The troops had disappeared, hidden by an undulation of the ground; but over yonder, on the side of the Nores plain, the insurgents soon perceived the bayonets shooting up, one after another, like a field of steel-eared corn under the rising sun.

At that moment Silvere, who was glowing with feverish agitation, fancied he could see the gendarme whose blood had stained his hands.

He knew, from the accounts of his companions, that Rengade was not dead, that he had only lost an eye; and he clearly distinguished the unlucky man with his empty socket bleeding horribly.

The keen recollection of this gendarme, to whom he had not given a thought since his departure from Plassans, proved unbearable.

He was afraid that fear might get the better of him, and he tightened his hold on his carbine, while a mist gathered before his eyes.