and his tastes during those demoralising days of retreat and merciless hours of pursuit.  But, in spite of all, he had kept his good humour and never lost his gay spirits.  He still accompanied his talk with elaborate gestures, and seemed to be just as much at ease behind his heap of wood, bombarded with bullets, as in the best appointed drawing-room.  His clothes were stained and patched, his beard had begun to grow, and yet under this rough exterior the polished man of the world could always be divined.

He explained the beginnings of the affair with perfect clearness and self-possession; how the scouts sent up to the ridge by d’A. and driven off by the Germans had fallen back upon Jaulgonne; how the first squadron had come to barricade and defend the village, and in what anxiety they were waiting to know what had become of d’A.’s troop, which had started out to reconnoitre the wood.

We hoisted ourselves to the top of the faggot-stack and peeped over carefully.  The glaring white road wound up the flank of the slope between fields dotted with apple trees.  At a distance of 800 yards in front of us stretched the dark border of the wood, from which the fusillade was coming.  To our right, at the edge of the water, on the road leading to Marcilly, F. must have been able to see the enemy, for we could distinctly hear the crackle of his carbines.

Our attention was drawn to a man of F.’s troop running along under the wall, bending almost double to escape the attention of the sniper, and endeavouring to screen himself behind the high grass.  As soon as he came near enough we called out: 

“What is it?”

“The Lieutenant has sent me to say that the enemy has just placed some guns in position up there, in the opening of the wood.”

Saying which, he pointed vaguely in a direction where we could see nothing.  However, we knew that F. would not have warned us if he had not been quite certain of the fact, so for some unpleasant minutes we wondered what the enemy’s objective was.  We longed to know, at once, where the projectiles were going to burst.  Would it be on F.’s troop, or on the bridge, or on the infantry, which, perhaps, were beginning to debouch, or, perhaps, on that portion of the brigade that had remained dismounted on the left bank, drawn up for action?  The uncertainty was worse than the danger itself.  But we were not long in doubt.  Two shrieks of flying shells!  Two explosions about 300 yards in front of us!  Two puffs of white smoke rising above the green fields!  This showed they had an objective we had not considered, namely, d’A.’s troop, for the shrapnel had burst in the direction he had just taken with his men.