e so far out as we thought," one said, "or we should be
beyond range of the guns."

"Perhaps the Germans are attacking us," an old man suggested, but the
idea was received with derision, and Mary caught no more of the
conversation as she hurried along.

It was an absolute relief to her when she entered the ambulance, for the
continued roar of the guns and the thought of what was going on were
well nigh intolerable to her nerves, and her hands were shaking as she
removed her bonnet and cloak. Even the quiet hospital tents shared in
the excitement outside. The patients whose hurts were comparatively
slight were sitting up in their beds discussing the battle eagerly.
Others more seriously hurt raised their heads to listen, while some
lying apparently unconscious moaned and moved uneasily, muttering
occasionally incoherent words, the quiver in earth and air arousing a
dim sense of battle and danger.

"More work for us," Dr. Swinburne said, as he passed her, while she was
trying to soothe a restless patient into quiet again.

"I am afraid so, Doctor, and by the sound it will be even worse than the
last."

"The loss is not always proportionate to the noise," he said,
cheerfully, "the forts may be merely preparing a way for a general
advance. They said it was to begin this morning."

As before it was not until evening that the wounded began to come in.
Those who were first brought were sombre and depressed. It was the
Germans who were attacking; the French had been surprised and badly
beaten. But later on the news was better. Champigny had been nobly
defended, the French had rallied, and, after hard fighting, the
Prussians were driven back and all the ground lost recovered. Some of
the wounded had been among those who had defended Champigny. To these
Mary put the question she had asked of others who were not too severely
wounded to be able to talk. "Who had taken part in the fight?" The
mobiles and the line had all been engaged.

"But there were no National Guards, Nurse."

"Had they seen any Franc-tireurs?"

Hitherto the answer to the question had been, no; but the men from
Champigny gave a different answer.

Yes, a corps had fought there; they did not know who they were. They
were dressed in gray. Whoever they were they fought like tigers. It was
they, they all agreed, who saved Champigny.

"The Prussians were advancing," one said, "and we could not have held
out much longer. They were advancing by the road, an