ear it."

A poor old woman in the rear lifted up her hands, and cried:

"Christopher! my poor Christopher!"

Others, angry at her clamor, called out:

"Keep that old woman quiet."

Each one thought only of himself.

Behind, the crowd continued to pour through the German gate.

At length, Harmantier, the _sergent-de-ville_, came out of the
guard-house, and stood at the top of the steps, with another placard
like the first; a few soldiers followed him. Then a rush was made
toward him, but the soldiers kept off the crowd, and old Harmantier
began to read the placard, which he called the twenty-ninth bulletin,
and in which the Emperor informed them that during the retreat the
horses perished every night by thousands. He said nothing of the men!

The _sergent-de-ville_ read slowly; not a breath was heard in the
crowd; even the old woman, who did not understand French, listened like
the others. The buzz of a fly could have been heard. But when he came
to this passage, "Our cavalry was dismounted to such an extent that we
were forced to bring together the officers who yet owned horses to form
four companies of one hundred and fifty men each. Generals rated as
captains, and colonels as under-officers"--when he read this passage,
which told more of the misery of the grand army than all the rest,
cries and groans arose on all sides; two or three women fell and were
carried away.

It is true that the bulletin added, "The health of his majesty was
never better," and that was a great consolation. Unfortunately it
could not restore life to three hundred thousand men buried in the
snow; and so the people went away very sad. Others came by dozens who
had not heard the news read, and from time to time Harmantier came out
to read the bulletin.

This lasted until night; still the same scene over and over again.

I ran from the place; I wanted to know nothing about it.

I went to Monsieur the Commandant's. Entering a parlor, I saw him at
breakfast. He was an old man, but hale, with a red face and good
appetite.

"Ah! it is you!" said he, "Monsieur Goulden is not coming, then?"

"No, Monsieur the Commandant, the bad news has made him ill."

"Ah! I understand," he said, emptying his glass; "yes, it is
unfortunate."

And while I was regulating the clock, he added:

"Well! tell Monsieur Goulden that we will have our revenge. We cannot
always have the upper hand. For fifteen years we have kept the drums
beating