White Lies [144]
child, and how hard it was he must die and never see him. Then he lighted a candle, and sealed up his orders of valor, and wrote a line, begging that they might be sent to his sister. He also sealed up his purse, and left a memorandum that the contents should be given to disabled soldiers of his brigade upon their being invalided.
Then he took out Josephine's letter. "Poor coward," he said, "let me not be unkind. See, I burn your letter, lest it should be found, and disturb the peace you prize so highly. I, too, shall soon be at peace." He lighted the letter, and dropped it on the ground: it burned slowly away. He eyed it, despairingly. "Ay," said he, "you perish, last record of an unhappy love: and even so pass away my life; my hopes of glory, and my dreams of love; it all ends to-day: at nine and twenty."
He put his white handkerchief to his eyes. Josephine had given it him. He cried a little.
When he had done crying, he put his white handkerchief in his bosom, and the whole man was transformed beyond language to express. Powder does not change more when it catches fire. He rose that moment and went like a flash of lightning out of the tent. The next, he came down between the lines of the strong column that stood awaiting orders in Death's Alley.
"Attention!" cried the sergeants; "the colonel!"
There was a dead silence, for the bare sight of that erect and inspired figure made the men's bosoms thrill with the certainty of great deeds to come: the light of battle was in his eye. No longer the moody colonel, but a thunderbolt of war, red-hot, and waiting to be launched.
"Officers, sergeants, soldiers, a word with you!"
La Croix. Attention!
"Do you know what passed here five minutes ago?"
"The attack of the bastion was settled!" cried a captain.
"It was; and who was to lead the assault? do you know that?"
"No."
"A colonel FROM EGYPT."
At that there was a groan from the men.
"With detachments from the other brigades."
"AH!" an angry roar.
Colonel Dujardin walked quickly down between the two lines, looking with his fiery eye into the men's eyes on his right. Then he came back on the other side, and, as he went, he lighted those men's eyes with his own. It was a torch passing along a line of ready gas- lights.
"The work to us!" he cried in a voice like a clarion (it fired the hearts as his eye had fired the eyes)--"The triumph to strangers! Our fatigues and our losses have not gained the brigade the honor of going out at those fellows that have killed so many of our comrades."
A fierce groan broke from the men.
"What! shall the colors of another brigade and not ours fly from that bastion this afternoon?"
"No! no!" in a roar like thunder.
"Ah! you are of my mind. Attention! the attack is fixed for five o'clock. Suppose you and I were to carry the bastion ten minutes before the colonel from Egypt can bring his men upon the ground."
At this there was a fierce burst of joy and laughter; the strange laughter of veterans and born invincibles. Then a yell of exulting assent, accompanied by the thunder of impatient drums, and the rattle of fixing bayonets.
The colonel told off a party to the battery.
"Level the guns at the top tier. Fire at my signal, and keep firing over our heads, till you see our colors on the place."
He then darted to the head of the column, which instantly formed behind him in the centre of Death's Alley.
"The colors! No hand but mine shall hold them to-day."
They were instantly brought him: his left hand shook them free in the afternoon sun.
A deep murmur of joy rolled out from the old hands at the now unwonted sight. Out flashed the colonel's sword like steel lightning. He pointed to the battery.
Bang! bang! bang! bang! went his cannon, and the smoke rolled over the trenches. At the same moment up went the colors waving, and the colonel's clarion voice pealed high above all:--
"Twenty-fourth brigade--FORWARD!"
They went so swiftly out of the trenches that they were not seen through their own smoke
Then he took out Josephine's letter. "Poor coward," he said, "let me not be unkind. See, I burn your letter, lest it should be found, and disturb the peace you prize so highly. I, too, shall soon be at peace." He lighted the letter, and dropped it on the ground: it burned slowly away. He eyed it, despairingly. "Ay," said he, "you perish, last record of an unhappy love: and even so pass away my life; my hopes of glory, and my dreams of love; it all ends to-day: at nine and twenty."
He put his white handkerchief to his eyes. Josephine had given it him. He cried a little.
When he had done crying, he put his white handkerchief in his bosom, and the whole man was transformed beyond language to express. Powder does not change more when it catches fire. He rose that moment and went like a flash of lightning out of the tent. The next, he came down between the lines of the strong column that stood awaiting orders in Death's Alley.
"Attention!" cried the sergeants; "the colonel!"
There was a dead silence, for the bare sight of that erect and inspired figure made the men's bosoms thrill with the certainty of great deeds to come: the light of battle was in his eye. No longer the moody colonel, but a thunderbolt of war, red-hot, and waiting to be launched.
"Officers, sergeants, soldiers, a word with you!"
La Croix. Attention!
"Do you know what passed here five minutes ago?"
"The attack of the bastion was settled!" cried a captain.
"It was; and who was to lead the assault? do you know that?"
"No."
"A colonel FROM EGYPT."
At that there was a groan from the men.
"With detachments from the other brigades."
"AH!" an angry roar.
Colonel Dujardin walked quickly down between the two lines, looking with his fiery eye into the men's eyes on his right. Then he came back on the other side, and, as he went, he lighted those men's eyes with his own. It was a torch passing along a line of ready gas- lights.
"The work to us!" he cried in a voice like a clarion (it fired the hearts as his eye had fired the eyes)--"The triumph to strangers! Our fatigues and our losses have not gained the brigade the honor of going out at those fellows that have killed so many of our comrades."
A fierce groan broke from the men.
"What! shall the colors of another brigade and not ours fly from that bastion this afternoon?"
"No! no!" in a roar like thunder.
"Ah! you are of my mind. Attention! the attack is fixed for five o'clock. Suppose you and I were to carry the bastion ten minutes before the colonel from Egypt can bring his men upon the ground."
At this there was a fierce burst of joy and laughter; the strange laughter of veterans and born invincibles. Then a yell of exulting assent, accompanied by the thunder of impatient drums, and the rattle of fixing bayonets.
The colonel told off a party to the battery.
"Level the guns at the top tier. Fire at my signal, and keep firing over our heads, till you see our colors on the place."
He then darted to the head of the column, which instantly formed behind him in the centre of Death's Alley.
"The colors! No hand but mine shall hold them to-day."
They were instantly brought him: his left hand shook them free in the afternoon sun.
A deep murmur of joy rolled out from the old hands at the now unwonted sight. Out flashed the colonel's sword like steel lightning. He pointed to the battery.
Bang! bang! bang! bang! went his cannon, and the smoke rolled over the trenches. At the same moment up went the colors waving, and the colonel's clarion voice pealed high above all:--
"Twenty-fourth brigade--FORWARD!"
They went so swiftly out of the trenches that they were not seen through their own smoke