With tears of rage in his eyes, he was recounting the shame and the
misery of the invasion.

He told of the pillage at Versailles, the exactions at Orleans, and the
pitiless requisitions that had stripped the people of everything.

"And these accursed foreigners to whom the traitors have delivered
us, will not go so long as a shilling or a bottle of wine is left in
France!" he exclaimed.

As he said this he shook his clinched fist menacingly at a white flag
that floated from the tower.

His generous anger won the close attention of his auditors, and they
were still listening to him with undiminished interest, when the sound
of a horse's hoofs resounded upon the stones of the only street in
Sairmeuse.

A shudder traversed the crowd. The same fear stopped the beating of
every heart.

Who could say that this rider was not some English or Prussian officer?
He had come, perhaps, to announce the arrival of his regiment, and
imperiously demand money, clothing, and food for his soldiers.

But the suspense was not of long duration.

The rider proved to be a fellow-countryman, clad in a torn and dirty
blue linen blouse. He was urging forward, with repeated blows, a little,