By a fortunate chance the colonel was near when the panting Marie scrambled over the parapet to the accompaniment of a dozen rifle bullets. On the point of collapse, the old woman sank into his arms, stammered confused unintelligible words, gave him the scrap of paper. Consigning her to the care of an orderly, he read the message, then raised his head, his fingers crushing the paper. He stood motionless, in intense thought. Slowly his eyes turned, fell upon the old woman shaking more with fright from the narrowly escaped bullets than from her exertions. Then his gaze lifted, fixed itself with frowning concentration upon the clay wall of the trench. He saw only with an inner vision. Around him no one spoke. His jaw set hard. He raised himself upon the fire-step, gazed over the parapet through his glasses. The opposing lip of the ravine, bare of undergrowth a few yards from the top, lay silent, seemingly deserted. He called up an officer, handed him his glasses, indicated a point, ordered an unceasing watch upon it. Then he sent orderlies for his chefs-de-bataillon and the artillery observation officer in all haste. They came. The battalion commanders received definite instructions and departed. The artillery officer remained with him. The ancient Marie sat upon the fire-step of the trench, trembling but recovering. She watched the saviour of her mistress with fascinated eyes. The trench began to fill with soldiers. They crouched in their firing positions, their heads kept carefully below the parapet. Here and there little groups were busy about the machine-guns, fitted the long comb-like strips of cartridges, huddled ready to hoist the weapon into action. The watching officer called, without moving his head. "Infantry are slipping into the ravine, mon colonel!" The colonel, stern, impassive, ordered him to report when the movement ceased. The long trench filled with crouching riflemen lay in a hush of intense expectancy. There was scarce a movement save the quick, involuntary jerks of nerves at strain. The old woman's eyes began to wander, puzzled, seeking comprehension. The wild rush forward she had imagined, would it never come? She waited, breathless, for the inspiring command of the colonel that should wake the tumultuous Hurrah! The watching officer reported: "Movement has ceased, mon colonel. About two hundred men." The colonel drew his watch from his pocket, glanced at the dial. Beyond that he made no movement. The old woman's eyes were fixed upon him. Suddenly she noticed that he wore neither sword nor revolver. In a flash she understood. She sprang up like a madwoman, crying at the top of her voice. "Soldiers! To the rescue! The Boches are taking away my mistress! Now! Save her! Your colonel--her lover--abandons her! _Abandons her!_ Cowards! Cowards! Do you want an old woman to show you the way?"