hird!" she exclaimed. "I knew it."

And she returned to her position, while a storm of bullets
whistled around her ears. "Yes, the Forty-third; Cousin Gunther's
regiment--something told me it must be so. Ah! if my poor husband were
only here!"

After that all Jean's and Maurice's entreaties were ineffectual to make
her keep quiet. She was feverishly restless, constantly protruding her
head to peer into the opposite wood, evidently harassed by some anxiety
that preyed upon her mind. Her companions continued to load and fire
with the same blind fury, pushing her back with their knee whenever she
exposed herself too rashly. It looked as if the Prussians were beginning
to consider that their numbers would warrant them in attacking, for
they showed themselves more frequently and there were evidences of
preparations going on behind the trees. They were suffering severely,
however, from the fire of the French, whose bullets at that short range
rarely failed to bring down their man.

"That may be your cousin," said Jean. "Look, that officer over there,
who has just come out of the house with the green shutters."

He was a captain, as could be seen by the gold braid on the collar of
his tunic and the golden eagle on his helmet that flashed back the level
ray of the setting sun. He had discarded his epaulettes, and carrying
his saber in his right hand, was shouting an order in a sharp,
imperative voice; and the distance between them was so small, a scant
two hundred yards, that every detail of his trim, slender figure was
plainly discernible, as well as the pinkish, stern face and slight blond
mustache.

Henriette scrutinized him with attentive eyes. "It is he," she replied,
apparently unsurprised. "I recognize him perfectly."

With a look of concentrated rage Maurice drew his piece to his shoulder
and covered him. "The cousin--Ah! sure as there is a God in heaven he
shall pay for Weiss."

But, quivering with excitement, she jumped to her feet and knocked up
the weapon, whose charge was wasted on the air.

"Stop, stop! we must not kill acquaintances, relatives! It is too
barbarous."

And, all her womanly instincts coming back to her, she sank down behind
the tree and gave way to a fit of violent weeping. The horror of it all
was too much for her; in her great dread and sorrow she was forgetful of
all beside.

Rochas, meantime, was in his element. He had excited the few zouaves and
other troops around him to such a pi