Manasseh looked up at the clouded heavens above, and breathed a sigh. The hour had come when he must bow before the iron will of destiny. He, the apostle of peace, must plunge into the midst of bloody strife. "Thy will be done!" he murmured, then advanced to the front of the battalion, and turned to address his comrades.
They obeyed him with alacrity, singing as they advanced, "A mighty fortress is our God," and so began the assault.
Not a shot was fired as they pushed forward at double-quick in the face of a murderous artillery discharge from the terrace above. Gaining the foot of the scarp, they planted their bayonets in the earthern wall, and so mounted the rampart, those behind helping up those in front. As they sang the last stanza of their hymn, the _Madonna della Scoperta_ was taken--without the firing of a single shot. The major of the battalion was beside himself with pride and exultation. He embraced Manasseh, and kissed him on both cheeks.
"To-morrow will see you an officer with a medal of honour on your breast," was his confident prediction.
Manasseh smiled sadly. He knew better than the other what to expect.
Meanwhile the enemy had not given up the fight. The terrace, they perceived, must be retaken, and a detachment of French troops was advancing to storm it.
"Let them come on!" cried the major, confidently. "We can handle them, ten to one. Give them a volley, my lads!"
But this time Manasseh shook his head, whereupon the whole battalion grounded arms.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed the major, astounded.
Manasseh raised his hand to heaven. "_Egy az Isten!_" he cried, and all his comrades followed his example.
"What do you say?" asked the bewildered officer.
"We swear by the God who has said 'Thou shalt not kill!'" was Manasseh's reply.
"But you are soldiers, and on the battle-field."
"We do our duty, we go whither we are ordered, and we can die if we must; but we will not take human life except in defence of our homes and our fatherland."
The commander threatened, begged, wept--all in vain. The only reply was, "_Egy az Isten!_" The men were willing to discharge their pieces if necessary, but it would only be a waste of ammunition: they would fire into the air.
Troops were now rapidly moving on the threatened position from two directions, one party to assault, the other to defend. Fearful slaughter seemed imminent, and nothing was left for those who had so gallantly carried the terrace but to die where they stood. Suddenly, however, a third power took a hand in the fray, and smote both assailants and defenders with equal fury. The black clouds that had been gathering over the battle-field opened and began such a cannonade as neither side could withstand. Wind, hail, lightning, and thunder, accompanied by an ominous darkness in which friend was indistinguishable from foe, played such havoc with the puny combatants and their mimic artillery, that all were forced to seek shelter and safety from the angry elements. Thus neither side was left in possession of the field, but a third and a mightier power than either claimed the victory in that day's fight.