not of the party, raised his head to look, but the reserve artillery
was at the rear, in the shelter of a little grove of trees.

"_Nom de Dieu!_" yelled Rochas, "will you lie down!"

And Maurice had barely more than complied with this intimation when a
shell passed screaming over him. From that time forth there seemed to
be no end to them. The enemy's gunners were slow in obtaining the
range, their first projectiles passing over and landing well to the
rear of the battery, which was now opening in reply. Many of their
shells, too, fell upon the soft ground, in which they buried
themselves without exploding, and for a time there was a great display
of rather heavy wit at the expense of those bloody sauerkraut eaters.

"Well, well!" said Loubet, "their fireworks are a fizzle!"

"They ought to take them in out of the rain," sneered Chouteau.

Even Rochas thought it necessary to say something. "Didn't I tell you
that the dunderheads don't know enough even to point a gun?"

But they were less inclined to laugh when a shell burst only ten yards
from them and sent a shower of earth flying over the company; Loubet
affected to make light of it by ordering his comrades to get out their
brushes from the knapsacks, but Chouteau suddenly became very pale and
had not a word to say. He had never been under fire, nor had Pache and
Lapoulle, nor any member of the squad, in fact, except Jean. Over eyes
that had suddenly lost their brightness lids flickered tremulously;
voices had an unnatural, muffled sound, as if arrested by some
obstruction in the throat. Maurice, who was sufficiently master of