But Lemaitre was already on his legs, putting his crushed shako straight on his head.  A bit stunned, he seemed to collect his ideas for an instant, and then I saw his good-natured ruddy face turned towards me.  It lit up with a broad grin.

“Any damage, old fellow?” I asked.

“Nothing broken, sir.”

“Hurry up, then.”

And there was Lemaitre, striding along with his short legs and heavy boots, jumping ditches and banks with a nimbleness of which I declare I should not have thought him capable.  It is curious to note the agility the report of a rifle volley lends to the legs of a dismounted trooper.  Lemaitre came in to the shelter in the valley as soon as I did; and almost at the same time Finet, the sapper, brought in his old road-companion “Ramier,” which he had been able to catch.  It was painful to see the poor animal; his lameness had already become more marked.  He could only get along with great difficulty, and his eyes showed he was in pain.

I glanced hurriedly at the spot where the bullet had struck him.  The small hole could hardly be seen against the brown skin, just at the point of the left buttock.

“Just wait here for us; I shall be back in a moment.”

I wanted to see if to the east of the village I could note anything interesting, and I turned round towards my other troopers, whose horses were panting behind us.  I was horrified to see Corporal Madelaine’s face streaming with blood.

“It is nothing, sir ...; it passed in front of my nose.”

He wiped his face with the back of his hand.  It had indeed been grazed by a bullet.  One half-inch more, and the good fellow’s nose would have been carried off.  Fortunately the skin was hardly broken.  Madelaine went on: 

“It’s nothing; ... but my mare....”

He had dismounted, and with a look of distress showed me his horse’s blood-stained thigh.  “Attraction” was the name of his pretty and delicate little grey mare, which he loved and cared for passionately.  A bullet had pierced her thigh right through, and the blood had flowed down her leg.  I calmed him by saying, “Come, come; it will be nothing.  Go on foot behind that wood, and get quietly under cover with Lemaitre.  I will soon come and join you.”

And I went off with Vercherin, Finet, and Wattrelot.  I tried to get round to the right of Courgivault.  But now that the first shots had been fired we were not allowed to come nearer.  As soon as we appeared a violent fusillade burst from the outskirts of the village, which forced us to beat a rapid retreat.  There was no longer any doubt about it; Courgivault was occupied, and occupied in strength.

Under the shelter of a bank I quickly dismounted, and Wattrelot took my horse’s bridle.  Whilst I knelt on one knee and on the other wrote my report for the Colonel, Vercherin and Finet, at an interval of 100 yards, kept a good look-out on the ridge for the enemy’s movements.  I handed my message to Wattrelot: