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He gazed silently at the hills which seemed to rise out of the

sea of mist and on which the Russian troops were moving in the

distance, and he listened to the sounds of firing in the valley.

Not a single muscle of his face-which in those days was still

thin-moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one spot.

His predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force

had already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes

and part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to

attack and regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the

mist that in a hollow between two hills near the village of

Pratzen, the Russian columns, their bayonets glittering, were

moving continuously in one direction toward the valley and

disappearing one after another into the mist.