Quick as lightning, he wrapped me up in his cloak, hid me in the straw under the apron of the carriage, and set off in the direction of Draveil, where the excellent man has turned his house into a hospital. From the cabriolet I passed into the coach-house. There, dry clothes and a few glasses of hot grog soon revived me. I remained there till nightfall, without daring to move, understanding very well, although the Doctor had never told me, the risk he was incurring by receiving me. The house was full of soldiers and hospital attendants. Military boots resounded on the pavement of the small courtyard. And all around, the loud laughter, the swords clashing, and the harsh German speech, still more accentuated by its insolent tone. I heard all this with my eyes shut, stupefied by the sensation of comfort, with a vague recollection of past danger and of the cold river, and poor Goudeloup’s heart-rending groan ringing in my ears. At night the Doctor came to set me free, and took me to the room generally occupied by his grandchildren, whom he had sent away on the approach of the Prussians. It was there that I awoke the next morning. After the horrible scenes of the previous day, those three little cribs, with white muslin curtains round them, the children’s toys lying scattered on the floor with their lesson-books, even the faint medicinal smell that came from a cupboard in which the Doctor kept some drugs, everything calmed and soothed my over-excited nerves. In a neighbouring yard a cock crowed and a donkey began braying. The village seemed to awaken. Suddenly a bugle-call, rudely jarring on these peaceful sounds, recalled the sad reality. Then there was coming and going to and fro; doors banged . . . I drew near the window. The Doctor’s house looked into the street, over the flower-beds of a narrow strip of garden in front of it. Every one knew his house, with its round brass bell-knob standing out brightly on the freshly white-washed wall; and the furniture in the little parlour, which could be seen on the ground-floor, gave it an appearance of homely comfort. Hidden behind the closed blinds, I saw the street full of men in forage-caps falling into line, calling, numbering each other, ready to start. Among the caps, several Bavarian helmets appeared. These were quartermasters running from house to house, chalking down the numbers on the doors, preparing quarters for the advancing forces. Soon the departing regiment moved off to the sound of their drums, while opposite, at the entrance to the village, the Bavarian buglers noisily entered. During the last three months the unhappy village had been in this condition. The straw of the encampments had not time to grow cold between the departure of one regiment and the arrival of another . . . [Picture: Being picked up by the Doctor] The Doctor, who just then came into the room, made me leave the window.