llage, where she had witnessed the
passage of all the German artillery after nightfall. The column was
accompanied on either side of the road by a file of soldiers bearing
torches of pitch-pine, which illuminated the scene with the red glare
of a great conflagration, and between the flaring, smoking lights the
impetuous torrent of horses, guns, and men tore onward at a mad gallop.
Their feet were winged with the tireless speed of victory as they rushed
on in devilish pursuit of the French, to overtake them in some last
ditch and crush them, annihilate them there. They stopped for nothing;
on, on they went, heedless of what lay in their way. Horses fell; their
traces were immediately cut, and they were left to be ground and torn
by the pitiless wheels until they were a shapeless, bleeding mass. Human
beings, prisoners and wounded men, who attempted to cross the road, were
ruthlessly borne down and shared their fate. Although the men were dying
with hunger the fierce hurricane poured on unchecked; was a loaf thrown
to the drivers, they caught it flying; the torch-bearers passed slices
of meat to them on the end of their bayonets, and then, with the same
steel that had served that purpose, goaded their maddened horses on
to further effort. And the night grew old, and still the artillery was
passing, with the mad roar of a tempest let loose upon the land, amid
the frantic cheering of the men.

Maurice's fatigue was too much for him, and notwithstanding the interest
with which he listened to Silvine's narrative, after the substantial
meal he had eaten he let his head decline upon the table on his crossed
arms. Jean's resistance lasted a little longer, but presently he too
was overcome and fell dead asleep at the other end of the table. Father
Fouchard had gone and taken his position in the road again; Honore was
alone with Silvine, who was seated, motionless, before the still open
window.

The artilleryman rose, and drawing his chair to the window, stationed
himself there beside her. The deep peacefulness of the night was
instinct with the breathing of the multitude that lay lost in slumber
there, but on it now rose other and louder sounds; the straining and
creaking of the bridge, the hollow rumble of wheels; the artillery was
crossing on the half-submerged structure. Horses reared and plunged in
terror at sight of the swift-running stream, the wheel of a caisson
ran over the guard-rail; immediately a hundred strong arms s