In a few seconds everybody was at the post of duty; from bottom to
top the mill was occupied. Meanwhile the captain, who had gone out
upon the road, had discovered nothing; to the right and to the left the
highway stretched out, empty and white. A second shot was heard, and
still nothing visible, not even a shadow. But as he was returning the
captain perceived in the direction of Gagny, between two trees, a light
puff of smoke whirling away like thistledown. The wood was calm and
peaceful.
"The bandits have thrown themselves into the forest," he muttered. "They
know we are here."
Then the firing continued, growing more and more vigorous, between the
French soldiers posted around the mill and the Prussians hidden behind
the trees. The balls whistled above the Morelle without damaging either
side. The fusillade was irregular, the shots coming from every bush, and
still only the little puffs of smoke, tossed gently by the breeze, were
seen. This lasted nearly two hours. The officer hummed a tune with an
air of indifference. Francoise and Dominique, who had remained in the
courtyard, raised themselves on tiptoe and looked over a low wall. They
were particularly interested in a little soldier posted on the shore of
the Morelle, behind the remains of an old bateau; he stretched himself
out flat on the ground, watched, fired and then glided into a ditch a
trifle farther back to reload his gun; and his movements were so droll,
so tricky and so supple, that they smiled as they looked at him.
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