Night descended while they were at Wadelincourt, and it was pitchy dark long before they reached Remilly.  Father Fouchard was greatly surprised to behold the body of his son, for he had felt certain that it would never be recovered.  He had been attending to business during the day, and had completed an excellent bargain; the market price for officers’ chargers was twenty francs, and he had bought three for forty-five francs.

II.

The crush was so great as the column of prisoners was leaving Torcy that Maurice, who had stopped a moment to buy some tobacco, was parted from Jean, and with all his efforts was unable thereafter to catch up with his regiment through the dense masses of men that filled the road.  When he at last reached the bridge that spans the canal which intersects the peninsula of Iges at its base, he found himself in a mixed company of chasseurs d’Afrique and troops of the infanterie de marine.

There were two pieces of artillery stationed at the bridge, their muzzles turned upon the interior of the peninsula; it was a place easy of access, but from which exit would seem to be attended with some difficulties.  Immediately beyond the canal was a comfortable house, where the Prussians had established a post, commanded by a captain, upon which devolved the duty of receiving and guarding the prisoners.  The formalities observed were not excessive; they merely counted the men, as if they had been sheep, as they came streaming in a huddle across the bridge, without troubling themselves overmuch about uniforms or organizations, after which the prisoners were free of the fields and at liberty to select their dwelling-place wherever chance and the road they were on might direct.

The first thing that Maurice did was to address a question to a Bavarian officer, who was seated astride upon a chair, enjoying a tranquil smoke.

“The 106th of the line, sir, can you tell me where I shall find it?”

Either the officer was unlike most German officers and did not understand French, or thought it a good joke to mystify a poor devil of a soldier.  He smiled and raised his hand, indicating by his motion that the other was to keep following the road he was pursuing.

Although Maurice had spent a good part of his life in the neighborhood he had never before been on the peninsula; he proceeded to explore his new surroundings, as a mariner might do when cast by a tempest on the shore of a desolate island.  He first skirted the Tour a Glaire, a very handsome country-place, whose small park, situated as it was on the bank of the Meuse, possessed a peculiarly attractive charm.  After that the road ran parallel with the river, of which the sluggish current flowed on the right hand at the foot of high, steep banks.  The way from there was a gradually ascending one, until it wound around the gentle eminence that occupied the central portion of the peninsula, and there were abandoned