tack.

CHAPTER XXXVI. GENOA DURING THE SIEGE

If the natural perils of the expedition were sufficient to suggest
grave thoughts, the sight of the troops that were to form it was even
a stronger incentive to fear. I could not believe my eyes, as I watched
the battalions which now deployed before me. Always accustomed,
whatever the hardships they were opposed to, to see French soldiers
light-hearted, gay, and agile, performing their duties in a spirit of
sportive pleasure, as if soldiering were but fun, what was the shock I
received at sight of these careworn, downcast, hollow-cheeked fellows,
dragging their legs wearily along, and scarcely seeming to hear the
words of command; their clothes, patched and mended, sometimes too big,
sometimes too little, showing that they had changed wearers without
being altered; their tattered shoes, tied on with strings round the
ankles; their very weapons dirty and uncared for; they resembled rather
a horde of bandits than the troops of the first army of Europe. There
was, besides, an expression of stealthy, treacherous ferocity in their
faces, such as I never saw before. To this pitiable condition had they
been brought by starvation. Not alone the horses had been eaten, but
dogs and cats; even the vermin of the cellars and sewers was consumed as
food. Leather and skins were all eagerly devoured; and there is but too
terrible reason to believe that human flesh itself was used to prolong
for a few hours this existence of misery.

As they defiled into the 'Piazza,' there seemed a kind of effort to
assume the port and bearing of their craft; and although many stumbled,
and some actually fell, from weakness, there was an evident attempt to
put on a military appearance. The manner of the adjutant, as he passed
down the line, revealed at once the exact position of affairs. No
longer inspecting every little detail of equipment, criticising this, or
remarking on that, his whole attention was given to the condition of
the musket, whose lock he closely scrutinised, and then turned to the
cartouch-box. The ragged uniforms, the uncouth shakos, the belts dirty
and awry, never called forth a word of rebuke. Too glad, as it seemed,
to recognise even the remnants of discipline, he came back from his
inspection apparently well satisfied and content.

'These fellows turn out well,' said Colonel de Barre, as he looked along
the line; and I started to see if the speech were an unfeeling jest.
Far