Blucher still stood with his Prussians on the heights of Krockwitz,
his face radiant with enthusiasm, his eye flashing with courage; but
a warning adviser stood by his side.
"General," whispered Muffling, "we are lost if we remain here
longer. We must retreat."
"Retreat!" cried Blucher, in an angry voice, and a clap of thunder
burst at that moment.
Muffling pointed silently down into the plain, and over to the
Windmill-knoll. "Look yonder! Napoleon is advancing directly upon
our front, the Windmill-knoll is evacuated, Barclay has gone, and
the Russians are routed!"
"But we still stand," cried Blucher, triumphantly, "and we shall
stand in spite of Napoleon and the devil! And, then, we are not
without support. The Russian artillery attached to our corps is
thundering against the enemy, and York and Kleist are covering our
left wing."
"But, general, listen! The Russian artillery is firing less rapidly;
General Kleist is no longer able to cover our left wing, for the
sovereigns have sent him to Bairuth to cover Barclay's flank; and as
for York, he was unable to prevent the enemy from placing a battery
near Basantwitz. I saw it when I rode hither. We are, therefore, in
a triple cross-fire." And, as though the enemy intended to confirm
these warning words, the cannon flashed from three sides, and hurled
their balls into the ranks of the Prussians.
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