"The women, " Caillou rode his horse to Gudin's side. "I thought we agreed to abandon the women."

"I didn't agree, " Gudin said curtly.

Caillou snorted, then glared at the shivering women. They were the wives and girlfriends of Ochagavia's garrison and, between them, had almost as many children, some no more than babes in arms. "They're Spaniards! " he snapped.

"Not all of them, " Gudin said. "Some are French."

"But French or Spanish, they will slow us down, " Caillou insisted. "The essence of success, Gudin, is to march fast. Audacity! Speed! There lies safety. We cannot take women and children."

"If they stay, " Gudin said, "they will be killed."

'That's war, Gudin, that's war! " Caillou declared. "In war, the weak die."

"We are soldiers of France, " Gudin said stiffly, "and we do not leave women and children to die. They march with us."

Gudin knew that all of them, soldiers, women and children alike, might die because of that decision, but he could abandon these Spanish women who had found themselves French husbands and given birth to half-French babies. If they were left, the partisans would find them, they would be called traitors, they would be tortured and they would die. No, Gudin thought, he could not just leave them.

"And Maria is pregnant, " he added, nodding towards an ammunition cart on which a woman lay swathed in grey army blankets.

"I don't care if she's the Virgin Mary! " Caillou exploded. "We cannot afford to take women and children! " Caillou saw that his words were having no effect on the grey-haired Colonel Gudin, and the older man's stubbornness inflamed Caillou. "My God, Gudin, no wonder they call you a failure!»