of beef in a
porringer.

All urged us to "Eat, eat!" When one or another would ask us a
question about the battle, the smith or the mayor would say:

"Let the men finish, you can see plainly that they have come a long
way."

And it was only when we had finished eating, that they questioned us,
asking if it was true that the French had lost a great battle. The
first report was that we were the victors, but afterward they heard a
rumor that we were defeated.

We understood that they were speaking of Ligny, and that their ideas
were confused. I was ashamed to tell that we were overthrown; I looked
at Buche, and he said:

"We have been betrayed. The traitors revealed our plans. The army was
full of traitors, who cried, 'Sauve qui peut!' How was it possible for
us not to lose, under such circumstances?"

It was the first time I had heard treason spoken of; some of the
wounded, it is true, had said, "We are betrayed," but I had paid no
attention to their words, and when Buche relieved us from our
embarrassment by this means, I was glad of it, though I was astonished.

The people sympathized with us in our indignation against the traitors.

Then we were obliged to explain the battle and the treason. Buche said
the Prussians had fallen upon us through the treason of Marshal Grouchy.

This seemed to me to be going too far, but the peasants in their pity
for us had made us drink again and again, and had given us pipes and
tobacco, and at last I said the same as Buche. It was not till after
we had left the place that the recollection of our shameful falsehoods
made me ashamed of myself, and I said to Buche:

"Do you know, Jean, that our lies about the traitors were not right?
If every one tells as many, we shall all be traitors, and the Emperor
will be the only true man amongst us. It is a disgrace to the country
to say that we have so many traitors; it is not true."

"Bah! bah!" said he. "We have been betrayed; if we had not, the
English and Prussians could never have forced us to retreat."

We did nothing but dispute this point till eight o'clock in the
evening. By this time we had reached a village called Bouvigny.

We were so tired that our legs were as stiff as stakes, and for a long
while we had needed a great deal of courage to take a single step.

We were certain that the Prussians were no longer near, and as I had
money we went into an inn and asked for a bed.

I took out a six-franc piece in