Sunday came:  the holidays were the days of battle.  Whether because the boys were ashamed of having been beaten last time, or for some other reason, the band to which Sand belonged was even weaker than usual.  Sure, however, of a means of retreat, he accepted battle, notwithstanding.  The struggle was not a long one; the one party was too weak in numbers to make a prolonged resistance, and began to retire in the best order that could be maintained to St. Catherine’s tower, which was reached before much damage had been felt.  Having arrived there, some of the combatants ascended to the ramparts, and while the others defended themselves at the foot of the wall, began to shower stones and pebbles upon the conquerors.  The latter, surprised at the new method of defence which was now for the first time adopted, retreated a little; the rest of the defenders took advantage of the moment to retire into the fortress and shut the door.  Great was the astonishment an the part of the besiegers:  they had always seen that door broken down, and lo! all at once it was presenting to them a barrier which preserved the besieged from their blows.  Three or four went off to find instruments with which to break it down and meanwhile the rest of the attacking farce kept the garrison blockaded.

At the end of half an hour the messengers returned not only with levers and picks, but also with a considerable reinforcement composed of lads from, the village to which they had been to fetch tools.

Then began the assault:  Sand and his companions defended themselves desperately; but it was soon evident that, unless help came, the garrison would be forced to capitulate.  It was proposed that they should draw lots, and that one of the besieged should be chosen, who in spite of the danger should leave the tower, make his way as best he might through the enemy’s army, and go to summon the other lads of Wonsiedel, who had faint-heartedly remained at home.  The tale of the peril in which their Comrades actually were, the disgrace of a surrender, which would fall upon all of them, would no doubt overcome their indolence and induce them to make a diversion that would allow the garrison to attempt sortie.  This suggestion was adopted; but instead of leaving the decision to chance, Sand proposed himself as the messenger.  As everybody knew his courage, his skill, and his lightness of foot, the proposition was unanimously accepted, and the new Decius prepared to execute his act of devotion.  The deed was not free from danger:  there were but two means of egress, one by way of the door, which would lead to the fugitive’s falling immediately into the hands of the enemy; the other by jumping from a rampart so high that the enemy had not set a guard there.  Sand without a moment’s hesitation went to the rampart, where, always religious, even in his childish pleasures, he made a short prayer; then, without fear, without hesitation, with a confidence that was almost superhuman, he sprang to the ground: