I remained on this wall-top idly gazing until my vision began to become blurred, and I could no longer see.  Then something made me close my eyes for a second to regain command over them again; and when I opened them and looked again through that powerful Leiss, my jaw dropped.  This time, with a vengeance, it was something new.  Dense bodies of men in white tunics and dark trousers were debouching into the street, thousands of yards away, and were then marching due east—­that is, towards the Palace.  They came on and on, until it seemed they would never cease.  What were these newcomers?  Were they white troops at last—­were they Bannermen of the white Banners?...

They might be anything—­anything in the world—­but they might be....

Yes, without a doubt they might be ordinary Russian infantry of the line.  Russian infantry of the line!  It was imperative to learn.

I clambered off the wall and decided at once on a grim test.  All of us pushed up our flaps to the extreme range and gave four sharp volleys—­the eight rifles crashing off jarringly together.  As we were preparing to give them the last cartridge on the clips, the white specks we could just see with the naked eye stopped and flickered away.  Then as we waited there was a moment’s silence; a little vapour spurted up far away, and bang! a shell whizzed, and burst two hundred yards to our rear.  That was an immense surprise!  But now we had no doubts; these were European troops; the relief must have come; it was all over, we must communicate the news....

Before our ideas had grouped themselves coherently, we found ourselves bolting home—­bolting like madmen.  We charged clear down the middle of the streets, with a disregard for everything; we headed straight as arrows for the French lines, right through the heart of the most formidable Chinese works, where but twelve hours before furious attacks had been developed.  We tore through hundreds of feet of trenches, barricades, saps, half-opened tunnels, where everything was scored and beaten by the riotous passage of nickel and lead.  We vaguely saw, as we rushed, lines of mat huts, broken walls, charred timbers, countless brass cartridge cases, gaping holes—­all the wreckage left by these weeks of insane warfare.  But of living things there was not a trace.

Beating our way rapidly forward, we at length passed through those death-strewn French Legation lines, and reached our own last barricades, where the defence had been driven.  Supposing that our men were still behind them, we violently shouted that we were friends.  Nobody answered us.