But he was uneasy. Patrols sent out had failed to get into touch with the covering cavalry. The distant artillery roll was nearer. There had been one inexplicable burst of fire some miles away to the right. As night fell he ordered the new trenches to be manned with the bulk of his force, leaving outposts and grand'garde on the plateau above the ravine and down the valley. One company only he retained near the château. That evening he sat again in the salon of his hostess. All was quiet. The dog snored in front of the hearth. At his request the countess seated herself at the piano, played dreamily with bowed head. The soft harmonies that awoke under her fingers seemed only to make the silence musical. Suddenly a shot re-echoed loud along the valley; another and another followed. There was a burst of rapid, irregular fire, indefinitely prolonged. The colonel rushed to a window, flung it open, listened. The outposts down the valley were being driven in. His companion had risen, stood by the piano with tense features. There was a loud hurried knock on the door. She ran to open it. A Zouave entered, breathing heavily from swift exertion. Saluting, he handed a message to the colonel. It was from the commander of the grand'garde on the edge of the ravine above. He reported that his advanced posts were in contact with the enemy, were retiring. For one moment the colonel stood by the window, listening to the rapid clatter of the rifles, deciding which was the heavier attack. He wrote an order to the officer above. The messenger disappeared. The countess was holding out his fez and his revolver. One wild embrace and he sprang out of the room, dashed through the adjoining salons, out into the night. In the courtyard he found the reserve company assembled, awaiting his orders. He gave them, quickly, succinctly. The company fell into fours, doubled out of the courtyard into the darkness to form a screen across the valley behind which the men above could seek safety. From the widening ravine the rifle fire swelled in intensity, was a continuous loud re-echoing clatter. Above, sharp definite reports rang out, were rapidly multiplied. It was the grand'garde--_feu à volonté_. He glanced to the other wall of the ravine and smiled in a grim satisfaction. His orders were being obeyed. The long line of trenches he knew to be there lay in silence and darkness. Above him there was one fierce paroxysm of fire and then the reports diminished, sprang from lower levels. He saw quick flashes of light among the trees. Wounded men limped and hobbled past him in the darkness. The outpost was retiring into the valley. A bullet cracked close to him. He turned, suddenly conscious of companionship. The countess was standing at his side, her pale dress luminous in the night. The dog growled angrily in front of her. "Pauline!" His voice was almost a shriek of alarm for her. "Pauline! For the love of God, come with me--now--there is yet time! I cannot leave you!"