ter to the German soldiers.

There lay before them the great wealthy town, looking as if one could
throw a pebble through one of its windows, so near did it seem in the
clear winter air. The smoke went straight up out of its thousand
chimneys, exciting appetizing thoughts of warm rooms and boiling pots
on kitchen fires. There were the sheltered streets full of shops,
friendly cafes, houses with beds and lamps and well-covered tables--but
the soldiers stood outside on the cold hillside, chilled to the bone by
the north wind, so tired that they could hardly stand, and often
sinking down in the snow, where they lay benumbed, without energy to
rouse themselves. They had gone for twenty-four hours without food, and
had only some black bread remaining for the evening, worth a kingdom in
price. Between their misery and the abundance before their eyes lay the
enemy's army, and this army they must conquer, if they would sit at
those tables and lie in the soft beds. The general wanted to take Dijon
in order to remove a danger menacing to South Germany, and to secure
the advance of the German army toward Paris and Belfort--the soldiers
had the same desire, but their longing for Dijon was for comfort,
satisfaction of hunger, and rest.

The German battalion kept on pressing forward. This mistake was hardly
the fault of the officers, who on this occasion strove to keep the men
back rather than encourage them to advance. The Garibaldian troops had
the advantages of superior forces, a greater range of artillery, and
sheltered position in the hills, and they pressed with increased
courage to the attack. The Germans did not await them quietly but threw
themselves on them, so that in many cases it came to a hand-to-hand
fight, and serious work was done with bayonets and the butt-ends of
rifles. At length the French began to retreat, and the Germans with
loud "Hurrahs!" flung themselves after them. But the pursuit was soon
abandoned, as they had to withdraw under the fire from the Talant and
Fontaine positions, and then, after a short rest, the French again
advanced. So the fight lasted for three hours, the snowflakes dispersed
by the balls, the men stamping their half-frozen feet on the ground,
stained in so many places with blood, but the distance between the
German battalion and beckoning, mocking Dijon never diminished. The
right wing of the brigade made a strenuous attempt, pressed hard toward
Plombieres, forced the Garibaldians back