his feet, to discover, if possible, the trail of the invisible enemies
whose daring was well known to him. Desperate at seeing and hearing
nothing to justify his fears, he turned aside from the road and
ascended, not without difficulty, one or two hillocks. The other
officers and the soldiers, observing the anxiety of a leader in whom
they trusted and whose worth was known to them, knew that his extreme
watchfulness meant danger; but not suspecting its imminence, they
merely stood still and held their breaths by instinct. Like dogs
endeavoring to guess the intentions of a huntsman, whose orders are
incomprehensible to them though they faithfully obey him, the soldiers
gazed in turn at the valley, at the woods by the roadside, at the
stern face of their leader, endeavoring to read their fate. They
questioned each other with their eyes, and more than one smile ran
from lip to lip.

When Hulot returned to his men with an anxious look, Beau-Pied, a
young sergeant who passed for the wit of his company, remarked in a
low voice: "Where the deuce have we poked ourselves that an old
trooper like Hulot should pull such a gloomy face? He's as solemn as a
council of war."

Hulot gave the speaker a stern look, silence being ordered in the
ranks. In the hush that ensued, the lagging steps of the conscripts on
the creaking sand of the road produced a recurrent sound which added a
sort of vague emotion to the general excitement. This indefinable
feeling can be understood only by those who have felt their hearts
beat in the silence of the night from a painful expectation heightened
by some noise, the monotonous recurrence of which seems to distil
terror into their minds, drop by drop.