ngaged in
cooking their food, when some tin pans fell against each other. Thinking
it was a bomb, they again scattered, and the General was obliged to ride
along the line shouting "Courage, courage; it is the soup, my children."
In the meantime a terrible mishap had occurred on the north of the
Marne. On Monday evening, General Trochu and General Ducrot slept at
Vincennes. The latter had issued an address, in which he informed his
troops that he meant either to conquer or die. During the night an
exchange of shots had taken place across the river between the French
and Prussian sharp-shooters. Towards morning the latter had withdrawn.
At break of day the troops were drawn up ready to cross the river as
soon as the engagement on the southern lines had diverted the attention
of the enemy. The bridges were there ready to be thrown across, when it
was discovered that the Marne had overflown its bed, and could not be
crossed. Whether it be true or not that the Prussians had cut a dam, or
whether, as sometimes occurs with literary generals, the pontoons were
too few in number, is not yet clear. Whatever the cause, the effect was
to render it impossible to carry out to-day the plan which was to take
General Ducrot and his troops down to Orleans, and at the present moment
he and they are still at Vincennes, waiting for the river to go down. At
twelve o'clock I managed to get through the gate of Vanves. Outside the
walls everything was quiet. Troops were massed in all sheltered places
to resist any attack which might be made from the plateau of Chatillon.
None of the officers seemed to know what had occurred. Some thought that
Choisy had been taken, others that Ducrot had got clear away. I was
walking along the outposts in advance of Vanves, when a cantankerous
officer, one of those beings overflowing with ill-regulated zeal, asked
me what I was doing. I showed my pass. My zealous friend insisted that I
had come in from the Prussian lines, and that I probably was a spy. I
said I had left Paris an hour ago. He replied that this was impossible,
as no civilian was allowed to pass through the gate. Things began to
look uncomfortable. The zealot talked of shooting me, as a simple and
expeditious mode of solving the question. To this I objected, and so at
length it was agreed that I should be marched off to the fort of Vanves.
We found the Commandant seated before his fort with a big stick in his
hand, like a farmer before his farm yard