The interior of this old structure, with its lofts full of hay and straw, and its stables covered with thatch, looked like a bloody nest which had been attacked by a sparrow-hawk.
On a great dung-heap in the middle of the court, our men were bayoneting the Germans who were yelling and swearing savagely.
I was running hap-hazard through this butchery, when I heard some one call, "Joseph, Joseph!" I looked round, thinking, "That is Buche calling me." In a moment I saw him at the door of a woodshed, crossing bayonets with five or six of our men.
I caught sight of Zébédé at that same instant, as our company was in that corner, and rushing to Buche's assistance, I shouted, "Zébédé!" Parting the combatants, I asked Buche what was the matter.
"They want to murder my prisoners!" said he. I joined him, and the others began to load their muskets to shoot us. They were voltigeurs from another battalion.
At that moment Zébédé came up with several men from our company, and without knowing how the matter stood, he seized the most brutal one by the throat and exclaimed, "My name is Zébédé, sergeant of the Sixth light infantry. When this affair is settled, we will have a mutual explanation."
Then they went away, and Zébédé asked:
"What is all this, Joseph?"
I told him we had some prisoners. He turned pale with anger against us, but when he went into the wood-shed he saw an old major, who presented him the guard of his sabre in silence, and another soldier, who said in German, "Spare my life, Frenchman; don't take my life."
The cries of the dying still filled the court, and his heart relenting, Zébédé said, "Very well, I take you prisoners."