No orders came, nothing occurred to relieve their suspense. Maurice’s knapsack was causing him horrible suffering; it seemed to be crushing his back and chest in that recumbent position, so painful when maintained for any length of time. The men had been cautioned against throwing away their sacks unless in case of actual necessity, and he kept turning over, first on his right side, then on the left, to ease himself a moment of his burden by resting it on the ground. The shells continued to fall around them, but the German gunners did not succeed in getting the exact range; no one was killed after the poor fellow who lay there on his stomach with his skull fractured. “Say, is this thing to last all day?” Maurice finally asked Jean, in sheer desperation. “Like enough. At Solferino they put us in a field of carrots, and there we stayed five mortal hours with our noses to the ground.” Then he added, like the sensible fellow he was: “Why do you grumble? we are not so badly off here. You will have an opportunity to distinguish yourself before the day is over. Let everyone have his chance, don’t you see; if we should all be killed at the beginning there would be none left for the end.” “Look,” Maurice abruptly broke in, “look at that smoke over Hattoy. They have taken Hattoy; we shall have plenty of music to dance to now!” For a moment his burning curiosity, which he was conscious was now for the first time beginning to be dashed with personal fear, had sufficient to occupy it; his gaze was riveted on the rounded summit of the _mamelon_, the only elevation that was within his range of vision, dominating the broad expanse of plain that lay level with his eye. Hattoy was too far distant to permit him to distinguish the gunners of the batteries that the Prussians had posted there; he could see nothing at all, in fact, save the smoke that at each discharge rose above a thin belt of woods that served to mask the guns. The enemy’s occupation of the position, of which General Douay had been forced to abandon the defense, was, as Maurice had instinctively felt, an event of the gravest importance and destined to result in the most disastrous consequences; its possessors would have entire command of all the surrounding plateau. This was quickly seen to be the case, for the batteries that opened on the second division of the 7th corps did fearful execution. They had now perfected their range, and the French battery, near which Beaudoin’s company was stationed, had two men killed in quick succession. A quartermaster’s man in the company had his left heel carried away by a splinter and began to howl most dismally, as if visited by a sudden attack of madness. “Shut up, you great calf!” said Rochas. “What do you mean by yelling like that for a little scratch!” The man suddenly ceased his outcries and subsided into a stupid silence, nursing his foot in his hand.