'Well, let's get off. I'll show you the way,' said Weiss, 'I learned just now where the 106th is encamped.' And then he informed his wife that he should not return that night, as he proposed sleeping at Bazeilles, where he had lately purchased a small house, adjoining some dyeworks belonging to M. Delaherche. He had just finished furnishing the place, with the intention of spending the remainder of the summer there, and had already stored various provisions in the cellar, a cask of wine, a couple of sacks of potatoes and other things, concerning which he now expressed anxiety. It was, indeed, certain that the house would be pillaged by marauders if it remained unoccupied, but this he would probably be able to avert by staying there that night. His wife looked at him fixedly whilst he was thus speaking. 'Oh! don't be alarmed,' he added, with a smile, 'I merely want to mount guard over our few sticks, and if the village should be attacked, if there should be the slightest danger, I'll come back at once, I promise you.'
'Go then,' she said; 'but mind you come back, or I shall certainly fetch you.'
On reaching the door she kissed Maurice tenderly, and holding out her hand to Jean pressed his for a few seconds in a friendly way. 'I'm confiding my brother to you again,' she said. 'Yes, he has told me how kind you have been to him, and I like you very much.'
Jean felt so disturbed that he could find no words to answer her, but contented himself with returning the pressure of her small firm hand. And again did he experience the same impression as on his arrival—this fair-haired Henriette, so lightsome, smiling, and unobtrusive, seemed as it were to impart a caress to the atmosphere around her.
Down below they found themselves once more in Sedan, as dank and dark as in the morning. The twilight was already obscuring the narrow streets, where all was bustle and confusion. Most of the shops were closed, and the houses seemed bereft of life, but out of doors there was a perfect crush. They reached the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville, however, without any very great difficulty, and there they encountered M. Delaherche, strolling about like the sightseer he was. He appeared delighted on recognising Maurice, and at once related that he had just been conducting Captain Beaudoin towards Floing, where the regiment was encamped. And his accustomed satisfaction increased when he learnt that Weiss intended to sleep at Bazeilles, for he himself had resolved to spend the night at his dyeworks there, as, indeed, he had just been telling the captain. 'We'll go together, Weiss,' said he. 'But meantime let's stroll just as far as the Sub-Prefecture; perhaps we shall get a glimpse of the Emperor.'
Napoleon III. was his one preoccupation since he had so narrowly missed speaking to him at Baybel, and he talked in such a strain that he ended by rousing the curiosity of the two soldiers, who decided to follow him. Only a few whispering groups were assembled on the Place de la Sous-Préfecture, but from time to time some scared officers dashed by. The mournful dimness was already darkening the trees, and one could hear the loud noise made by the Meuse as it flowed along at the foot of the houses on the right hand. Some of the assembled people were relating that the Emperor—who had only been induced with difficulty to leave Carignan at eleven o'clock the previous night—had positively refused to push on to Mézières, as he wished to remain on the scene of danger, so as not to demoralise the troops. Others asserted, however, that he was no longer at Sedan, that he had fled, leaving one of his lieutenants behind to personate him—an officer who had donned his uniform, and who was so remarkably like him that the entire army was deceived. Others, again, gave their word of honour that they had seen several vehicles, containing the imperial treasure (a hundred millions of francs in brand-new gold napoleons), drive into the grounds of the Sub-Prefecture. But the vehicles in question were simply those of the Emperor's household, the char-à-bancs, the two calashes, and the twelve vans, the sight of which had so revolutionised the villages, Courcelles, Le Chêne and Raucourt, and the number of which rumour had so exaggerated that in the popular imagination they had become an immense train, obstructing the roads to such a degree that they arrested the progress of the entire army. And now, accursed and shameful, they, had at last stranded at Sedan, hidden from all eyes by the Sub-Prefect's lilac bushes.
Whilst Delaherche, rising on tip-toe, was examining the ground-floor windows of the Sub-Prefect's abode, an old woman—who stood near him—some poor journey-woman of the neighbourhood, with a bent frame and distorted hands consumed by toil, mumbled between her teeth: 'An Emperor, well, I should like to get a squint at one, just to see what he's like.'
At that very moment Delaherche, catching hold of Maurice's arm, exclaimed: 'There—that's him—there, look, at the window on the left. Oh! there's no mistake about it. I recognise him perfectly; I was so near him yesterday, you know. He has pulled back the curtain—yes—there—that pale face against the window-pane.'
The old woman heard these words, and stood there gazing. Close to the window-pane, as Delaherche had said, she could see a cadaverous-looking face with dim eyes, distorted features, and moustaches which seemed to have blanched in the throes of this last, long agony. Quite stupefied, the old woman immediately turned round and went off, making a gesture of superlative contempt: 'That an Emperor? Ugh, the ugly beast!'
A Zouave stood near by, one of those disbanded soldiers who evinced no haste to join their regiments. He was brandishing his chassepot, swearing and expectorating threats, and all at once he exclaimed to a comrade: 'Wait a second, I'll put a bullet into his head.'