The opposing forces on the other side of the river must be very near each other, as we hear oftener than before the hateful rattle of the mitrailleuse. Its bark, however, we are told, is worse than its bite. Between 2 and 3 o’clock, according to my watch, the King passed near where I stood. After looking for a while through his glass towards the suburbs of Sedan, he said to those who accompanied him, “There, to the left, they are pushing forward large masses of troops; I think it is a sortie.” It was, as a matter of fact, an advance of some columns of infantry, which, however, soon retired, probably because they found that although this place was quiet it was by no means open. Shortly afterwards, with the assistance of the field-glass, one could see the French cavalry deliver several attacks on the crest of the hill to the left of the wood near the defile, which were repelled by volleys from our side. After these charges it could be seen, even with the naked eye, that the ground was covered with white objects, horses or soldiers’ cloaks. Soon afterwards the artillery fire grew weaker at all points, and there was a general retreat of the French towards the town and its immediate vicinity. As already mentioned, they had for some time past been closed in on the left, where the Würtemberg troops had a couple of batteries not far from our hill, and where, as we were informed, the 5th and 11th Army Corps had cut off all escape, with the exception of a small gap towards the Belgian frontier. After half-past 4 all their guns were silent, and somewhat later ours also ceased firing. Once again the scene becomes more animated. Suddenly bluish white clouds rise first in one and then in a second part of the town, showing that it is burning in two places. Bazeilles also is still in flames, and is sending up a pillar of dense grey, yellow vapour into the clear evening air. The soft radiance of the declining sun is spreading more and more over the valley at our feet, like burnished gold. The hillocks of the battle-field, the ravine in the midst, the villages, the houses, the towers of the fortress, the suburb of Torcy, and the broken bridge in the distance to the left, stand out in clear relief, from moment to moment more distinct as if seen through stronger and stronger glasses. Towards 5 o’clock General Hindersin speaks to the King, and I fancy I catch the words, “Bombard the town,” and a “heap of ruins.” A quarter of an hour later a Bavarian officer gallops up the height towards us. General von Bothmer sends word to the King that General Mailinger, who is stationed at Torcy with the chasseurs, reports that the French desire to capitulate, and that their unconditional surrender has been demanded. The King replied, “No one can negotiate this matter except myself. Tell the general that the bearer of the flag of truce must come to me.”