escort, until now he was brought face to face with the ruin he had
foreseen and come forth to meet? What multitudes of brave men were to
lay down their lives for his mistakes; and how complete the wreck, in
all his being, of that sick man--that sentimental dreamer, awaiting in
gloomy silence the fulfilment of his destiny!...

"O M. Delaherche! isn't this dreadful! Here, quick! this way, if you
would like to see the Emperor."

On the left of the corridor a door stood ajar; and through the narrow
opening a glimpse could be had of the sovereign, who had resumed his
weary, anguished tramp between the fireplace and the window. Back and
forth he shuffled with heavy, dragging steps, and ceased not, despite
his unendurable suffering. An aide-de-camp had just entered the
room--it was he who had failed to close the door behind him--and
Delaherche heard the Emperor ask him in a sorrowfully reproachful
voice:

"What is the reason of this continued firing, sir, after I gave orders
to hoist the white flag?"

The torture to him had become greater than he could bear--this
never-ceasing cannonade that seemed to grow more furious with every
minute. Every time he approached the window it pierced him to the
heart. More spilling of blood, more useless squandering of human life!
At every moment the piles of corpses were rising higher on the
battle-field, and his was the responsibility. The compassionate
instincts that entered so largely into his nature revolted at it, and
more than ten times already he had asked that question of those who
approached him.

"I gave orders to raise the white flag: tell me, why do they continue
firing?"

The aide-de-camp made answer in a voice so low that Delaherche failed
to catch its purport. The Emperor, moreover, seemed not to pause to
listen, drawn by some irresistible attraction to that window; at
which, each time he approached it, he was greeted by that terrible
salvo of artillery that rent and tore his being. His pallor was
greater even than it had been before; his poor, pinched, wan face, on
which were still visible traces of the rouge which had been applied
that morning, bore witness to his anguish.

At that moment a short, quick-motioned man in dust-soiled uniform,
whom Delaherche recognized as General Lebrun, hurriedly crossed the
corridor and pushed open the door, without waiting to be announced.
And scarcely was he in the room when again was heard the Emperor's so
oft-repeated question.