dismounted Chasseurs emerging from an alley that ran down steeply to
the Marne. They belonged to F.'s troop. Two of them were supporting
the third, whom we at once recognised. It was Laurent, a fine fellow,
and a favourite with the whole squadron. It went to our hearts to see
him. His left eye was nothing but a red patch, from which blood was
flowing freely, drenching his clothing. He was moaning softly and,
blinded by the blood, allowed himself to be led like a child. The
corporal with him explained: "A bullet went in just over his eye. I
don't know if the eye itself was hit."

The Captain sprang off his horse. "Cheer up, Laurent, it shall be
attended to at once. Perhaps it will be nothing, my man. Come with me,
we will take you to the Red Cross ambulance close by."

Then between his groans the wounded man said a thing I shall not
easily forget: "_Mon Capitaine_, ... haven't they taken away their
guns yet?"

He still took an interest in the battle. I heard afterwards that F.
had sighted the German guns, and that the fire of his troop had been
directed upon them. Laurent would have liked to hear that they had
been driven away. He was carried off to the ambulance. I went on
towards the bridge; the cannon and rifle fire still raged fiercely,
but none of the shots reached the bank where we were. We had to repeat
the trying process of crossing the swaying bridge by fours at walking
pace. I led off with four troopers. It was not so tedious this time,
as my eyes were distracted by the view of the green meadows on the
opposite side.

The Colonel had disposed the brigade in such a way that he could