General Margueritte commanded five regiments of horse, principally Chasseurs d’Afrique. At the request of Ducrot he promptly moved out from cover, and prepared to charge; but wishing to reconnoitre the ground, he rode in advance, and was hit in the head by a bullet which traversed his face. Mortally wounded, he gave the command to De Galliffet, and rode off, supported by two men, and grasping the saddle with both hands, “the star of his arm,” as Colonel Bonie poetically calls him. Then De Galliffet performed his task, and rode straight into the intrusive enemy. For half an hour, on the hill sides south of Floing, and even the lowlands bordering the Meuse, the dashing French horsemen dauntlessly struck at their foes. The German infantry scattered in lines of skirmishers, were just attaining the crest of the eminence, when the cavalry dashed upon them. They broke through the skirmishers, but fell in heaps under the fire of the compact bodies of supports. Failing to crush a front, they essayed the flanks and even the rear, and nothing dismayed, sought again and again to ride over the stubborn adversary, who, relying on his rifle, would not budge. The more distant infantry and the guns, when occasion served, smote these devoted cavaliers. Sometimes the Germans met them in line, at others they formed groups, or squares as the French call them, and occasionally they fought back to back. One body of horse rode into a battery, and was only repelled by the fire of a company of infantry. Another dashed through a village on the banks of the river, and although they were harried by infantry, and turned aside and followed by some Prussian hussars, several rode far down the river, and created some disorder in the German trains. There were many charges, all driven home as far at least as the infantry fire would permit, more than one carrying the furious riders up to the outskirts of Floing. But, in the end, the unequal contests everywhere had the same result—bloody defeat for the horseman, who matched himself, his lance or sword and steed against the breech-loader held by steady hands in front of keen eyes. Yet it is not surprising that these daring charges excited the ungrudging admiration and deep sympathy of friend and foe. They did not arrest the march of the German infantry, or turn the tide of battle, or even infuse new courage into the French soldiers, who were exposed to trials which few, if any, troops could bear. But they showed, plainly enough, that the “furia francese” survived in the cavalry of France, and that, if the mounted men refused or disdained to perform more useful work by scouting afar and covering the front of armies, they could still charge with unabated heroism on the field of battle. They were dispersed, and they left behind heaps of dead and dying—one-half their strength resting on the scene of their daring. Three Generals, Margueritte, Girard and Tilliard, were killed, and Salignac-Fenelon was wounded.