"I think that this one is lost," answered Desaix; "but as it is only
three o'clock in the afternoon, we have time to gain another."

"Only," said a voice, "we need cannon!"

This voice belonged to Marmont, commanding the artillery.

"True, Marmont; but where are we to get them?"

"I have five pieces still intact from the battlefield; we left five more
at Scrivia, which are just coming up."

"And the eight pieces I have with me," said Desaix.

"Eighteen pieces!" said Marmont; "that is all I need." An aide-de-camp
was sent to hasten the arrival of Desaix's guns. His troops were
advancing rapidly, and were scarcely half a mile from the field of
battle. Their line of approach seemed formed for the purpose at hand; on
the left of the road was a gigantic perpendicular hedge protected by a
bank. The infantry was made to file in a narrow line along it, and it
even hid the cavalry from view.

During this time Marmont had collected his guns and stationed them
in battery on the right front of the army. Suddenly they burst forth,
vomiting a deluge of grapeshot and canister upon the Austrians. For an
instant the enemy wavered.

Bonaparte profited by that instant of hesitation to send forward the
whole front of the French army.

"Comrades!" he cried, "we have made steps enough backward; remember, it
is my custom to sleep on the battlefield!"

At the same moment, and as if in reply to Marmont's cannonade, volleys
of musketry burst forth to the left, taking the Austrians in flank.
It was Desaix and his division, come down upon them at short range and
enfilading the enemy with the fire of his guns.

The whole army knew that this was the reserve, and that it behooved them
to aid this reserve by a supreme effort.

"Forward!" rang from right to left. The drums beat the charge. The
Austrians, who had not seen the reserves, and were marching with their
guns on their shoulders, as if at parade, felt that something strange
was happening within the French lines; they struggled to retain the
victory they now felt to be slipping from their grasp.

But everywhere the French army had resumed the offensive. On all sides
the ominous roll of the charge and the victorious Marseillaise were
heard above the din. Marmont's battery belched fire; Kellermann dashed
forward with his cuirassiers and cut his way through both lines of the
enemy.

Desaix jumped ditches, leaped hedges, and, reaching a little eminence,
turned to see if his divis