Delaherche remonstrated angrily, but by that time the Emperor had disappeared.  The hoarse murmur of the Meuse continued uninterruptedly; a wailing lament, inexpressibly mournful, seemed to pass above them through the air, where the darkness was gathering intensity.  Other sounds rose in the distance, like the hollow muttering of the rising storm; were they the “March! march!” that terrible order from Paris that had driven that ill-starred man onward day by day, dragging behind him along the roads of his defeat the irony of his imperial escort, until now he was brought face to face with the ruin he had foreseen and come forth to meet?  What multitudes of brave men were to lay down their lives for his mistakes, and how complete the wreck, in all his being, of that sick man, that sentimental dreamer, awaiting in gloomy silence the fulfillment of his destiny!

Weiss and Delaherche accompanied the two soldiers to the plateau of Floing, where the 7th corps camps were.

“Adieu!” said Maurice as he embraced his brother-in-law.

“No, no; not adieu, the deuce!  Au revoir!” the manufacturer gayly cried.

Jean’s instinct led him at once to their regiment, the tents of which were pitched behind the cemetery, where the ground of the plateau begins to fall away.  It was nearly dark, but there was sufficient light yet remaining in the sky to enable them to distinguish the black huddle of roofs above the city, and further in the distance Balan and Bazeilles, lying in the broad meadows that stretch away to the range of hills between Remilly and Frenois, while to the right was the dusky wood of la Garenne, and to the left the broad bosom of the Meuse had the dull gleam of frosted silver in the dying daylight.  Maurice surveyed the broad landscape that was momentarily fading in the descending shadows.

“Ah, here is the corporal!” said Chouteau.  “I wonder if he has been looking after our rations!”

The camp was astir with life and bustle.  All day the men had been coming in, singly and in little groups, and the crowd and confusion were such that the officers made no pretense of punishing or even reprimanding them; they accepted thankfully those who were so kind as to return and asked no questions.  Captain Beaudoin had made his appearance only a short time before, and it was about two o’clock when Lieutenant Rochas had brought in his collection of stragglers, about one-third of the company strength.  Now the ranks were nearly full once more.  Some of the men were drunk, others had not been able to secure even a morsel of bread and were sinking from inanition; again there had been no distribution of rations.  Loubet, however, had discovered some cabbages in a neighboring garden, and cooked them after a fashion, but there was no salt or lard; the empty stomachs continued to assert their claims.

“Come, now, corporal, you are a knowing old file,” Chouteau tauntingly continued, “what have you got for us?  Oh, it’s not for myself I care; Loubet and I had a good breakfast; a lady gave it us.  You were not at distribution, then?”