a distant waterfall, the rustling of a leaf, the movement of an insect in the grass, were like the booming of artillery.  Was that the tramp of cavalry, the deep rumbling of gun-carriages driven at speed, that he heard down there to the right?  And there on his left, what was that? was it not the sound of stealthy whispers, stifled voices, a party creeping up to surprise him under cover of the darkness?  Three times he was on the point of giving the alarm by firing his piece.  The fear that he might be mistaken and incur the ridicule of his comrades served to intensify his distress.  He had kneeled upon the ground, supporting his left shoulder against a tree; it seemed to him that he had been occupying that position for hours, that they had forgotten him there, that the army had moved away without him.  Then suddenly, at once, his fear left him; upon the road, that he knew was not two hundred yards away, he distinctly heard the cadenced tramp of marching men.  Immediately it flashed across his mind as a certainty that they were the troops from Grand-Pre, whose coming had been awaited with such anxiety—­General Dumont bringing in Bordas’ brigade.  At that same moment the corporal of the guard came along with the relief; he had been on post a little less than the customary hour.

He had been right; it was the 3d division returning to camp.  Everyone felt a sensation of deep relief.  Increased precautions were taken, nevertheless, for what fresh intelligence they received tended to confirm what they supposed they already knew of the enemy’s approach.  A few uhlans, forbidding looking fellows in their long black cloaks, were brought in as prisoners, but they were uncommunicative, and so daylight came at last, the pale, ghastly light of a rainy morning, bringing with it no alleviation of their terrible suspense.  No one had dared to close an eye during that long night.  About seven o’clock Lieutenant Rochas affirmed that MacMahon was coming up with the whole army.  The truth of the matter was that General Douay, in reply to his dispatch of the preceding day announcing that a battle at Vouziers was inevitable, had received a letter from the marshal enjoining him to hold the position until re-enforcements could reach him; the forward movement had been arrested; the 1st corps was being directed on Terron, the 5th on Buzancy, while the 12th was to remain at Chene and constitute our second line.  Then the suspense became more breathless still; it was to be no mere skirmish that the peaceful valley of the Aisne was to witness that day, but a great battle, in which would participate the entire army, that was even now turning its back upon the Meuse and marching southward; and there was no making of soup, the men had to content themselves with coffee and hard-tack, for everyone was saying, without troubling himself to ask why, that the “wipe of the dish-clout” was set down for midday.  An aide-de-camp had been dispatched to the marshal to urge him to hurry forward their supports, as intelligence