taking place behind the thick curtain of the wood. But the curtain
remained impenetrable.

In the few seconds we spent below that deserted house in the little
trampled garden-close, under the rain of bullets that was falling
around us, one dread oppressed us, and lay so heavy on our hearts that
it made us dumb and incapable of exchanging our thoughts, or, rather,
the one thought that haunted us all. "What has become of the second
squadron? What has become of our Colonel, who had stayed in command?
What has become of all our dear fellows there on the other side of the
wood?" Uncertainty is indeed the worst of all miseries, because it
makes its victims believe and imagine every horror.

From our post we could see at the windows and doors of the little
houses scattered among the fields the anxious and inquiring faces of
our men. They, too, were tortured by uncertainty. They stood huddled
together, looking in our direction, waiting for a sign or an order.

Suddenly our doubts were dissipated.

"To arms!" cried our Major, in a ringing voice that echoed above the
crackling of the bullets and was heard by the whole squadron.

He had no need to repeat the order. In the twinkling of an eye my
troop had formed behind me, in squads. My men waited in absolute
silence, their eyes fixed upon me, kneeling on one knee, and leaning
on their rifles. I seemed to hear all their hearts beating in unison
with mine; and knew their wills ready to second mine.

The Major gave the word of command. We disposed our men in skirmishing