nd
found again, that was hers, hers alone, that thenceforth no one was ever
to take from her. He was hers once more, he whom she had lost, and she
would die rather than let anyone deprive her of him.

At that moment confused sounds reached their ears; the sleeping camp
was awaking amid a tumult that rose and filled the dark vault of heaven.
Hoarse voices were shouting orders, bugles were sounding, drums
beating, and from the naked fields shadowy forms were seen emerging
in indistinguishable masses, a surging, billowing sea whose waves were
already streaming downward to the road beneath. The fires on the banks
of the stream were dying down; all that could be seen there was masses
of men moving confusedly to and fro; it was not even possible to tell
if the movement across the river was still in progress. Never had the
shades of night veiled such depths of distress, such abject misery of
terror.

Father Fouchard came to the window and shouted that the troops were
moving. Jean and Maurice awoke, stiff and shivering, and got on their
feet. Honore took Silvine's hands in his and gave them a swift parting
clasp.

"It is a promise. Wait for me."

She could find no word to say in answer, but all her soul went out to
him in one long, last look, as he leaped from the window and hurried
away to find his battery.

"Good-by, father!"

"Good-by, my boy!"

And that was all; peasant and soldier parted as they had met, without
embracing, like a father and son whose existence was of little import to
each other.

Maurice and Jean also left the farmhouse, and descended the steep hill
on a run. When they reached the bottom the 106th was nowhere to be
found; the regiments had all moved off. They made inquiries, running
this way and that, and were directed first one way and then another. At
last, when they had near lost their wits in the fearful confusion, they
stumbled on their company, under the command of Lieutenant Rochas; as
for the regiment and Captain Beaudoin, no one could say where they were.
And Maurice was astounded when he noticed for the first time that that
mob of men, guns, and horses was leaving Remilly and taking the Sedan
road that lay on the left bank. Something was wrong again; the passage
of the Meuse was abandoned, they were in full retreat to the north!

An officer of chasseurs, who was standing near, spoke up in a loud
voice:

"_Nom de Dieu!_ the time for us to make the movement was the 28th, when
we were