walked quietly towards us. It was not
light enough to distinguish his uniform, but his calm and placid
bearing was in marked contrast to that of the infantry Chasseurs. He
must have recognised the little group formed by the Major, my
comrades, and myself in the middle of the road, for he made straight
for us.

When he got to within twenty paces of us we recognised to our joy
Sergeant Madelin, a non-commissioned officer of our second squadron,
the squadron that had stayed in the trenches with the Colonel and the
machine-gun section. I cannot describe the relief we felt at the sight
of him. Though we could not tell what he was going to say, his
attitude dispelled our fears at once. He gazed at us with wide
astonished eyes from under the peak of his shako, and came on quietly,
as if he were taking a walk, his hands in his pockets, murmuring in a
tone of stupefaction:

"What on earth is the matter?"

"Well, really, this is a little too much!" exclaimed the Major;
"that's just what _we_ want _you_ to tell _us_!"

"But I have nothing to tell you, Major. The trench of the infantry
Chasseurs was taken. We are all right. But the Colonel has sent me to
say that there are signs of a German counter-attack on the left, and
he wants you to reinforce him on that side with your three
squadrons."

He spoke so calmly and with such an air of astonishment that we all
felt inclined to laugh. Madelin had already given proof of his
courage, he had even been mentioned in orders for his valour, but we
had never seen him so placidly good-humoured under fire as on this
occasion. All our fears were at once put to flight, and we thought
only of one thing; to fly to the help of our comrades and win our
share of glory.

"Forward!"

The officers had advanced in front of the line of skirmishers. All the
men sprang up in an instant, and the three squadrons dashed forward
full speed.

But at the exact moment when our men, springing out of the ditches,
began their advance towards the wood, the enemy's artillery,
shortening its range, began to pour a perfect hail of shrapnel on our
line. It was now almost pitch dark, and there was something infernal
in the scene. The shells were bursting at a considerable height above
us, some in front, some behind. They made a horrible kind of music.
There must have been at least two batteries at work upon us, for we
could no longer distinguish even the three characteristic shots of the
German ba