There was no need for him to make any sign to me.  I understood that he saw something, and I galloped up to him at once.  He was as calm as usual, only his blue eyes were a little more dilated, and he spoke more rapidly, with an accent I had not heard before.

“Mon Lieutenant, ... there behind that stack, it seemed to me ...  I thought I saw a head rise above the grass....”

I looked in the direction he pointed to with his carbine, which he held at arm’s length.  I saw nothing but the silent and peaceful village; I had the same impression of a hateful and depressing void.  And, strange to say, our two horses, whose reins had been hanging loose on their necks, appeared to be suddenly seized with a simultaneous terror, and both at once turned right round.  I managed to bring mine back by applying the spur, and while Vercherin, who was carried further, came back slowly, I used my glasses again, to make a closer inspection of all the points of the village.

Then, at the very moment that I was putting the glasses to my eyes, I saw, at less than 100 yards distance, a whole line of sharpshooters, dressed in grey, rise quickly in front of me.  For one short moment a terrible pang shot through us.  How many were there?  Perhaps 300.  And almost at the same time a formidable volley of rifle shots rang out.  They had been watching us for a long time.  Lying in the grass that lined the road leading to the farm or else behind the stacks, with the admirable discipline which makes them so formidable, they had carried out their orders.  Not one of them had shown himself.  The Hauptmann (captain) alone, no doubt, put up his head from time to time in order to judge the favourable moment for ordering them to fire.  It was he, no doubt, very fortunately for us, who had been perceived by Vercherin just for one moment.  If it had not been for the prudence which we had gained by experience not one of us would have escaped.  Fortunately every one of my men had kept the place exactly that I had assigned him.  Not one of them flinched under the storm.  And yet, Heaven knows what sinister music the bullets played around our ears!  We had to be off.

I made a sign which was quickly understood.  We all turned and galloped off towards the little depression we had emerged from just before.  The bullets accompanied us with their hateful hissing, which made us duck our heads instinctively.  But inwardly I rejoiced at their eagerness to lay us low, for in their hurry they aimed badly.

We had almost reached our shelter when I suddenly saw to the right of me “Ramier,” Lemaitre’s horse, fall like a log.  As I was trying to stop my mare, who showed an immoderate desire to put herself out of danger, I saw both horse and rider struggling for a moment on the ground, forming a confused mixture of hoofs in the air and waving arms.  Then “Ramier” got up and set off alone, neighing sadly, and with a limping trot that did not look very promising.