Looking northward he saw a tiny cloud drifting across the stars. It was the smoke from the cannon which had been discharged. In that direction a ridge broke the flatness of the fields, that were buried under a sheet of ice. He muttered to himself:-- "They are there, on the escarpment. They will put a few shells into the village and turn us out, and we must retreat--as usual. I do not care if I can withdraw them from Orgemont." His eyes grew tender; he was thinking of Rachel. "Are they here--these Germans?" asked a fearful voice at his elbow. Mansart also had quitted the house. That note of war, which was the first he had ever heard, had terrified him. "You may be sure of it," said the other, laughing. "And it is to be hoped that you have some good things in your larder, for if these Prussians visit you you will find that they have the stomachs of wolves." A bugle sounded. "They will be expecting me," murmured La Hire. It was frightfully cold. The air, like the earth, seemed frozen, biting the lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The swaying branches of the trees in the garden appeared to be trying to obtain a little warmth by the exercise. The final crescent of the moon had risen, and her pale gleam upon the fields seemed to have become petrified also with the cold, and permanent. La Hire had no sooner made up his mind to move than a red flame glowed on the summit of the escarpment, and passed. It was quickly followed by a second heavy thud--the report of a six-pounder field-gun. A bright light appeared upon the sky, moving swiftly. Something uttered a wail; something rushed amongst the acacia trees in the garden, flinging down branches and tearing up earth. There was a splitting report, sheeted flame, a terrible cry. The night closed down as before, scarcely disturbed by that burst of passion. La Hire relaxed his grip of the garden soil. He lifted his face, which was covered with earth. "_Ciel!_ I thought I was done for," he muttered. He rose from the prostrate position into which he had flung himself, and looked around with eyes that were still dazed by the explosion. "Simon--Simon Mansart! Are you still alive?" he called. A loud burst of derisive laughter came from one of the lower windows of the house. "Go! The Prussians are waiting for you!" cried Mansart. La Hire shrugged his shoulders, then stepped briskly from the garden to where an orderly waited with his horse. And as he rode away he felt his love swell and rise in his heart, and a mad longing to see Rachel once more gripped him; to feel on his lips the soft touch of her lips, and round his neck the clinging fingers once clasped there. And this wave of passion that ran through his veins seemed to unstring his nerves, weaken his purpose, and cast a mist of love over his courage. He found Vétérin waiting impatiently for his appearance; and he led his men southward, tempting the Prussians and drawing them from the village. II.