near the Calvary of Illy, unless the two-fold flanking movement could be promptly checked.  He knew nothing of tactics or strategy, had nothing but his common sense to guide him; but he looked with fear and trembling on that great triangle that had the Meuse for one of its sides, and for the other two the 7th and 1st corps on the north and east respectively, while the extreme angle at the south was occupied by the 12th at Bazeilles—­all the three corps facing outward on the periphery of a semicircle, awaiting the appearance of an enemy who was to deliver his attack at some one point, where or when no one could say, but who, instead, fell on them from every direction at once.  And at the very center of all, as at the bottom of a pit, lay the city of Sedan, her ramparts furnished with antiquated guns, destitute of ammunition and provisions.

“Understand,” said Weiss, with a repetition of his previous gesture, extending his arms and bringing his hands slowly together, “that is how it will be unless your generals keep their eyes open.  The movement at Bazeilles is only a feint—­”

But his explanation was confused and unintelligible to the lieutenant, who knew nothing of the country, and the young man shrugged his shoulders with an expression of impatience and disdain for the bourgeois in spectacles and frock coat who presumed to set his opinion against the marshal’s.  Irritated to hear Weiss reiterate his view that the attack on Bazeilles was intended only to mask other and more important movements, he finally shouted: 

“Hold your tongue, will you!  We shall drive them all into the Meuse, those Bavarian friends of yours, and that is all they will get by their precious feint.”

While they were talking the enemy’s skirmishers seemed to have come up closer; every now and then their bullets were heard thudding against the dyehouse wall, and our men, kneeling behind the low parapet of the courtyard, were beginning to reply.  Every second the report of a chassepot rang out, sharp and clear, upon the air.

“Oh, of course! drive them into the Meuse, by all means,” muttered Weiss, “and while we are about it we might as well ride them down and regain possession of the Carignan road.”  Then addressing himself to Delaherche, who had stationed himself behind the pump where he might be out of the way of the bullets:  “All the same, it would have been their wisest course to make tracks last night for Mezieres, and if I were in their place I would much rather be there than here.  As it is, however, they have got to show fight, since retreat is out of the question now.”

“Are you coming?” asked Delaherche, who, notwithstanding his eager curiosity, was beginning to look pale in the face.  “We shall be unable to get into the city if we remain here longer.”

“Yes, in one minute I will be with you.”