which stood the residence, a roomy, rectangular
structure, approached by an avenue of venerable elms. Facing it, and
separated from it by the deep, narrow valley, with its steeply sloping
banks, were other similar country seats, backed by a wood.

Henriette's anxiety was aroused at sight of the open door, "They are not
at home," she said; "they must have gone away."

The truth was that Dubreuil had decided the day before to take his
wife and children to Bouillon, where they would be in safety from the
disaster he felt was impending. And yet the house was not unoccupied;
even at a distance and through the intervening trees the approaching
party were conscious of movements going on within its walls. As the
young woman advanced into the avenue she recoiled before the dead body
of a Prussian soldier.

"The devil!" exclaimed Rochas; "so they have already been exchanging
civilities in this quarter!"

Then all hands, desiring to ascertain what was going on, hurried forward
to the house, and there their curiosity was quickly gratified; the
doors and windows of the _rez-de-chaussee_ had been smashed in with
musket-butts and the yawning apertures disclosed the destruction that
the marauders had wrought in the rooms within, while on the graveled
terrace lay various articles of furniture that had been hurled from
the stoop. Particularly noticeable was a drawing-room suite in
sky-blue satin, its sofa and twelve fauteuils piled in dire confusion,
helter-skelter, on and around a great center table, the marble top of
which was broken in twain. And there were zouaves, chasseurs, liners,
and men of the infanterie de marine running to and fro excitedly behind
the buildings and in the alleys, discharging their pieces into the
little wood that faced them across the valley.

"Lieutenant," a zouave said to Rochas, by way of explanation, "we found
a pack of those dirty Prussian hounds here, smashing things and raising
Cain generally. We settled their hash for them, as you can see for
yourself; only they will be coming back here presently, ten to our one,
and that won't be so pleasant."

Three other corpses of Prussian soldiers were stretched upon the
terrace. As Henriette was looking at them absently, her thoughts
doubtless far away with her husband, who, amid the blood and ashes of
Bazeilles, was also sleeping his last sleep, a bullet whistled close to
her head and struck a tree that stood behind her. Jean sprang forward.

"Madame, do