ore than one of them who would not have slept so well, for men cling
to life, and it is a sad thing to think, "to-day I draw my last breath!"

XVIII

During the night the air was heavy, and I wakened every hour in spite
of my great fatigue, but my comrades slept on, some talking in their
sleep. Buche did not stir.

Close at hand, on the edge of the forest, our stacked muskets sparkled
in the moonlight. In the distance on the left I could hear the "Qui
vive,"[1] and on our front the "Wer da."[2] Nearer to us, our
sentinels stood motionless, up to their waists in the standing grain.

[1] Who goes there!--French.

[2] Who goes there!--German.

I rose up softly and looked about me. In the vicinity of Sombref, two
leagues to our right, I could hear a great tumult from time to time,
which would increase and then cease entirely. It might have been
little gusts of wind among the leaves, but there was not a breath of
air and not a drop of dew fell, and I thought, "Those are the cannon
and wagons of the Prussians, galloping over the Namur road; their
battalions and squadrons, which are coming continually. What a
position we shall be in to-morrow with that mass of men already before
us, and re-enforcements arriving every moment."

They had extinguished their fires at St. Amand and at Ligny, but they
burned brighter than ever at Sombref. The Prussians who had just
arrived after forced marches were no doubt making their soup.

A thousand thoughts ran through my brain, and I said to myself from
time to time, "You escaped from Lutzen and Leipzig and Hanau, why not
escape this time also?"

But the hopes which I cherished did not prevent me from realizing that
the battle would be a terrible one. I lay down, however, and slept
soundly for half an hour, when the drum-major, Padoue himself,
commenced to beat the reveille. He promenaded up and down the edge of
the wood and turned off his rolls and double rolls with great
satisfaction. The officers were standing in the grain on the hill-side
in a group, looking toward Fleurus, and talking among themselves. Our
reveille always commenced before that of the Austrians or Prussians or
any of our enemies. It is like the song of the lark at dawn. They
commence theirs on their big drums with a dismal roll which gives you
the idea of a funeral. But, on the contrary, their buglers have pretty
airs for sounding the reveille, while ours only give two or three
blasts, a