the
door. I could not help screaming out. "What's the matter?" said the
sergeant.

We could hear them running away, and Rabot turned on his knapsack
saying:

"Night birds,--rascals,--clear out, or I'll send a ball after you!" He
said no more and I got up and looked out of the window, and saw the
wretches in the act of robbing the dead and wounded. They were going
softly from one to another, while the rain was falling in torrents. It
was something horrible.

I lay down again and fell asleep overcome by fatigue.

At daybreak the sergeant was up and crying, "En route!"

We left the cottage and went back through the lane. The cuirassier was
on the ground, but his horse still stood beside him. The sergeant took
him by the bridle and led him out into the orchard, pulled the bits
from his mouth and said:

"Go, and eat, they will find you again by and by."

And the poor beast walked quietly away. We hurried along the path
which runs by Ligny. The furrows stopped here and some plats of garden
ground lay along by the road. The sergeant looked about him as he
went, and stooped down to dig up some carrots and turnips which were
left. I quickly followed his example, while our comrades hastened on
without looking round.

I saw that it was a good thing to know the fruits of the earth. I
found two beautiful turnips and some carrots, which are very good raw,
but I followed the example of the sergeant and put them in my shako.

I ran on to overtake the squad, which was directing its steps toward
the fires at Sombref. As for the rest, I will not attempt to describe
to you the appearance of the plateau in the rear of Ligny where our
cuirassiers and dragoons had slaughtered all before them. The men and
horses were lying in heaps. The horses with their long necks stretched
out on the ground and the dead and wounded lying under them.

Sometimes the wounded men would raise their hands to make signs when
the horses would attempt to get up and fall back, crushing them still
more fearfully.

Blood! blood! everywhere. The directions of the balls and shot was
marked on the slope by the red lines, just as we see in our country the
lines in the sand formed by the water from the melting snow. But will
you believe it? These horrors scarcely made any impression upon me.
Before I went to Lutzen such a sight would have knocked me down. I
should have thought then, "Do our masters look upon us as brutes? Will
the good God