ped and huddled together than the sleepers, nor more quiet than
they. When the cold, even to the most warmly dressed, became
intolerable, they would spring up and stagger about, stumbling over
heaps of dead and living men, the latter cursing them loudly.

The dreadful night passed, and at most a third only of the German
troops had rested. The gray dawn began to appear in the sky, bugles
sounded, and cries of command were heard, but it was hard for the poor
soldiers to rouse themselves, to stir their benumbed limbs, which at
last were beginning to get a little warm. One after another the ridges
of the Jura Mountains became suffused with pink as the sun rose, but
the fissures in the hills and the valleys were still dark and filled
with thick mist, behind which the enemy's position and the town of
Dijon were still invisible. The soldiers soon forced their stiffened
limbs into position, the last remaining rations were quickly
distributed, and a picked number of the freshest of the men, i.e. those
who had had no night duty, went out doggedly against the enemy, with
trailing steps and gray, tired-out faces. The crackle of their lively
firing aroused the French from sleep, and perhaps from dreams of
conquest and fame, put them to confusion, and drove them back toward
Dijon. The Germans followed, this time without shouting, and as the fog
gradually dispersed, they saw the first skirmishers of the batteries on
Talant and Fontaine, apparently far distant against the Porte Guillaume
(the old town gate of Dijon, built to imitate a Roman arch of victory),
were really quite near them. One more tug and strain and the goal was
near. A fresh swing was put into the attack, but the French had found
time with the advancing day to gather themselves together, and to be
aware of the inferior numbers of the attacking party, and they threw
themselves in column formation down the hill, which the German division
threatened to attack in the rear. Fresh troops came marching out of
Dijon, and the Germans, to avoid being between two fires, drew back
again through the valley behind the mountain. The French pressed after
them, but were received by the German reserves with such a firm front,
that they paused and slowly retreated.

General von Kettler knew that in spite of his momentary success, he
could expect no further advance from his half-starved, cold, and weary
brigade, and therefore he ordered them half a mile to the rear. The
Garibaldian troops