“But you, Colonel,” Maurice suddenly exclaimed, “you are wounded too!”

He had perceived blood dripping from the colonel’s left boot.  A projectile of some description had carried away the heel of the foot-covering and forced the steel shank into the flesh.

M. de Vineuil bent over his saddle and glanced unconcernedly at the member, in which the sensation at that time must have been far from pleasurable.

“Yes, yes,” he replied, “it is a little remembrance that I received a while ago.  A mere scratch, that don’t prevent me from sitting my horse—­” And he added, as he turned to resume his position to the rear of his regiment:  “As long as a man can stick on his horse he’s all right.”

At last the two batteries of reserve artillery came up.  Their arrival was an immense relief to the anxiously expectant men, as if the guns were to be a rampart of protection to them and at the same time demolish the hostile batteries that were thundering against them from every side.  And then, too, it was in itself an exhilarating spectacle to see the magnificent order they preserved as they came dashing up, each gun followed by its caisson, the drivers seated on the near horse and holding the off horse by the bridle, the cannoneers bolt upright on the chests, the chiefs of detachment riding in their proper position on the flank.  Distances were preserved as accurately as if they were on parade, and all the time they were tearing across the fields at headlong speed, with the roar and crash of a hurricane.

Maurice, who had lain down again, arose and said to Jean in great excitement: 

“Look! over there on the left, that is Honore’s battery.  I can recognize the men.”

Jean gave him a back-handed blow that brought him down to his recumbent position.

“Lie down, will you! and make believe dead!”

But they were both deeply interested in watching the maneuvers of the battery, and never once removed their eyes from it; it cheered their heart to witness the cool and intrepid activity of those men, who, they hoped, might yet bring victory to them.

The battery had wheeled into position on a bare summit to the left, where it brought up all standing; then, quick as a flash, the cannoneers leaped from the chests and unhooked the limbers, and the drivers, leaving the gun in position, drove fifteen yards to the rear, where they wheeled again so as to bring team and limber face to the enemy and there remained, motionless as statues.  In less time than it takes to tell it the guns were in place, with the proper intervals between them, distributed into three sections of two guns each, each section commanded by a lieutenant, and over the whole a captain, a long maypole of a man, who made a terribly conspicuous landmark on the plateau.  And this captain, having first made a brief calculation, was heard to shout: 

“Sight for sixteen hundred yards!”

Their fire was to be directed upon a Prussian battery, screened by some bushes, to the left of Fleigneux, the shells from which were rendering the position of the Calvary untenable.