Combette, a bustling, wizened little man, came in from the street in a great state of excitement from all that he had seen and heard.  His position as deputy-mayor gave him facilities for knowing what was going on.  It was about half-past three o’clock when MacMahon had telegraphed Bazaine that the Crown Prince of Prussia was approaching Chalons, thus necessitating the withdrawal of the army to the places along the Belgian frontier, and further dispatches were also in preparation for the Minister of War, advising him of the projected movement and explaining the terrible dangers of their position.  It was uncertain whether or not the dispatch for Bazaine would get through, for communication with Metz had seemed to be interrupted for the past few days, but the second dispatch was another and more serious matter; and lowering his voice almost to a whisper the apothecary repeated the words that he had heard uttered by an officer of rank:  “If they get wind of this in Paris, our goose is cooked!” Everyone was aware of the unrelenting persistency with which the Empress and the Council of Ministers urged the advance of the army.  Moreover, the confusion went on increasing from hour to hour, the most conflicting advices were continually coming in as to the whereabouts of the German forces.  Could it be possible that the Crown Prince was at Chalons?  What, then, were the troops that the 7th corps had encountered among the passes of the Argonne?

“They have no information at staff headquarters,” continued the little druggist, raising his arms above his head with a despairing gesture.  “Ah, what a mess we are in!  But all will be well if the army retreats to-morrow.”  Then, dropping public for private matters, the kind-hearted man said:  “Look here, my young friend, I am going to see what I can do for that foot of yours; then we’ll give you some dinner and put you to bed in my apprentice’s little room, who has cleared out.”

But Maurice was tormented by such an itching desire for further intelligence that he could neither eat nor sleep until he had carried into execution his original design of paying a visit to his old friend, Madame Desvallieres, over the way.  He was surprised that he was not halted at the door, which, in the universal confusion, had been left wide open, without so much as a sentry to guard it.  People were going out and coming in incessantly, military men and officers of the household, and the roar from the blazing kitchen seemed to rise and pervade the whole house.  There was no light in the passage and on the staircase, however, and he had to grope his way up as best he might.  On reaching the first floor he paused for a few seconds, his heart beating violently, before the door of the apartment that he knew contained the Emperor, but not a sound was to be heard in the room; the stillness that reigned there was as of death.  Mounting the last flight he presented himself at the door of the servant’s room to which Madame Desvallieres had been consigned; the old lady was at first terrified at sight of him.  When she recognized him presently she said: