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The hoary, bearded bison trembled in his mossy lair and bristled

up his long shaggy mane; he half rose, resting on his forelegs,

and, shaking his beard, he gazed in amazement at the sparks

suddenly glittering amid the brushwood: this was a stray

bombshell that twirled and whirled and hissed, and at last broke

with a roar like thunder; the bison for the first time in his

life was terrified and fled to take refuge in deeper hiding.

"A battle! Where? In what direction?" asked the young men, as

they seized their arms; the women raised their hands in prayer to

Heaven. All, sure of victory, cried out with tears in their eyes:

"God is with Napoleon and Napoleon is with us!"