, one of chasseurs de France, and one of hussars, had
been drawn in and posted in a shallow valley a little to the south of
the Calvary of Illy. The trumpets had sounded: "Dismount!" and then the
officers' command ran down the line to tighten girths and look to packs.

Prosper alighted, stretched his cramped limbs, and gave Zephyr a
friendly pat upon the neck. Poor Zephyr! he felt the degradation of
the ignominious, heartbreaking service they were subjected to almost
as keenly as his master; and not only that, but he had to carry a small
arsenal of stores and implements of various kinds: the holsters stuffed
with his master's linen and underclothing and the greatcoat rolled
above, the stable suit, blouse, and overalls, and the sack containing
brushes, currycomb, and other articles of equine toilet behind the
saddle, the haversack with rations slung at his side, to say nothing of
such trifles as side-lines and picket-pins, the watering bucket and the
wooden basin. The cavalryman's tender heart was stirred by a feeling
of compassion, as he tightened up the girth and looked to see that
everything was secure in its place.

It was a trying moment. Prosper was no more a coward than the next man,
but his mouth was intolerably dry and hot; he lit a cigarette in the
hope that it would relieve the unpleasant sensation. When about to
charge no man can assert with any degree of certainty that he will ride
back again. The suspense lasted some five or six minutes; it was said
that General Margueritte had ridden forward to reconnoiter the ground
over which they were to charge; they were awaiting his return. The five
regiments had been formed in three columns, each column having a depth
of seven squadrons; enough to afford an ample meal to the hostile guns.

Presently the trumpets rang out: "To horse!" and this was succeeded
almost immediately by the shrill summons: "Draw sabers!"

The colonel of each regiment had previously ridden out and taken his
proper position, twenty-five yards to the front, the captains were all
at their posts at the head of their squadrons. Then there was another
period of anxious waiting, amid a silence heavy as that of death. Not a
sound, not a breath, there, beneath the blazing sun; nothing, save the
beating of those brave hearts. One order more, the supreme, the
decisive one, and that mass, now so inert and motionless, would become a
resistless tornado, sweeping all before it.

At that juncture, however