Thus, the two armies faced each other comparatively in the open.
A battle hung in the air.
The king's forces came to an abrupt halt.Orderlies dashed to and fro.The artillery came rumbling and creaking to the front, wheeled, the guns unlimbered and ranged so as to enfilade the road.The infantry deployed to right and left while the cavalry swung into position on the flanks.All this was accomplished with the equanimity of dress parade.Maurice could not control his admiration.Madame, he thought, might win her crown, but at a pretty cost.
The Marshal and the staff posted themselves on the right breast of the hill, from whence, by the aid of binoculars, they could see the enemy.From time to time General Kronau nervously smoothed his beard, formed his lips into words, but did not utter them, and glanced slyly from the corner of his eye at the Marshal, who was intent on the enemy's approach.Maurice was trying with naked eye to pierce the forest and the rolling ground beyond, and waiting for the roar of the guns.
Orders had been issued for the gunners to get the range and commence firing; but as the gunners seemed over long in getting down to work, Maurice gazed around impatiently.The blood rushed into his heart.For this is what he saw: the infantry leaning indolently on their guns, their officers snipping the grasses with their swords; the cuirassiers hidden in the bulk of the native cavalry; artillerymen seated carelessly on the caissons, and the gunners smoking and leaning against the guns.All action was gone, as if by magic; nothing but a strange tableau remained!
Moreover, a troop of native cavalry, which, for no apparent reason, had not joined the main body, had closed in on the general staff.Appalled by a sudden thought, Maurice touched the prince, who lowered his glasses and turned his head.
Bewilderment widened his eyes, and the flush on his cheeks died away.He, too, saw.
"Devil's name!" the Marshal burst forth, "why don't the blockheads shoot? The enemy--" He stopped, his chin fell, for, as he turned, a single glance explained all to him.The red on his face changed into a sickly purple, and the glasses slipped from his hands and broke into pieces on the stony ground.
"Marshal," began General Kronau, "I respect your age and valiant services.That is why we have come thirteen miles.You may keep your sword, and also Monsieur the prince.For the present you are prisoners."For a moment the Marshal was stupefied.His secret fears had been realized.Suddenly a hoarse oath issued from his lips, he dragged his saber from the scabbard, raised it and made a terrible sweep at the General.But the stroke fell on a dozen intervening blades, and the Marshal's arms were held and forced to his sides.
"Kronau...you?" he roared."Betrayed! You despicable coward and traitor! You--" But speech forsook him, and he would have fallen from the horse but for those who held his arms.
