The colonel raised himself at a bound to a sitting posture, notwithstanding his bandaged foot; he took his sword from the chair by the bedside where it lay and made an attempt to break it, but his hands trembled too violently, and the blade slipped from his fingers.

“Look out! he will cut himself!” Delaherche cried in alarm.  “Take that thing away from him; it is dangerous!”

Mme. Delaherche took possession of the sword.  With a feeling of compassionate respect for the poor colonel’s grief and despair she did not conceal it, as her son bade her do, but with a single vigorous effort snapped it across her knee, with a strength of which she herself would never have supposed her poor old hands capable.  The colonel laid himself down again, casting a look of extreme gentleness upon his old friend, who went back to her chair and seated herself in her usual rigid attitude.

In the dining room the cook had meantime served bowls of hot coffee and milk for the entire party.  Henriette and Gilberte had awakened, the latter, completely restored by her long and refreshing slumber, with bright eyes and smiling face; she embraced most tenderly her friend, whom she pitied, she said, from the bottom of her heart.  Maurice seated himself beside his sister, while Jean, who was unused to polite society, but could not decline the invitation that was extended to him, was Delaherche’s right-hand neighbor.  It was Mme. Delaherche’s custom not to come to the table with the family; a servant carried her a bowl, which she drank while sitting by the colonel.  The party of five, however, who sat down together, although they commenced their meal in silence, soon became cheerful and talkative.  Why should they not rejoice and be glad to find themselves there, safe and sound, with food before them to satisfy their hunger, when the country round about was covered with thousands upon thousands of poor starving wretches?  In the cool, spacious dining room the snow-white tablecloth was a delight to the eye and the steaming cafe au lait seemed delicious.

They conversed, Delaherche, who had recovered his assurance and was again the wealthy manufacturer, the condescending patron courting popularity, severe only toward those who failed to succeed, spoke of Napoleon III., whose face as he saw it last continued to haunt his memory.  He addressed himself to Jean, having that simple-minded young man as his neighbor.  “Yes, sir, the Emperor has deceived me, and I don’t hesitate to say so.  His henchmen may put in the plea of mitigating circumstances, but it won’t go down, sir; he is evidently the first, the only cause of our misfortunes.”

He had quite forgotten that only a few months before he had been an ardent Bonapartist and had labored to ensure the success of the plebiscite, and now he who was henceforth to be known as the Man of Sedan was not even worthy to be pitied; he ascribed to him every known iniquity.