The heavy fire of musketry that was now audible behind the park of
Montivilliers, the trees of which overhung the road, made it evident
that something of importance was occurring in that direction. Should the
enemy gain possession of the park Bazeilles would be at their mercy,
but the briskness of the firing was in itself proof that the general
commanding the 12th corps had anticipated the movement and that the
position was adequately defended.

"Look out, there, you blockhead!" exclaimed the lieutenant, violently
forcing Weiss up against the wall; "do you want to get yourself blown to
pieces?"

He could not help laughing a little at the queer figure of the big
gentleman in spectacles, but his bravery had inspired him with a very
genuine feeling of respect, so, when his practiced ear detected a shell
coming their way, he had acted the part of a friend and placed the
civilian in a safer position. The missile landed some ten paces from
where they were and exploded, covering them both with earth and debris.
The citizen kept his feet and received not so much as a scratch, while
the officer had both legs broken.

"It is well!" was all he said; "they have sent me my reckoning!"

He caused his men to take him across the sidewalk and place him with his
back to the wall, near where the dead woman lay, stretched across
her doorstep. His boyish face had lost nothing of its energy and
determination.

"It don't matter, my children; listen to what I say. Don't fire too
hurriedly; take your time. When the time comes for you to charge, I will
tell you."

And he continued to command them still, with head erect, watchful of
the movements of the distant enemy. Another house was burning, directly
across the street. The crash and rattle of musketry, the roar of
bursting shells, rent the air, thick with dust and sulphurous smoke. Men
dropped at the corner of every lane and alley; corpses scattered here
and there upon the pavement, singly or in little groups, made splotches
of dark color, hideously splashed with red. And over the doomed village
a frightful uproar rose and swelled, the vindictive shouts of thousands,
devoting to destruction a few hundred brave men, resolute to die.

Then Delaherche, who all this time had been frantically shouting to
Weiss without intermission, addressed him one last appeal:

"You won't come? Very well! then I shall leave you to your fate. Adieu!"

It was seven o'clock, and he had delayed his departu