Hutin was there. I looked him straight in the eyes and said slowly: "Hutin! The Germans are at Compiègne!" "Where?" "At Compiègne!" He grew pale and shrugged his shoulders. "No!" "Yes, at Compiègne!" "Compiègne! Compiègne! Why, that's less than sixty miles from Paris! Oh, my God!" We looked at each other. "Who let them get through?" "Those in the north, I suppose." "Then it's worse than in '70!" "At Compiègne!" repeated Hutin distractedly. Dreadful thoughts of downfall, of treason, of all the bitterness of defeat and of suffering endured to no purpose rose up like spectres in each man's mind. "I told you so; we've been sold!" declared the trumpeter. In spite of everything, I still could not believe in treachery. "Sold! Why sold? By whom?... By whom?" "How should I know? But they wouldn't be at Compiègne if we hadn't been betrayed. Oh, it's the old story!... Just like '70.... Bazaine in '70!" "We may have been overwhelmed.... There are so many of them!... Three times our numbers!... Besides, in 1870 the mistake made by the Châlons army was that they didn't wait for the Germans at Paris. That is well known. If MacMahon's army had not advanced, had not let itself be bottled up at Sedan, perhaps we shouldn't have been beaten...." I grasped at the idea of a strategic retreat, and tried to convince my comrades in order to convince myself. But they all remained downcast and sullen, and kept repeating: "Just as in '70!" What a refrain! Bréjard, who had been listening as he smoked, was the only one who was still confident. "The worst of it is," said he, "that we don't know anything for certain. But, if the other Army Corps are in the same condition as ours, all is by no means lost. They've probably been pushed back a bit in the north, like we have been in Belgium. But if they haven't been taken, that is the main thing, and as for this being the same as '70--why, there's absolutely no resemblance! In '70 we were alone, whereas now we've got the English and Russians with us." "Oh, don't talk to me about the English and Russians!" said the trumpeter. "Have you seen any of the English, sergeant?" "No, but they're over here, all right." "They are said to be," corrected Millon. "But it was also said that we were advancing in the north. A brilliant advance!..." "And the Russians!" went on Pelletier. "Why the hell aren't they in Berlin by this time? They've nothing to stop them on their side...." Bréjard shrugged his shoulders: "Well, but all the same they can't get there by railway, you know!" "But a month ought to be enough ... with their famous Cossacks," retorted the trumpeter. And he continued: "It's all tommy-rot! Shall I tell you what _I_ think of it, sergeant? Well, these Russians and English, who have declared war on Germany ... it's simply sham!... A put-up job! They've engineered the whole thing together in order to do us in ... just like '70!"