ield of glory and heard again
the shout of victory; Lorraine would be saved; he beheld the tricolor
floating over the capital of the enemies of France. Perhaps, it would be
planted there by Pierre. And he saw in his imagination Pierre climbing
at a stride from a private to a captain, a colonel, a--! who could
tell?--had not the _baton_ been won in a campaign? As to dreaming that a
battle could bring any other result than victory!--It was impossible!

"Where are you going?" shouted derisively the men of a regiment at rest,
to the Sergeant's command as they marched past.

"To Berlin," replied the Sergeant.

The reply evoked cheers, and that regiment that day stood its ground
until a fourth of its men fell. The old soldier's enthusiasm infected
the new recruits, who were pale and nervous under the strain of waiting.
His eye rested on Pierre, who was standing down near the other end of
the company, and the father's face beamed as he thought he saw there
resolution and impatience for the fight. Ha! France should ring with his
name; the Quarter should go wild with delight.

Just then the skirmishers ahead began to fire, and in a few moments it
was answered by a sullen note from the villages beyond the plain, and
the battle had begun. The dropping fire of the skirmish line increased
and merged into a rattle, and suddenly the thunder broke from a hill
to their right, and ran along the crest until the earth trembled under
their feet. Bullets began to whistle over their heads and clip the
leaves of the trees beyond them, and the long, pulsating scream of
shells flying over them and exploding in the park behind them made the
faces of the men look gray in the morning twilight. Waiting was worse
than fighting. It told on the young men.

In a little while a staff-officer galloped up to the colonel, who was
sitting on his horse in the road, quietly smoking a cigar, and a moment
later the whole line was in motion. They were wheeled to the right, and
marched under shelter of the knoll in the direction of the firing. As
they passed the turn of the road, they caught a glimpse of the hill
ahead where the artillery, enveloped in smoke, was thundering from an
ever-thickening cloud. A battery of eight guns galloped past them, and
turning the curve disappeared in a cloud of dust. To the new recruits it
seemed as if the whole battle was being fought right there. They could
see nothing but their own line, and only a part of that; smoke and d