trail
they had come out from Belfort to Mulhausen? Then a shower of sparks
rose high in the air and the conflagration subsided. It was only the
pile of green wood that had been so long the object of Loubet's and
Lapoulle's care, and which, after having smoldered for many hours, had
at last flashed up like a fire of straw.

Jean, alarmed by the vivid light, hastily left the tent and was near
falling over Maurice, who had raised himself on his elbow. The darkness
seemed by contrast more opaque than it had been before, and the two men
lay stretched on the bare ground, a few paces from each other. All that
they could descry before them in the dense shadows of the night was the
window of the farm-house, faintly illuminated by the dim candle, which
shone with a sinister gleam, as if it were doing duty by the bedside of
a corpse. What time was it? two o'clock, or three, perhaps. It was plain
that the staff had not made acquaintance with their beds that night.
They could hear Bourgain-Desfeuilles' loud, disputatious voice; the
general was furious that his rest should be broken thus, and it required
many cigars and toddies to pacify him. More telegrams came in; things
must be going badly; silhouettes of couriers, faintly drawn against the
uncertain sky line, could be descried, galloping madly. There was the
sound of scuffling steps, imprecations, a smothered cry as of a man
suddenly stricken down, followed by a blood-freezing silence. What could
it be? Was it the end? A breath, chill and icy as that from the lips of
death, had passed over the camp that lay lost in slumber and agonized
expectation.

It was at that moment that Jean and Maurice recognized in the tall,
thin, spectral form that passed swiftly by, their colonel, de Vineuil.
He was accompanied by the regimental surgeon, Major Bouroche, a large
man with a leonine face They were conversing in broken, unfinished
sentences, whisperingly, such a conversation as we sometimes hear in
dreams.

"It came by the way of Basle. Our 1st division all cut to pieces. The
battle lasted twelve hours; the whole army is retreating--"

The colonel's specter halted and called by name another specter, which
came lightly forward; it was an elegant ghost, faultless in uniform and
equipment.

"Is that you, Beaudoin?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"Ah! bad news, my friend, terrible news! MacMahon beaten at
Froeschwiller, Frossard beaten at Spickeren, and between them de Failly,
held in check where