one subject had been operated on another was brought in, and they followed one another in such quick succession that there was barely time to pass a sponge over the protecting oilcloth.  At the extremity of the grass plot, screened from sight by a clump of lilac bushes, they had set up a kind of morgue whither they carried the bodies of the dead, which were removed from the beds without a moment’s delay in order to make room for the living, and this receptacle also served to receive the amputated legs, and arms, whatever debris of flesh and bone remained upon the table.

Mme. Delaherche and Gilberte, seated at the foot of one of the great trees, found it hard work to keep pace with the demand for bandages.  Bouroche, who happened to be passing, his face very red, his apron white no longer, threw a bundle of linen to Delaherche and shouted: 

“Here! be doing something; make yourself useful!”

But the manufacturer objected.  “Oh! excuse me; I must go and try to pick up some news.  One can’t tell whether his neck is safe or not.”  Then, touching his lips to his wife’s hair:  “My poor Gilberte, to think that a shell may burn us out of house and home at any moment!  It is horrible.”

She was very pale; she raised her head and glanced about her, shuddering as she did so.  Then, involuntarily, her unextinguishable smile returned to her lips.

“Oh, horrible, indeed! and all those poor men that they are cutting and carving.  I don’t see how it is that I stay here without fainting.”

Mme. Delaherche had watched her son as he kissed the young woman’s hair.  She made a movement as if to part them, thinking of that other man who must have kissed those tresses so short a time ago; then her old hands trembled, she murmured beneath her breath: 

“What suffering all about us, mon Dieu! It makes one forget his own.”

Delaherche left them, with the assurance that he would be away no longer than was necessary to ascertain the true condition of affairs.  In the Rue Maqua he was surprised to observe the crowds of soldiers that were streaming into the city, without arms and in torn, dust-stained uniforms.  It was in vain, however, that he endeavored to slake his thirst for news by questioning them; some answered with vacant, stupid looks that they knew nothing, while others told long rambling stories, with the maniacal gestures and whirling words of one bereft of reason.  He therefore mechanically turned his steps again toward the Sous Prefecture as the likeliest quarter in which to look for information.  As he was passing along the Place du College two guns, probably all that remained of some battery, came dashing up to the curb on a gallop, and were abandoned there.  When at last he turned into the Grande Rue he had further evidence that the advanced guards of the fugitives were beginning to take possession, of the city; three dismounted hussars had seated themselves in a doorway and were