shame and sadness at this condition of affairs; he shrinkingly drew in
his limbs so as to occupy as small a space as possible, endeavoring to
escape from the hostile scorn that he was vaguely conscious of in his
neighbor. But although the night wind without had blown up chill, the
crowded tent was so stifling hot and close that Maurice, in a fever of
exasperation, raised the flap, darted out, and went and stretched
himself on the ground a few steps away. That made Jean still more
unhappy, and in his half-sleeping, half-waking condition he had
troubled dreams, made up of a regretful feeling that no one cared for
him, and a vague apprehension of impending calamity of which he seemed
to hear the steps approaching with measured tread from the shadowy,
mysterious depths of the unknown.

Two hours passed, and all the camp lay lifeless, motionless under the
oppression of the deep, weird darkness, that was instinct with some
dreadful horror as yet without a name. Out of the sea of blackness
came stifled sighs and moans; from an invisible tent was heard
something that sounded like the groan of a dying man, the fitful dream
of some tired soldier. Then there were other sounds that to the
strained ear lost their familiarity and became menaces of approaching
evil; the neighing of a charger, the clank of a sword, the hurrying
steps of some belated prowler. And all at once, off toward the
canteens, a great light flamed up. The entire front was brilliantly
illuminated; the long, regularly aligned array of stacks stood out
against the darkness, and the ruddy blaze, reflected from the
burnished barrels of the rifles, assumed the hue of new-shed blood;
the erect, stern figures of the sentries became visible in the fiery
glow. Could it be the enemy, whose presence the leaders had been
talking of for the past two days, and on whose trail they had come out
from Belfort to Mulhausen? Then a shower of sparks rose high in the