The morning was dull and gloomy, with a cold wind which drove
clouds of dust into the air. A little before twelve o'clock all the
French storming parties were crouching ready for the order.
Bosquet himself was in the sixth parallel; MacMahon, surrounded by his
staff, was standing in the front trench with his watch in his hand. No
one spoke in this group, in which the calm faces showed no sign of the
excitement visible in the zouaves on either side of them, who, though
silent, were trembling with impatience. Close at hand there was a
corporal holding a little tricolor. Two minutes before twelve o'clock
the word was passed in an undertone, "Ready," and as the hands indicated
it was twelve o'clock, on a command from MacMahon a shout arose of
"_Vive l'Empereur_!" bugles and drums sounded the charge, and the
zouaves dashed straight at the Malakoff.
MacMahon allowed two sections to pass him, and then, followed by his
staff, climbed over the parapet, following the advanced guard. It placed
one ladder, by which the General descended into the ditch, and was, it
is said, the first up the escarp of the work.
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