rds hustled and
maltreated some citizens because they cast provisions to the prisoners.
In the Grande Rue one of the convoy fell in endeavoring to secure a
bottle that a lady extended to him, and was assisted to his feet with
kicks. For a week now Sedan had witnessed the saddening spectacle of
the defeated driven like cattle through its streets, and seemed no more
accustomed to it than at the beginning; each time a fresh detachment
passed the city was stirred to its very depths by a movement of pity and
indignation.

Jean had recovered his equanimity; his thoughts, like Maurice's,
reverted to Henriette, and the idea occurred to him that they might see
Delaherche somewhere among the throng. He gave his friend a nudge of the
elbow.

"Keep your eyes open if we pass through their street presently, will
you?"

They had scarce more than struck into the Rue Maqua, indeed, when they
became aware of several pairs of eyes turned on the column from one
of the tall windows of the factory, and as they drew nearer recognized
Delaherche and his wife Gilberte, their elbows resting on the railing
of the balcony, and behind them the tall, rigid form of old Madame
Delaherche. They had a supply of bread with them, and the manufacturer
was tossing the loaves down into the hands that were upstretched with
tremulous eagerness to receive them. Maurice saw at once that his sister
was not there, while Jean anxiously watched the flying loaves, fearing
there might none be left for them. They both had raised their arms and
were waving them frantically above their head, shouting meanwhile with
all the force of their lungs:

"Here we are! This way, this way!"

The Delaherches seemed delighted to see them in the midst of their
surprise. Their faces, pallid with emotion, suddenly brightened,
and they displayed by the warmth of their gestures the pleasure they
experienced in the encounter. There was one solitary loaf left, which
Gilberte insisted on throwing with her own hands, and pitched it into
Jean's extended arms in such a charmingly awkward way that she gave a
winsome laugh at her own expense. Maurice, unable to stop on account of
the pressure from the rear, turned his head and shouted, in a tone of
anxious inquiry:

"And Henriette? Henriette?"

Delaherche replied with a long farrago, but his voice was inaudible in
the shuffling tramp of so many feet. He seemed to understand that the
young man had failed to catch his meaning, for he gest