The quiet chateau stood there in dark outline. Only two windows were still lighted up on the ground floor.
Suddenly a voice thundered:
“Forward! nom d'un nom! To the breach, my lads!”
And in an instant the doors, shutters and window panes fell in beneath a wave of men who rushed in, breaking, destroying everything, and took the house by storm. In a moment fifty soldiers, armed to the teeth, bounded into the kitchen, where Walter Schnaffs was peacefully sleeping, and placing to his breast fifty loaded rifles, they overturned him, rolled him on the floor, seized him and tied his head and feet together.
He gasped in amazement, too besotted to understand, perplexed, bruised and wild with fear.
Suddenly a big soldier, covered with gold lace, put his foot on his stomach, shouting:
“You are my prisoner. Surrender!”
The Prussian heard only the one word “prisoner” and he sighed, “Ya, ya, ya.”
He was raised from the floor, tied in a chair and examined with lively curiosity by his victors, who were blowing like whales. Several of them sat down, done up with excitement and fatigue.
He smiled, actually smiled, secure now that he was at last a prisoner.