“Are you the second battalion of the regiment from M----?” asked
Praskoukine of a soldier who was carrying sand-bags.
“Yes.”
“Where is the commander?”
Mikhaïloff, supposing that the captain of the company was wanted, came
out of his pit, raised his hand to his cap, and approached Praskoukine,
whom he took for a commanding officer.
“The general orders you--you must--you must retire at once--without any
noise--to the rear; that is, to the reserve force,” said Praskoukine,
stealthily looking in the direction of the enemy’s fire.
Having recognized his comrade, and having gained an idea of the
manœuvre, Mikhaïloff dropped his hand and gave the order to the
soldiers. They took their muskets, put on their coats, and marched off.
He who has never felt it cannot appreciate the joy which a man
experiences at leaving, after three hours of bombardment, a place as
dangerous as the quarters were. During these three hours Mikhaïloff,
who, not without reason, was thinking of death as an inevitable thing,
had the time to get accustomed to the notion that he would surely be
killed, and that he no longer belonged to the living world. In spite of
that, it was by a violent effort that he kept from running when he came
out of the quarters at the head of his company, side by side with
Praskoukine.
“_Au revoir! bon voyage!_” shouted the major who commanded the battalion
left in the quarters. Mikhaïloff had shared his cheese with him, both of
them seated in a pit in shelter of the parapet.
“The same to you; good-luck! It seems to me it is getting quieter.”
But scarcely had he uttered these words than the enemy, who had
doubtless noticed the movement, began to fire his best; our side
replied, and the cannonade began again with violence. The stars were
shining, but with little light, for the night was dark. The shots and
the shell explosions alone lighted for an instant the surrounding
objects. The soldiers marched rapidly and in silence, some hurrying past
the others: only the regular sound of their steps could be heard on the
hardened earth, accompanied by the incessant roar of the cannonade, the
click of bayonets striking one another, the sigh or the prayer of a
soldier: “Lord! Lord!”
Occasionally a wounded man groaned, and a stretcher was called for. In
the company which Mikhaïloff commanded, the artillery fire had disabled
twenty-six men since the day before.
A flash illuminated the distant darkness of the horizon; the sentinel on
the bastion cried, “Can--non!” and a ball, whistling over the company,
buried itself in the ground, which it ploughed up, sending the stones
flying about.
“The devil take them! How slowly they march!” thought Praskoukine, who,
following Mikhaïloff, was looking behind him at every step. “I could
run ahead, since I have delivered the order--Indeed, no! they would say
I was a coward! Whatever happens I will march along with them.”
“Why is he following me?” said Mikhaïloff, on his side. “I always
noticed he brings bad luck. There comes another, straight towards us,
seems to me.”
A few hundred steps farther on they met Kalouguine on his way to the
quarters, bravely rattling his sword. The general had sent him to ask
how the work went on, but at the sight of Mikhaïloff he said to himself
that, instead of exposing himself to this terrible fire, he could just
as well find out by asking the officer who came from there. Mikhaïloff
gave him, in fact, all the details. Kalouguine accompanied him to the
end of the path, and re-entered the trench which led to the bomb-proof.
“What’s the news?” asked the officer, who was supping alone in the
earthwork.
“Nothing. I don’t believe there will be any more fighting.”
“How! no more fighting? On the contrary, the general has just gone up to
the bastion. A new regiment has arrived. Besides--listen!--the
fusillade is beginning again. Don’t go. What’s the use of it?” added the
officer, as Kalouguine made a movement.
“Nevertheless, I ought to go,” said the latter to himself. “However,
haven’t I been exposed to danger long enough to-day? The fusillade is
terrible.”
“It is true,” he continued aloud, “I had better wait here.”
Twenty minutes later the general came back, accompanied by his officers,
among whom was the yunker, Baron Pesth, but Praskoukine was not with
them. Our troops had retaken and reoccupied the quarters. After having
heard the details of the affair, Kalouguine went out of the shelter with
Pesth.