This time the plan was to cross the little stream, push the Prussians out of Ligny, mount the hill behind and cut their line in two, and the battle would be gained. Each one of us understood that, but with such masses of troops as they held in reserve, it was no small affair. Everything moved toward the bridge, but we could see nothing but the five or six men before us, and I was well satisfied to know that the head of the column was far in front. But I was most delighted when Captain Florentin halted our company in front of an old barn with the door broken down, and posted the remnant of the battalion behind the ruins in order to sustain the attacking columns by firing from the windows. There were fifteen of us in that barn and I can see it now, with the door hanging by one hinge, and battered with the balls, and the ladder running up through a square hole, three or four dead Prussians leaning against the walls, and a window at the other end looking into the street in the rear. Zebede commanded our post, Lieutenant Bretonville occupied the house opposite with another squad, and Captain Florentin went somewhere else. The street was filled with troops quite up to the two corners near the brook. The first thing we tried to do was to put up the door and fasten it, but we had hardly commenced when we heard a terrible crash in the street, and walls, shutters, tiles, and everything were swept away at a stroke. Two of our men who were outside holding up the door, fell as if cut down with a scythe. At the same moment we could hear the steps of the retreating column rolling over the bridge, while a dozen more such explosions made us draw back in spite of ourselves. It was a battery of six pieces charged with canister which Bluecher had masked at the end of the street, and which now opened upon us. The whole column--drummers, soldiers, officers, mounted and foot, were in retreat, pushing and jostling each other, swept along as by a hurricane. Nobody looked back, those who fell were lost. The last ones had hardly passed our door when Zebede, who looked out to see what had happened, shouted in a voice of thunder, "The Prussians!" He fired, and several of us rushed for the ladder, but before we could think of climbing they were upon us. Zebede, Buche, and all who had not had time to get up the ladder drove them back with their bayonets. It seems to me as if I could see those Prussians still, with their big mustaches, their red faces and flat shakos, furious at being checked. I never had such a shock as that. Zebede shouted, "No quarter," just as if we had been the stronger. But immediately he received a blow on the head from the butt of a musket and fell. I saw that he was going to be murdered and I burned for revenge. I shouted, "To the bayonet," and we all fell upon the rascals, while our comrades fired at them from above, and a fusillade commenced from the houses opposite.