nows that we have abundance of space in the factory, and I have already
authorized the gentlemen to make use of the courtyard and the big
drying-room. But you should go down in person--"

"Oh, at once, at once!" exclaimed Henriette, hastening toward the door.
"We will do what we can to help."

Gilberte also displayed much enthusiasm for her new occupation as nurse;
she barely took the time to throw a lace scarf over her head, and the
three women went downstairs. When they reached the bottom and stood in
the spacious vestibule, looking out through the main entrance, of which
the leaves had been thrown wide back, they beheld a crowd collected in
the street before the house. A low-hung carriage was advancing slowly
along the roadway, a sort of carriole, drawn by a single horse, which
a lieutenant of zouaves was leading by the bridle. They took it to be
a wounded man that they were bringing to them, the first of their
patients.

"Yes, yes! This is the place; this way!"

But they were quickly undeceived. The sufferer recumbent in the carriole
was Marshal MacMahon, severely wounded in the hip, who, his hurt having
been provisionally cared for in the cottage of a gardener, was now being
taken to the Sous-Prefecture. He was bareheaded and partially divested
of his clothing, and the gold embroidery on his uniform was tarnished
with dust and blood. He spoke no word, but had raised his head from
the pillow where it lay and was looking about him with a sorrowful
expression, and perceiving the three women where they stood, wide eyed
with horror, their joined hands resting on their bosom, in presence of
that great calamity, the whole army stricken in the person of its chief
at the very beginning of the conflict, he slightly bowed his head, with
a faint, paternal smile. A few of those about him removed their hats;
others, who had no time for such idle ceremony, were circulating the
report of General Ducrot's appointment to the command of the army. It
was half-past seven o'clock.

"And what of the Emperor?" Henriette inquired of a bookseller, who was
standing at his door.

"He left the city near an hour ago," replied the neighbor. "I was
standing by and saw him pass out at the Balan gate. There is a rumor
that his head was taken off by a cannon ball."

But this made the grocer across the street furious. "Hold your tongue,"
he shouted, "it is an infernal lie! None but the brave will leave their
bones there to-day!"

When near