twenty thousand men, if _we_ had had guns, and leaders with a little
pluck!"

Loud and angry were the denunciations of Coutard and Picot in their
ragged, dusty uniforms as they cut themselves huge slices of bread and
bolted bits of cheese, evoking their bitter memories there in the shade
of the pretty trellis, where the sun played hide and seek among the
purple and gold of the clusters of ripening grapes. They had come now to
the horrible flight that succeeded the defeat; the broken, demoralized,
famishing regiments flying through the fields, the highroads blocked
with men, horses, wagons, guns, in inextricable confusion; all the wreck
and ruin of a beaten army that pressed on, on, on, with the chill breath
of panic on their backs. As they had not had wit enough to fall back
while there was time and take post among the passes of the Vosges,
where ten thousand men would have sufficed to hold in check a hundred
thousand, they should at least have blown up the bridges and destroyed
the tunnels; but the generals had lost their heads, and both sides were
so dazed, each was so ignorant of the other's movements, that for a
time each of them was feeling to ascertain the position of its opponent,
MacMahon hurrying off toward Luneville, while the Crown Prince of
Prussia was looking for him in the direction of the Vosges. On the 7th
the remnant of the 1st corps passed through Saverne, like a swollen
stream that carries away upon its muddy bosom all with which it comes in
contact. On the 8th, at Sarrebourg, the 5th corps came tumbling in upon
the 1st, like one mad mountain torrent pouring its waters into another.
The 5th was also flying, defeated without having fought a battle,
sweeping away with it its commander, poor General de Failly, almost
crazy with the thought that to his inactivity was imputed the
responsibility of the defeat, when the fault all rested in the Marshal's
having failed to send him orders. The mad flight continued on the 9th
and 10th, a stampede in which no one turned to look behind him. On the
11th, in order to turn Nancy, which a mistaken rumor had reported to
be occupied by the enemy, they made their way in a pouring rainstorm to
Bayon; the 12th they camped at Haroue, the 13th at Vicherey, and on the
14th were at Neufchateau, where at last they struck the railroad, and
for three days the work went on of loading the weary men into the cars
that were to take them to Chalons. Twenty-four hours after the last
tr