We came upon a square encumbered with beds and mattresses, bedding, etc., which the citizens had furnished for the troops. We stacked arms in front of the barracks, every window of which was open from top to bottom. We waited, thinking we should be lodged there, but at the end of twenty minutes the distribution commenced, and each man received twenty-five sous and a ticket for lodging. We broke rank, each one going his own way. Jean Buche, who had never seen any other town than Pfalzbourg, did not leave me for a moment. Our ticket was for Elias Meyer, butcher, in the rue St. Valery. When we reached the house the butcher was cutting meat in the arched and grated window, and was anything but pleased to see us, and received us very ungraciously. He was a fat, red, round-faced Jew, with silver rings on his fingers and in his ears. His thin, yellow-skinned wife came down exclaiming that they had "had lodgers for two nights before, that the mayor's secretary did it on purpose, that he sent soldiers every day, and that the neighbors did not have them," and so on.
But they allowed us to enter after all. The daughter came and stared at us, and behind her was a fat servant-woman, frizzled and very dirty. I seem to see those people before me still, in that old room with its oak wainscoting, and the great copper lamp hanging from the ceiling, and the grated window looking into the little court. The daughter, who was very pale and had very black eyes, said something to her mother and then the servant was ordered to show us to the garret, to the beggars' chamber, for all the Jews feed and shelter beggars on Friday. My comrade from Harberg did not complain, but I was indignant. We followed the servant up a winding stair slippery with filth, to the room. It was separated from the rest of the garret by slats, through which we could see the dirty linen. It was lighted by a little window like a lozenge in the roof. Even if I had not been so miserable I should have thought it abominable. There was only one chair and a straw mattress on the floor and one single coverlet for us both. The servant stood staring at us at the door, as if she expected thanks or compliments. I took off my knapsack, sad enough as you can imagine, and Jean Buche did the same. The servant turned to go downstairs when I cried out: "Wait a minute, we will go down too, we do not want to break our necks on those stairs." We changed our shoes and stockings and fastened the door and went down to the shop to buy some meat. Jean went to the baker opposite for some bread, and as our ticket gave us a place at the fire we went to the kitchen to make our soup. The butcher came to see us just as we were finishing our supper. He was smoking a big Ulm pipe. He asked where we were from. I was so indignant I would not answer him, but Jean Buche told him that I was a watch-maker from Pfalzbourg, upon which he treated me with more consideration. He said that his brother travelled in Alsace and Lorraine, with watches, rings, watch-chains, and other articles of silver and gold, and jewelry, and that his name was Samuel Meyer, and perhaps we had had business with him. I replied that I had seen his brother two or three times at Mr. Goulden's, which was true. Thereupon he ordered the servant to bring us a pillow, but he did nothing more for us and we went to bed.
We were very weary and were soon sound asleep. I thought to get up very early and go to the arsenal, but I was still asleep when my comrade shook me and said: "The assembly!"
I listened—it was the assembly! We only had time to dress, buckle on our knapsacks, take our guns, and run down. When we reached the barracks the roll-call had begun. When it was finished two wagons came up, and we received fifty ball-cartridges each. The Commandant Gémeau, the captains, and all the officers were there. I saw that all was over, that I had nothing to count on longer, and that my letter to Colonel Desmichels might be good after the campaign was over, if I escaped and should be obliged to serve out my seven years. Zébédé looked at me from a distance—I turned away my head. The order came:
"Carry arms! arms at will! by file! left! forward! march!"
The drums rolled, we marked step, and the roofs, the houses, the windows, the lanes, and the people seemed to glide past us. We crossed over the first bridge and the drawbridge. The drums ceased to beat and we went on toward Thionville. The other troops followed the same route, cavalry and infantry.
That night we reached the village of Beauregard, the next night we were at Vitry, near Thionville, where we were stationed till the 8th of June. Buche and I were lodged with a fat landlord named Pochon. He was a very good man and gave us excellent white wine to drink, and liked to talk politics like Mr. Goulden. During our stay in this village General Schoeffer came from Thionville, and we went to be reviewed with our arms at a large farm called "Silvange."
It is a woody country, and we often went, several of us together, to make excursions in the vicinity. One day Zébédé came and took me to see the great foundry at Moyeuvre where we saw then run bullets and bombs. We talked about Catherine and Mr. Goulden, and he told me to write to them, but somehow I was afraid to hear from home, and I turned my thoughts away from Pfalzbourg.
On the 8th of June we left this village very early in the morning, returning near to Metz but without entering the city. The city gates were shut and the cannon frowned on the walls as in time of war. We slept at Chatel, and the next day we were at Etain, the day following at Dannevoux, where I was lodged with a good patriot named Sebastian Perrin. He was a rich man, and wanted to know the details of everything.
As a great number of battalions had followed the same route before us, he said, "In a month perhaps we shall see great things, all the troops are marching into Belgium. The Emperor is going to fall upon the English and Prussians."