Suddenly, as in a dream, I heard voices, and a French section arrived on the height where I had fallen. Very plucky, despising danger, the men knelt, and with careful aim fired. A sergeant approached me. “Wounded, old chap?” “You are advancing, then? All the better. You must try to take me away, won’t you?” “Yes,” he answered; “reinforcements are coming, and here’s a stretcher-bearer.” It was true. A stretcher-bearer was close beside me. Helped by the sergeant, he looked to see where I was wounded. They cut the legs of my trousers, took off my boots; no trace of anything. They raised my overcoat and saw the blood flowing abundantly. I did not see them, I did not hear them, but I felt their looks condemned me. They lightly dressed my wound. “It is nothing,” said one; “wait a little; they will take you away in a moment.” The battle continued, the bullets whistled around us, ricochetting from the stones in the road, cutting the branches of the trees. The enemy could not be far away, for their artillery was silent. “Your rifle is all right?” a man asked me. “Yes; take it.” “Thanks; the butt of mine is broken.” “I say,” said another, “let me have your glasses.” Stooping, he removed the glasses on which I had fallen and which were hurting my side. Standing beside a tree, this soldier, glass in hand, watched the enemy and gave orders with the coolness and air of a Marshal of France certain of victory. The sergeant was just then wounded. Our supply of cartridges began to run short. Within reach of my hand lay a few. I occupied myself by passing them on to my comrades, who continued their fire. “Are the reinforcements coming?” “Yes, old fellow, don’t worry; we are not going to leave you,” and he signed to the reinforcements to approach. But, suddenly, I no longer saw the stretcher. “They are coming back immediately,” said my neighbour; “our sergeant has been hit, they are taking him to the rear.” The struggle was not equal. The French ranks thinned and received no reinforcements, the munitions were running short, they were obliged to retreat to avoid being surrounded. “Poor chap,” said a man to me, as a sort of good-bye, as he reluctantly retired after firing his last shot. This time all was over; there was no more hope! The Germans were coming. It was impossible for me to see them, but I could hear their shouts and the vile noises they made as they advanced. I was lying on the ground at the mercy of the enemy who were hurrying to the assault, exasperated at the resistance of those who had sown death in their ranks, for the French had given way only at the last moment. In a few seconds the Germans were upon me. * * * * *