t but a heap of ruins.

"The robbers, the thieves! Would you have believed it, _hein_?" he
stammered, addressing Jean and Maurice. "There is no hope left; they
mean to burn Sedan this morning as they burned Bazeilles yesterday.
I'm ruined, I'm ruined!" The scar that Henriette bore on her forehead
attracted his attention, and he remembered that he had not spoken to
her yet. "It is true, you went there, after all; you got that wound--Ah!
poor Weiss!"

And seeing by the young woman's tears that she was acquainted with her
husband's fate, he abruptly blurted out the horrible bit of news that
the carpenter had communicated to him among the rest.

"Poor Weiss! it seems they burned him. Yes, after shooting all the
civilians who were caught with arms in their hands, they threw their
bodies into the flames of a burning house and poured petroleum over
them."

Henriette was horror-stricken as she listened. Her tears burst forth,
her frame was shaken by her sobs. My God, my God, not even the poor
comfort of going to claim her dear dead and give him decent sepulture;
his ashes were to be scattered by the winds of heaven! Maurice had again
clasped her in his arms and spoke to her endearingly, calling her his
poor Cinderella, beseeching her not to take the matter so to heart, a
brave woman as she was.

After a time, during which no word was spoken, Delaherche, who had been
standing at the window watching the growing day, suddenly turned and
addressed the two soldiers:

"By the way, I was near forgetting. What I came up here to tell you is
this: down in the courtyard, in the shed where the treasure chests were
deposited, there is an officer who is about to distribute the money
among the men, so as to keep the Prussians from getting it. You had
better go down, for a little money may be useful to you, that is,
provided we are all alive a few hours hence."

The advice was good, and Maurice and Jean acted on it, having first
prevailed on Henriette to take her brother's place on the sofa. If she
could not go to sleep again, she would at least be securing some repose.
As for Delaherche, he passed through the adjoining chamber, where
Gilberte with her tranquil, pretty face was slumbering still as soundly
as a child, neither the sound of conversation nor even Henriette's sobs
having availed to make her change her position. From there he went to
the apartment where his mother was watching at Colonel de Vineuil's
bedside, and thrust his