The next day--the 27th of August--after ten hours of sleep, Volodia came
out of the bomb-proof fresh and well. Vlang followed him, but at the
first hissing of a cannon-ball he bounded back and threw himself through
the narrow opening, knocking his head as he went, to the general laugh
of the soldiers, all of whom, with the exception of Vlang, of the old
artificer, and two or three others who rarely showed themselves in the
trenches, had slipped outside to breathe the fresh morning air. In spite
of the violence of the bombardment, they could not be prevented from
remaining there, some near the entrance, others sheltered by the
parapet. As to Melnikoff, he had been going and coming between the
batteries since daybreak, looking in the air with indifference.
On the very threshold of the quarters were seated three soldiers, two
old and one young one. The latter, a curly-headed Jewish infantryman
attached to the battery, picked up a bullet which rolled at his feet,
and flattening it against a stone with a piece of a shell, he cut out of
it a cross on the model of that of Saint George, while the others
chatted, watching his work with interest, for he succeeded well with
it.
“I say that if we stay here some time yet, when peace comes we shall be
retired.”
“Sure enough. I have only four years more to serve, and I have been here
six months!”
“That doesn’t count for retirement,” said another, at the moment when a
cannon-ball whizzing over the group struck the earth a yard away from
Melnikoff, who was coming towards them in the trench.
“It almost killed Melnikoff!” cried a soldier.
“It won’t kill me,” replied the former.
“Here, take this cross for your bravery,” said the young Jewish soldier,
finishing the cross and giving it to him.
“No, brother, here the months count for years without exception. There
was an order about it,” continued the talker.
“Whatever happens, there will surely be, on the conclusion of peace, a
review by the Emperor at Warsaw, and if we are not retired we shall have
an unlimited furlough.”
Just at this instant a small cannon-ball passing over their heads with a
ricochet, seemed to moan and whistle together and fell on a stone.
“Attention!” said one of the soldiers. “Perhaps between now and night
you will get your definite furlough!”
Everybody began to laugh. Two hours had not passed, evening had not yet
come, before two of them had, in effect, received their “definite
furlough,” and five had been wounded, but the rest continued to joke as
before.
In the morning the two mortars had been put in order, and Volodia
received at ten o’clock the order from the commander of the bastion to
assemble his men and go with them upon the battery. Once at work, there
remained no trace of that terror which the evening before showed itself
so plainly. Vlang alone did not succeed in overcoming it; he hid
himself, and bent down every instant. Vassina had also lost his
coolness, he was excited and _saluted_. As to Volodia, stirred by an
enthusiastic satisfaction, he thought no more of the danger. The joy he
felt at doing his duty well, at being no longer a coward, at feeling
himself, on the contrary, full of courage, the feeling of commanding and
the presence of twenty men, who he knew were watching him with
curiosity, had made a real hero of him. Being even a little vain of his
bravery, he got up on the _banquette_, unbuttoning his coat so as to be
well observed. The commander of the bastion, in going his rounds,
although he had been accustomed during eight months to courage in all
its forms, could not help admiring this fine-looking boy with animated
face and eyes, his unbuttoned coat exposing a red shirt, which confined
a white and delicate neck, clapping his hands, and crying in a voice of
command, “First! second!” and jumping gayly on the rampart to see where
his shell had fallen. At half-past eleven the firing stopped on both
sides, and at noon precisely began the assault on the Malakoff mamelon,
as well as upon the second, third, and fifth bastions.