by and proves that the firing is not all ours! Now the infantry at a run, and the guns at a trot, pass into the cordon. You can hear the boom of the guns, the metallic sounds of flying grapeshot, the hissing of rockets and the crackle of muskets. Over the wide glade you can see on all sides cavalry, infantry, and artillery. Puffs of smoke mingle with the dew-covered verdure and the mist. Colonel Hasanov, approaching the General at full gallop, suddenly reins in his horse.
“Your excellency, shall we order the cavalry to charge?” he says, raising his hand to his cap; “the enemy’s colours are in sight,” and he points with his whip to some mounted Tartars, in front of whom ride two men on white horses, with bits of blue and red stuff fastened to poles in their hands.
“Go, and God be with you, Ivan Mikhaylovich!” says the General. The Colonel turns his horse sharply round, draws his sword, and shouts “Hurrah!”
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” comes from the ranks, and the cavalry gallop after him. …
Everyone looks on with interest: there is a pennon, another, a third and a fourth. …
The enemy, not waiting for the attack, hides in the wood and thence opens a small-arms fire. Bullets come flying more and more frequently. “ Quel charmant coup d’œil! ” says the General, slightly rising, English fashion, in his saddle on his slim-legged black horse.
“ Charmant! ” answered the Major, rolling his r ’s; and striking his horse, he rides up to the General: “ C’est un vrai plaisir, que la guerre dans un aussi beau pays ,” he says.
“ Et surtout en bonne compagnie ,” replies the General, with a pleasant smile. The Major bows.