My men were collected there, lying with their eyes fixed on me, already half raised, ready to dart forward. As I looked at them and counted them over, a fantastic idea struck me. Fifty living men. In a minute, half of them would be dead, at a sign from me. Gloomily determined, I enjoyed my fatal power. Did I spare myself? No. I remained on my feet, and the bullets made a nimbus round me. Preserved by a constant miracle, I moved among these fiery trajectories like a salamander. And then, ruminating on a vague hope of living, I dreamt that a fate protected me; that death was overawed by my temerity. The hour struck in the depths of my consciousness. I included all my men, body and soul, in a comprehensive gesture to advance. Their undulating line moved as one man. Bouillon was just behind me. In getting up he seemed to stumble, and fell like a stone, with a bullet in his forehead. Then I began to run quickly, straight ahead. There was no longer any need to turn round. Behind me I could hear that breathing, and the heavy trot regulated by mine. We formed an inseparable block, they and I. If any fell, their places were filled up. Twenty yards away I saw phantoms scattering. "They're bolting!" My own voice seemed to swell in the deep-throated roars which it tore from my companions. Living, rolling thunder! The enemy overcome and swept away! Full of a prodigious reserve of breath, life, and pride I was going to-- A-a-h! CHAPTER XXII SERENITY I had fallen face downwards. I experienced a sensation of shattering and laceration. My eyes closed. I made a convulsive effort to get up. Impossible! But where was I wounded? My head was swimming, everything was turning round me. I was dying. "Your leg, isn't it?" I succeeded in opening my eyes again. Guillaumin! "Yes--I think so!" I stammered. "Hurts a bit, what?" I tried to lift up my head and spit some soil out. Everything grew dim again. I caught sight of a clown's face--Judsi, leaning over me, too. "Carry on! Carry on!" I murmured. They disappeared from my field of vision. I saw another line of men pass in skirmishing order, then another. Was my brain affected? Why did I think I was back in camp at Mailly and once more taking part in the parade before the Bey of Tunis? By some strange instinct, I dreaded being helped. I preferred to die in peace. For I thought my hour had come, and abandoned myself unregretfully. Meanwhile, some time passed. Instead of agonising, I recovered my wits. It was my right leg that had been hit--the bone to a certainty! For the moment, the pain was not so intolerable. I felt as if my leg had been substituted by a mass of lead. Ah! The sun! Already high in the heavens! I now began to wish for help, but the plateau was abandoned. Quite near me there was a dead body--poor Prunelle--fallen in the posture of an oriental suppliant. Farther on Gaufrèteau was drawing his last breath.