tted any of the deeds of horror with which
they had been credited while on their triumphal march, the people grew
bolder, and the necessities of business again animated the breasts of
the local merchants. Some of these had important commercial interests at
Havre --occupied at present by the French army--and wished to attempt to
reach that port by overland route to Dieppe, taking the boat from there.

Through the influence of the German officers whose acquaintance they had
made, they obtained a permit to leave town from the general in command.

A large four-horse coach having, therefore, been engaged for the
journey, and ten passengers having given in their names to the
proprietor, they decided to start on a certain Tuesday morning before
daybreak, to avoid attracting a crowd.

The ground had been frozen hard for some time-past, and about three
o'clock on Monday afternoon--large black clouds from the north shed
their burden of snow uninterruptedly all through that evening and night.

At half-past four in the morning the travellers met in the courtyard
of the Hotel de Normandie, where they were to take their seats in the
coach.

They were still half asleep, and shivering with cold under their wraps.
They could see one another but indistinctly in the darkness, and the
mountain of heavy winter wraps in which each was swathed made them look
like a gathering of obese priests in their long cassocks. But two men
recognized each other, a third accosted them, and the three began to
talk. "I am bringing my wife," said one. "So am I." "And I, too." The
first speaker added: "We shall not return to Rouen, and if the Prussians
approach Havre we will cross to England." All three, it turned out, had
made the same plans, being of similar disposition and temperament.

Still the horses were not harnessed. A small lantern carried by a
stable-boy emerged now and then from one dark doorway to disappear
immediately in another. The stamping of horses' hoofs, deadened by the
dung and straw of the stable, was heard from time to time, and from
inside the building issued a man's voice, talking to the animals and
swearing at them. A faint tinkle of bells showed that the harness was
being got ready; this tinkle soon developed into a continuous jingling,
louder or softer according to the movements of the horse, sometimes
stopping altogether, then breaking out in a sudden peal accompanied by a
pawing of the ground by an iron-shod hoof.

The door