en were in wild
flight, all rushing towards the bridge.

"If I were the commander of St. Maur," Rene said, "I would turn my guns
upon these cowards. They are greater enemies to France than are the
Prussians."

"Forward, my children," shouted the old colonel, "let us show them that
there are still some Frenchmen ready to fight and die for their
country."

The officer in command of St. Maur, and the general on the spot, were
equal to the situation. Seventy or eighty field-pieces were massed round
the redoubt, and a tremendous fire opened upon the Prussian batteries
out on the plain, while a strong guard was sent down to the end of the
bridge to bar the way to the mob of fugitives. The Germans had already
obtained possession of the other end of the village when the
Franc-tireurs entered it, but a small body of troops were standing firm.
Some barricades thrown up across the street were manned, and from these
and from every house they replied to the fire of the advancing
Prussians. But the latter were still pushing on, wresting house by house
from their hands, while a hail of shell from the German batteries fell
upon the part of the village still held by the French. As the
Franc-tireurs advanced the colonel ordered one company to wheel off on
either hand to occupy the gardens behind the houses, and so prevent the
enemy from taking the defenders in the rear. He himself pressed forward
down the street to aid the soldiers at the barricades.

The sun had by this time risen, and its light, glinting on the Prussian
helmets, showed strong bodies advancing down the slopes into the
village. The woods on either hand were still held by the French, but the
irregular fire showed that they were not in strong force. The din was
terrific, three or four of the French mitrailleuses were adding to the
roar, and sending streams of bullets into the advancing Germans. Nerved
by the desperation of the situation, and fiercely angered at the
cowardice of their countrymen, the young artists of Cuthbert's company
dashed forward, climbing walls, bursting through hedges, burning with
eagerness to meet the foe.

The Prussian shells were bursting all round, bullets sang above and
around them, the rattle of musketry grew louder and fiercer, but there
was not a moment's check until Francois des Valles shouted to them to
halt behind a low wall. The enemy were but a hundred yards away,
pressing forward through the gardens.

"Steady men, steady," he sh