It was a cruel sight to see the ambulances stop at our door in the wind, cold, rain, and snow; to hear the groans of the sick and wounded being removed from the carts and borne in helpless. When evening came, to end the long melancholy days, the Prussian bugles sounded the retreat under the leafless elm trees, with its slowly marked time, and its last three notes thrown out like the weird screech of a night-bird at the approach of night. This was the moment when the Doctor, muddy and tired, entered my room. He himself brought my food, and, with his usual good nature, told me all he had done—about his visits, the hearsays from Paris and from the provinces, about the sick people brought to him, and his disputes with the Prussian major, who was his colleague in command of the hospital, and whose German pedantry annoyed and exasperated him. We talked in sad low tones, and then the kind man bade me good-night. Once more alone, I softly opened my window to breathe the fresh air for a few minutes. In spite of the bitter cold, it did me good. In its peaceful slumbers the country seemed to return to its former condition and resumed the aspect of its happier days. But soon the step of a patrol, the groan of a wounded man, the sound of the cannon thundering on the horizon, brought me back to the reality, and I retired into my prison, full of hatred and anger. At the end of a short time this cellular kind of existence in the midst of the army of occupation became intolerable. Having lost all hope of entering Paris, I regretted my Hermitage. There, at least, I had solitude and Nature. I was not tempted there, as I was here, to interfere in the injustices, brutalities, and constant vexations going on in the street, thereby running the risk of compromising my kind host. Therefore I resolved upon leaving. [Picture: Robert, peering from his window] To my great surprise, the Doctor did not even try to dissuade me from my project. —You are quite right, he said quietly; you will be safer over there. Since, on reflection, I have always fancied that some neighbour may have seen me behind the lattice, and that my host, although he would not admit it, feared they would betray me. We therefore decided that I should leave Draveil the next day, in the same manner in which I arrived. When it was quite dark, I went down into the stable. I hid myself in the straw of the cabriolet, the Doctor’s cloak was thrown over me, and we started off. The journey was accomplished without accident. Every hundred and fifty or two hundred yards was a sentry-box erected by the roadside at the expense of the district. —_Wer da_? challenged the sentry, cocking his rifle. The Doctor answered: —_Lazareth_! And the little gig continued its jingling rattle over the stones. At the edge of the forest he stopped. The road was clear. I hastily jumped out.