run from the houses and carry to the soldiers what
they have called for, a drink or a bit of bread; they hold the
knapsacks for the wounded, or help them quickly to bandages.

There are clouds of dust on the high road. The first cavalry of the
enemy approach the gate, cautiously looking out, the Carabiniers on the
right flank. A shot falls from the rear-guard, the Chasseur also fires
his carbine, turns his horse, and retires. Immediately the enemy's
vanguard press on in quick trot, and the Prussian Tirailleurs withdraw
from one position to another firing. Finally the last has abandoned the
line of houses. Once more they collect outside the gate, in order to
detain the enemy's cavalry, who have again formed into rank.

The streets are empty and shut. Even the boys who have accompanied the
Prussian Tirailleurs have disappeared; the curtains of the windows are
let down, and the doors closed; but behind curtain and door are anxious
faces looking at the approaching enemy. Suddenly a cry bursts forth
from a thousand rough voices--_vive l'Empereur!_ and, like a flood, the
French infantry rush into the town. Immediately they knock against the
doors with the butt ends of their muskets, and if they are not opened
quick enough they are broken in. Now follow desperate disputes between
the defenceless citizen and the irritated enemy--exorbitant demands,
threats, and frequently ill-usage and peril of death--everywhere
clamour, lamentation, and violence. Cupboards and desks are broken
open, and everything, both valuable and valueless, plundered, spoiled,
or destroyed, especially in those houses whose inmates have fled; for
the property of an uninhabited house, according to the custom of war,
falls to the share of the soldier. The city authorities are dragged to
the townhall, and difficult negotiations begin concerning the
quartering of the troops, the delivery of provisions and forage, and
impossible contributions.

If the enemy's General cannot be satisfied with gifts, or if the town
is to be punished, the inhabitants of most consideration are collected,
forcibly detained, threatened, and, perhaps at last, carried off as
hostages. If a larger corps is encamped round the city, one battalion
bivouacs in the market-place. The French are rapidly accommodated. They
have fetched straw from the suburbs, they have robbed provisions on the
road, and cut up the doors and furniture for fire-wood. Disagreeably
sounds the crash of the axe on t