As to ourselves, the witnesses of these chivalrous deeds, we looked on, with our fists clenched, with our teeth grinding, with tears of rage in our eyes ... and never uttered a word.
It was no use crying for help. Our very prayers seemed to rise to an unrelenting God, and we could but murmur:
"Father, Father, why hast Thou forsaken us?"
It was the reign of terror.
"Ah, Madam," said a woman all in tears, whose husband owned a merry-go-round, "they have just requisitioned our mechanical organ. Ah, Madam, such a beautiful 'music,' for which we had given four thousand francs—all our savings! They have taken it to amuse themselves. And how furious they were! When they are well spoken I don't mind it so much, but when they look so angry I tremble like a leaf."
It was the reign of terror.
"When I see them coming," another neighbour declared, "it makes my blood run cold."
M. Lonet himself acknowledged that he never saw Prussians enter his house without an inward thrill of fear.
"Whom will they harm to-day?" we thought. "People, animals, or things?"
It was the reign of terror.