Four o'clock was striking from one of the steeples of Sedan. The morning twilight was breaking, dim, undecided in the dun-coloured mist. It was impossible to see anything; she could no longer distinguish even the college buildings a few yards away. Where were they firing, good heavens? Her first thought was for her brother, Maurice, for the reports were so deadened by the fog that they seemed to her to come from the north, right over the town. Then, however, it appeared certain that the firing was in front of her, and she trembled for her husband. Yes, the firing was undoubtedly at Bazeilles. For a few moments, however, she felt reassured, for it seemed to her, every now and then, as though the reports were, after all, coming from her right. Perhaps they were fighting at Donchery, where the bridge, as she was aware, had not been blown up. And now the most frightful perplexity took possession of her—were they firing from Donchery or from Bazeilles? It was impossible for her to tell, there was such a continuous buzzing in her ears. At last her anguish of mind became so acute that she felt unable to remain waiting there any longer. She quivered with an unrestrainable desire to know the truth at once, and throwing a shawl over her shoulders she went out in search of information.

She hesitated for a moment as she reached the Rue des Voyards down below, for the town still seemed so black in the opaque fog that enveloped it. The morning twilight had not yet reached the damp pavement between the smoky old house-fronts. The only persons she perceived as she went along the Rue au Beurre were two drunken Turcos with a girl, inside a low tavern where a candle was flickering. She had to turn into the Rue Maqua to find some animation—soldiers whose shadows glided furtively along the footways: cowards, possibly, in search of a hiding place; together with a big cuirassier who had lost himself, and who knocked at each door he came to, searching for his captain; and there was also a stream of civilians, perspiring with fear at the idea that they had so long delayed their departure, and packing themselves closely in carts, to see if there were still time to get to Bouillon in Belgium, whither half of Sedan had been emigrating for two days past.

Henriette was instinctively bound for the Sub-Prefecture, where she felt certain she would gain some information; and, to avoid being accosted, the idea occurred to her of cutting through the side streets. But she was unable to pass along the Rue du Four and the Rue des Laboureurs: they were blocked with cannon, endless rows of guns, caissons, and ammunition waggons, which had been huddled together there the day before, and seemed to have been forgotten. There was not even a sentry mounting guard over them; and the sight of all that gloomy, unutilised artillery, slumbering in abandonment in the depths of those deserted by-ways, chilled Henriette's heart. She now had to retrace her steps by way of the Place du Collège towards the high street, where, outside the Hôtel de l'Europe, she saw some orderlies holding horses, and waiting for a party of field officers, whose voices resounded loudly in the brightly illuminated dining-room. People were still more plentiful on the Place du Rivage and the Place Turenne, where groups of anxious townsfolk, women and children, were mingled with scared, disbanded soldiers, going hither and thither; and she saw a general rush swearing out of the Golden Cross Hotel and gallop off in a rage at the risk of knocking everybody down. For a moment she seemed to think of entering the town-hall; however she ultimately turned into the Rue du Pont-de-Meuse to reach the Sub-Prefecture.

And never before in her eyes had Sedan presented such a tragic aspect as that which it now wore in the dim, dirty morning twilight, full of fog. The houses seemed to be dead; many of them were empty, abandoned a couple of days since; and others, where fear-fraught insomnia could be divined, remained hermetically closed. With all those streets still half deserted, peopled merely with anxious shadows, traversed by abrupt departures in the midst of all the laggard soldiers who had been roaming about since the previous day, it was a morning to make one fairly shiver. The light would gradually increase, and by-and-by the town would be crowded, submerged by the impending disaster; but as yet it was only half-past five, and so far one could barely hear the cannonade, its booming being deadened by the lofty black houses.

Henriette was acquainted with the daughter of the door-portress at the Sub-Prefecture. Rose was the girl's name; she was a pretty, delicate-looking, little blonde, and worked at Delaherche's factory. When Henriette stepped into the lodge the mother was not there, but Rose greeted her with her accustomed amiability. 'Oh, my dear lady, we can no longer keep on our legs,' said she; 'mother has had to go and lie down a little. Just fancy, what with all the comings and goings, we have had to remain on foot all night!'

And without waiting for any questions she rattled on and on, feverishly excited by the many extraordinary things that she had seen since the day before. 'The marshal has slept well,' she said. 'But that poor Emperor! No, you can't imagine how dreadfully he suffers! Last night I went up to help give out some linen, and just as I was passing through a room next to the dressing-room I heard some moaning—oh! such dreadful moaning, as though somebody was dying. It made me tremble all over; and it froze my heart when I learned it was the Emperor. It appears he has a dreadful illness which makes him cry out like that. He restrains himself when anybody's there, but as soon as he's alone it masters him, and he calls out and complains—it's enough to make your hair stand on end.'

'Do you know where they are fighting this morning?' interrupted Henriette.

Rose dismissed the question, however, with an impatient wave of the hand. 'So you understand,' said she, 'I wanted to know how he was, and I went up four or five times during the night and listened, with my ear to the partition—and each time that I went I heard him moaning and complaining, and he didn't cease, he didn't close his eyes for a moment all night long, I'm sure of it. How terrible, isn't it, to suffer like that with all the worry he has? For everything's in confusion, a regular scramble. They all seem to have lost their senses! The doors do nothing but bang, fresh people are always coming. Some of them fly in a rage, and others cry. The house is quite topsy-turvy; everything's being pillaged. I assure you I saw some officers drinking out of the bottles last night, and some of them even went to bed in their big boots. And after all it's the Emperor who's the best of the lot, and who takes up the least room in the little corner where he hides himself to moan.'

Then, as Henriette repeated her question, Rose replied: 'Where they are fighting? It's at Bazeilles—they've been fighting there since daybreak! A soldier on horseback came to tell the marshal, and he at once went to the Emperor to let him know. The marshal has already been gone some ten minutes or so, and I think the Emperor's going to join him, for they are dressing him upstairs. I was up there just now, and I caught sight of his valet combing and curling him, and doing all sorts of things to his face.'

Henriette, however, now had the information she desired, and therefore turned to go: 'Many thanks, Rose, I'm in a hurry,' she said; whereupon the young girl, complaisantly accompanying her as far as the street, replied: 'Oh, I'm quite at your service, Madame Weiss. I know that one can tell you everything.'