bly as before, it was an uninterrupted
sound like the howling of a hurricane, in which no single report or
salvo could be distinguished; the whole building seemed to flame at
once from the top to the bottom in one red glow, and the bullets flew
and whistled in such a confusing mass, that it seemed as if the heavens
were opened and it rained balls, a dozen for every four square foot of
earth, and the men felt that they must be prepared for repeated attacks
of the same description, one after the other without stopping. In but a
few seconds half of the company lay on the ground, and the colors had
disappeared among the fallen. Those who remained standing seemed for a
short time as if stunned. A few, acting on the instinct of
self-preservation, fled almost unconsciously. Among the greater part,
however, the fighting Prussian instinct prevailed, impelling the
soldiers forward and never back, and so with renewed shouts they
pressed on. But only for a few minutes. The colors flew upward again,
raised by hands wearied to death, only to fall again at once. Three
times--four times the flag emerged, sinking again and again, and each
flutter meant a new sacrifice, and each fall the death of a hero. Soon
there was no one left standing, no man and no standard, nothing but a
gray heap of bodies, whose limbs palpitated and moved like some
fabulous sea creature, making groaning, ghostly sounds. Ten or twelve
poor fellows wounded by stray shots sheltered themselves in the sandpit
without weapons, with staring eyes and distorted features. That was all
there was left of the Fifth company.

There was deathly silence in the sandpit; the firing had ceased for
some minutes. The soldiers looked at one another, and at the mountain
of human bodies before them in the evening twilight, and threw doubtful
glances at the handful of men just returned, lying exhausted on the
ground. Suddenly the major called out:

"The colors!"

"The colors!" murmured several men, while others remained silent.

"We must search for them under the wounded," said the major sadly.

His glance strayed right and left, and seemed to invite volunteers
among the twenty or thirty who were nearest to him. The little band
cautiously left their shelter, and set diligently to work on the hill
of dead bodies. But in spite of the growing darkness they were observed
by the French, who began their fire anew, and a few minutes later no
living soul was left on the field.

The capta