Notwithstanding this terrible lesson Maurice, upon reaching Mouzon, was still possessed by his unalterable determination to attempt an escape.  The prisoners were in such an exhausted condition when they reached the place that the Prussians had to assist them to set up the few tents that were placed at their disposal.  The camp was formed near the town, on low and marshy ground, and the worst of the business was that another convoy having occupied the spot the day before, the field was absolutely invisible under the superincumbent filth; it was no better than a common cesspool, of unimaginable foulness.  The sole means the men had of self-protection was to scatter over the ground some large flat stones, of which they were so fortunate as to find a number in the vicinity.  By way of compensation they had a somewhat less hard time of it that evening; the strictness of their guardians was relaxed a little once the captain had disappeared, doubtless to seek the comforts of an inn.  The sentries began by winking at the irregularity of the proceeding when some children came along and commenced to toss fruit, apples and pears, over their heads to the prisoners; the next thing was they allowed the people of the neighborhood to enter the lines, so that in a short time the camp was swarming with impromptu merchants, men and women, offering for sale bread, wine, cigars, even.  Those who had money had no trouble in supplying their needs so far as eating, drinking, and smoking were concerned.  A bustling animation prevailed in the dim twilight; it was like a corner of the market place in a town where a fair is being held.

But Maurice drew Jean behind their tent and again said to him in his nervous, flighty way: 

“I can’t stand it; I shall make an effort to get away as soon as it is dark.  To-morrow our course will take us away from the frontier; it will be too late.”

“Very well, we’ll try it,” Jean replied, his powers of resistance exhausted, his imagination, too, seduced by the pleasing idea of freedom.  “They can’t do more than kill us.”

After that he began to scrutinize more narrowly the venders who surrounded him on every side.  There were some among the comrades who had succeeded in supplying themselves with blouse and trousers, and it was reported that some of the charitable people of the place had regular stocks of garments on hand, designed to assist prisoners in escaping.  And almost immediately his attention was attracted to a pretty girl, a tall blonde of sixteen with a pair of magnificent eyes, who had on her arm a basket containing three loaves of bread.  She was not crying her wares like the rest; an anxious, engaging smile played on her red lips, her manner was hesitating.  He looked her steadily in the face; their glances met and for an instant remained confounded.  Then she came up, with the embarrassed smile of a girl unaccustomed to such business.

“Do you wish to buy some bread?”