The Charterhouse of Parma by Stendhal

it so you don’t get shot by our fellows.”
    Fabrizio ran off and quickly returned with a musket and pouch.
    “Load your gun and get behind that tree, and be sure not to fire until I give orders.… God in Heaven!” the corporal broke off. “He doesn’t even know how to load his gun …!” He helped Fabrizio do this while giving further directions. “If an enemy hussar gallops toward you with his saber up, duck behind your tree, and don’t fire until he’s on top of you—three steps off. Your bayonet should be almosttouching his uniform. And throw away that heavy saber,” the corporal shouted, “you want it to trip you up, for God’s sake …! A fine lot of soldiers they’re sending us these days!” And with these words he grabbed Fabrizio’s saber and flung it angrily as far as he could. “All right, you, wipe your musket-flint with your handkerchief. Haven’t you ever fired a gun?”

    “I’ve done some hunting.”
    “God be praised!” the corporal answered with a sigh. “Be sure not to fire before I order you to.” And he walked away.
    Fabrizio was ecstatic. “At last I’ll really be fighting,” he said to himself, “killing an enemy! This morning we were under fire, and the only thing that happened was that I nearly got myself killed.… A fool’s game!”
    He looked all around him with great curiosity. In a moment he heard seven or eight shots fired quite close by. But receiving no orders to fire, he stood perfectly still behind his tree. It was nearly dark; he felt as if he were a lookout on a bear-hunt in the mountains of Tramezzina, above Grianta. A hunter’s notion occurred to him, and he took a cartridge out of his pouch and removed the bullet. “If I see him,” he realized, “I mustn’t miss,” and he slid a second bullet into his musket barrel. He heard two shots fired right next to his tree; at the same moment he saw a cavalryman in a blue uniform galloping in front of him, heading to his left. “He’s more than three paces away,” Fabrizio calculated, “but at this range I can’t miss.” He followed the horseman in his gun-sight and finally squeezed the trigger. The man fell with his horse. Our hero imagined he was out hunting and ran delightedly toward the game he had just bagged. He was already touching the apparently dying man when with incredible speed two Prussian cavalrymen galloped toward him, sabers raised to cut him down. Fabrizio ran toward the woods as fast as he could; to gain speed he threw away his musket. The Prussians were no more than three paces away when he reached another grove of oak saplings about as big around as his arm, at the edge of the woods. These stiff little trees halted the horsemen a moment, but they soon squeezed through and chased Fabrizio into a clearing. Once again they were almost upon him when he managed to slip behind seven or eight big trees. At this instanthis face was almost scorched by the explosion of five or six shots fired from in front of him. He lowered his head; when he looked up again, he was facing Corporal Aubry.
    “Did you kill your man?”
    “Yes, but I lost my musket.”
    “We’re not short of muskets. You’re a good bugger, green as you look. You did well—these men here missed the two who were after you and coming straight for them. I didn’t see them myself. Now we’ve got to get out of here; the regiment must be just over there, but first there’s a field to cross where we can still be surrounded.”
    With these words the corporal marched ahead of his ten men. Two hundred yards on, entering the little field he had mentioned, they came upon a wounded general being carried by his aide-de-camp and an orderly.
    “Give me four men,” he said to the corporal in a faint voice, “I need to be taken to the ambulance—my leg’s been shattered.”
    “Go fuck yourself,” the corporal answered, “you and the other generals. You’ve all betrayed the Emperor today.”
    “What!” cried the general in a rage.