It was illumined by the moon two-thirds full, rolling among huge black clouds in which it was lost now and then.
It had the semblance of a battle field, covered with maimed and dead, amid which wandered like shades the men charged to throw the lifeless into the River Seine and load up the wounded to be transported to the Groscaillou Hospital.
The young man was dressed like a captain of the National Guards. He paused on the way over the Field, and muttered as he clasped his hands with unaffected terror:
"Lord help us, the matter is worse than they gave me to understand."
After looking for a while on the weird work in operation, he approached two men who were carrying a corpse towards the water, and asked:
"Citizens, do you mind telling me what you are going to do with that man?"
"Follow us, and you will know all about it," replied one.
He followed them. On reaching the wooden bridge, they swung the body between them as they counted: "One, two, three, and it's off!" and slung it into the tide.
The young officer uttered a cry of terror.