as she had left it when she went out, was vacant,
and when she had run up the stairs and given a rapid glance through
her three rooms, it was with a sinking heart that she saw they were
untenanted save for the chill fog and continuous roar of the cannonade.
The distant firing was still going on. She went and stood for a moment
at the window; although the encircling wall of vapor was not less dense
than it had been before, she seemed to have a clearer apprehension, now
that she had received oral information, of the details of the conflict
raging at Bazeilles, the grinding sound of the mitrailleuses, the
crashing volleys of the French batteries answering the German batteries
in the distance. The reports seemed to be drawing nearer to the city,
the battle to be waxing fiercer and fiercer with every moment.

Why did not Weiss return? He had pledged himself so faithfully not to
outstay the first attack! And Henriette began to be seriously alarmed,
depicting to herself the various obstacles that might have detained him:
perhaps he had not been able to leave the village, perhaps the roads
were blocked or rendered impassable by the projectiles. It might even be
that something had happened him, but she put the thought aside and would
not dwell on it, preferring to view things on their brighter side and
finding in hope her safest mainstay and reliance. For an instant she
harbored the design of starting out and trying to find her husband, but
there were considerations that seemed to render that course inadvisable:
supposing him to have started on his return, what would become of her
should she miss him on the way? and what would be his anxiety should he
come in and find her absent? Her guiding principle in all her thoughts
and actions was her gentle, affectionate devotedness, and she saw
nothing strange or out of the way in a visit to Bazeilles under such
extraordinary circumstances, accustomed as she was, like an affectionate
little woman, to perform her duty in silence and do the thing that she
deemed best for their common interest. Where her husband was, there was
her place; that was all there was about it.

She gave a sudden start and left the window, saying:

"Monsieur Delaherche, how could I forget--"

It had just come to her recollection that the cloth manufacturer had
also passed the night at Bazeilles, and if he had returned would be able
to give her the intelligence she wanted. She ran swiftly down the
stairs again. I