“Attention, children! Show yourselves brave men! No firing! get at the wretches with the bayonet! When I shout ‘hurrah!’ follow me--closely and all together--we will show them what we can do. We won’t cover ourselves with shame, will we, children? For the Czar, our father!” “What’s the name of the company chief?” asked Pesth from a yunker next to him. “He is a brave one!” “Yes, he’s always so under fire. He is called Lissinkoffsky.” Just at this moment a flame spurted out, followed by a deafening report; splinters and stones flew in the air. Fifty seconds later one of the stones fell from a great height and crushed the foot of a soldier. A shell had fallen in the middle of the company, a proof that the French had noticed the column. “Ah! you are sending us shells now! Let us get at you and you will taste the Russian bayonet, curse you!” The captain shouted so loud that the commander of the battalion ordered him to be silent. The first company rose up, after that the second; the soldiers took up their muskets and the battalion advanced. Pesth, seized by a foolish terror, could not remember whether they marched far; he went on like a drunken man. Suddenly thousands of fires flashed on all sides, with whizzings and crackings. He gave a yell and ran forward, because they all yelled and ran; then he tripped and fell over something. It was the company chief, wounded at the head of his troops, who took the yunker for a Frenchman and seized his leg. Pesth pulled his feet away and got up. Some one threw himself on him in the darkness, and he was almost knocked over again. A voice shouted to him, “Kill him, then! What are you waiting for?” A hand seized his musket, the point of his bayonet buried itself in something soft. “Ah! Dieu!” These words were spoken in French, with an accent of pain and fright. The yunker knew he had just killed a Frenchman. A cold sweat moistened his whole body; he began to tremble, and threw down his musket. But that lasted only a second; the thought that he was a hero came to his mind. Picking up his gun, he left the dead man, running and shouting “Hurrah!” with the rest. Twenty steps farther on he reached the trench where our troops and the commander of battalion were. “I have killed one!” said he to the latter. “You are a brave fellow, baron,” was the reply. XI. “Did you know that Praskoukine is dead?” said Pesth to Kalouguine on the way back. “It isn’t possible!” “Why not? I saw him myself.” “Good-by; I am in a hurry.” “A lucky day!” thought Kalouguine, as he was entering his quarters. “For the first time I am lucky. It has been a brilliant affair; I have come out of it safe and sound; there must be recommendations for decoration. A sword of honor will be the least they can give me. Faith, I have well deserved it!” He made his report to the general, and went to his room. Prince Galtzine was reading a book at the table, and had been waiting for him a long time.