in a voice that trembled with emotion.

Lieutenant Rochas was so moved by his words that he gave way to an ungovernable fit of anger, raising his sword and belaboring the men with the flat as if it had been a club.

“You dirty loafers, I’ll see whether you will go up there or not!  I’ll kick you up!  About face! and I’ll break the jaw of the first man that refuses to obey!”

But such an extreme measure as kicking a regiment into action was repugnant to the colonel.

“No, no, lieutenant; they will follow me.  Won’t you, my children?  You won’t let your old colonel fight it out alone with the Prussians!  Up there lies the way; forward!”

He turned his horse and left the trench, and they did all follow, to a man, for he would have been considered the lowest of the low who could have abandoned their leader after that brave, kind speech.  He was the only one, however, who, while crossing the open fields, erect on his tall horse, was cool and unconcerned; the men scattered, advancing in open order and availing themselves of every shelter afforded by the ground.  The land sloped upward; there were fully five hundred yards of stubble and beet fields between them and the Calvary, and in place of the correctly aligned columns that the spectator sees advancing when a charge is ordered in field maneuvers, all that was to be seen was a loose array of men with rounded backs, singly