Just as grey dawn stole in on the morning of the 4th of August, and when the French troops on the Geisberg were cooking their breakfasts and drinking their coffee quietly between their piles of arms, and looking from time to time into the beautiful pastoral valley, suddenly a storm of shells burst over them. The air seemed alive with fire and falling bombs, while, at the same moment, the whole town of Weissenburg, close by, burst into flames. Unseen by, and unknown to the French, the Crown Prince of Prussia had established a terrible battery of guns on the heights of Schweigen, a village on the other side of the river, and these guns were supported by a vast force, variously estimated from 50,000 to 100,000 men. On and about the Geisberg were only 10,000 French troops. The country on the Bavarian side of the Lauter is so thickly wooded, that the approach of the Crown Prince's army was quite concealed; not a bayonet flashed out from amid the foliage; not a standard was seen to waver; hence the men on the Geisberg suddenly found themselves confronted by a vast host that crossed the river at various points, the first to plunge in being the Thuringians, with stentorian shouts of 'Vorwarts! Vorwarts! Hoch Germania!' A young fähnrich (or ensign), a mere boy, carrying the King's colour, was shot through the head, and was being swept down the stream with the pole in his grasp, when Schönforst wrenched it away; and the standard, all bloody and dripping, was shouldered by another subaltern. Pierrepont could see nothing of what was being done at any other point than where his regiment crossed; but in a few minutes he found himself out of the water, and into clouds of smoke, through gaps in which, when made by the morning breeze, he could see the dusky columns of the enemy--the red-breeched Zouaves in their variegated Oriental costume, their necks bare, and their bearded faces dark and brown, and a corps of Voltigeurs in blue faced with white. Up the Geisberg went the Prussian troops, cheering, and with a rush--up so fast that the mounted officers were cantering their horses--and with a rush the hill was carried, after a short, sharp hand-to-hand conflict, though here the dark, savage Turcos fought with desperation and incredible bravery, charging many times with the bayonet, though their ranks were torn to pieces by grape-shot. General Douay, commanding the French, was here killed by a shell. His fate was a very melancholy one, and a noble instance of self-sacrifice. On seeing the battle hopelessly lost, he stood sadly apart on a little mound, watching the last desperate struggles of his fast-falling infantry. He then issued some final orders to the officers of his staff, and began to descend the slope of the mound alone. At its base he dismounted, and slaying his horse, as Roland did at the battle of Roncesvalles (but with a pistol), he drew his sword, and began to ascend the opposite slope of the Geisberg.