to find it in
the hands of the Prussians first, and of the Commune afterward. One of
his companions on that eventful journey thus describes the feelings of
the returned exile:--

"Making good their retreat from Mezieres, on their way to Paris,
the remnant of Vinoy's corps, poor, harassed creatures, covered
with dust and discolored with powder, pale with exertion and
discouragement, were lying all along the road. Close behind them
were the Uhlans. There was no alternative for them but flight, if
they would escape the disaster that had befallen the army at Sedan.
Defeat was written in their faces, demoralization was evident in
their attitude, they were dejected and dirty, they were like
pebbles driven along by a hurricane. But what of that? Anyhow, they
were soldiers of France; their uniform proclaimed their
nationality: they wore the blue tunic and the red trousers,--but
what was of infinitely more consequence, they were carrying their
colors back with them. Their defeat did not prevent them bringing
back the tri-color safe and sound.

"Great tears rolled from Victor Hugo's eyes. He leaned from the
carriage-window, and with a voice thrilling in its earnestness, he
kept shouting: 'Vive la France, vive l'armee, vive la patrie!'
Exhausted as they were with hunger and fatigue, the bewildered
soldiers looked up. They scarcely comprehended what he said, but he
continued his shouting, and it was almost like an order of quick
march to them all, when they made out that they were being assured
that they had done their duty, and that it was by no fault of
theirs that they had sustained defeat.

"And so the train went on. The tears still lost themselves in
Victor Hugo's snowy beard. He had lived in the proud illusion that
France was invincible; he was a soldier's son, and could not
conceive that the soldiers of his country were not pledged to
glory."

It was ten o'clock when the train reached Paris, but a great crowd which
had been gathering for hours was there to receive him. With continued
acclamations they bore him to the house of his friend Paul Meurice,
where he was to stay, and called upon him continually for a speech. He
said a few words to the crowd, at the station and at the house, but
gladly sought the seclusion of his new home, being completely overcome
with emotion. This was at