ng to the
dread suspense of that long night of terror while waiting for the coming
of the dawn?

Maurice put forth his hand and felt for Jean's; at last he slumbered,
comforted by the sense of human companionship. From a steeple in Sedan
came the deep tones of a bell, slowly, mournfully, tolling the hour;
then all was blank and void.

PART SECOND

I.

Weiss, in the obscurity of his little room at Bazeilles, was aroused
by a commotion that caused him to leap from his bed. It was the roar of
artillery. Groping about in the darkness he found and lit a candle to
enable him to consult his watch: it was four o'clock, just beginning to
be light. He adjusted his double eyeglass upon his nose and looked out
into the main street of the village, the road that leads to Douzy, but
it was filled with a thick cloud of something that resembled dust, which
made it impossible to distinguish anything. He passed into the other
room, the windows of which commanded a view of the Meuse and the
intervening meadows, and saw that the cause of his obstructed vision
was the morning mist arising from the river. In the distance, behind the
veil of fog, the guns were barking more fiercely across the stream. All
at once a French battery, close at hand, opened in reply, with such a
tremendous crash that the walls of the little house were shaken.

Weiss's house was situated near the middle of the village, on the right
of the road and not far from the Place de l'Eglise. Its front, standing
back a little from the street, displayed a single story with three
windows, surmounted by an attic; in the rear was a garden of some extent
that sloped gently downward toward the meadows and commanded a wide
panoramic view of the encircling hills, from Remilly to Frenois. Weiss,
with the sense of responsibility of his new proprietorship strong upon
him, had spent the night in burying his provisions in the cellar and
protecting his furniture, as far as possible, against shot and shell by
applying mattresses to the windows, so that it was nearly two o'clock
before he got to bed. His blood boiled at the idea that the Prussians
might come and plunder the house, for which he had toiled so long and
which had as yet afforded him so little enjoyment.

He heard a voice summoning him from the street.

"I say, Weiss, are you awake?"

He descended and found it was Delaherche, who had passed the night at
his dyehouse, a large brick structure, next door to th