doorway of the inn, growl in a smothered voice: "No more punishment,
an end to discipline, the army gone to the dogs! Before a week is over
the scoundrels will be ripe for kicking their officers out of camp,
while if a few of them had been made an example of on the spot it
might have brought the remainder to their senses."

No one was punished. Some officers of the rear-guard that was
protecting the trains had been thoughtful enough to collect the
muskets and knapsacks scattered along the road. They were almost all
recovered, and by daybreak the men were equipped again, the operation
being conducted very quietly, as if to hush the matter up as much as
possible. Orders were given to break camp at five o'clock, but
reveille sounded at four and the retreat to Belfort was hurriedly
continued, for everyone was certain that the Prussians were only two
or three leagues away. Again there was nothing to eat but dry biscuit,
and as a consequence of their brief, disturbed rest and the lack of
something to warm their stomachs the men were weak as cats. Any
attempt to enforce discipline on the march that morning was again
rendered nugatory by the manner of their departure.

The day was worse than its predecessor, inexpressibly gloomy and
disheartening. The aspect of the landscape had changed, they were now
in a rolling country where the roads they were always alternately
climbing and descending were bordered with woods of pine and hemlock,
while the narrow gorges were golden with tangled thickets of broom.
But panic and terror lay heavy on the fair land that slumbered there
beneath the bright sun of August, and had been hourly gathering
strength since the preceeding day. A fresh dispatch, bidding the
mayors of communes warn the people that they would do well to hide
their valuables, had excited universal consternation. The enemy was at