The callers were about to leave, but the drunken man still wished to take Geneviève away. "She must go to prison ... she has insulted the German army." The "Blackguard," who was almost sober, pulled him by the arm: "Come away, come away! These people will make a fuss, and it will be said that we are barbarians!" Sainte-Brute was loath to let himself be convinced. At length his unsteady legs took him off, and his acolytes followed him. "Ah!" cried Geneviève, passing her hand over her forehead with a gesture as of madness, "to think that all our life we have been respected, that we have met only polite and courteous people, and now drunken brutes may insult us in our own house! Why, they talk of putting us in prison, as though we were old rag-pickers found trespassing." The neighbours hastened to condole with us, for the shouts of the soldiers had been heard a mile off. The next intrusion came the following day. They returned to fetch the beans. This time they were merry in their cups, they asked for their prey with smiles, and laying hold of it seemed vastly amused. On leaving they burst out laughing, and Von Bernhausen, who was waiting for them outside, roared with merriment as he weighed the sack of beans in his hand. The Prussians are full of humour. For three days running, no offensive. Then, one morning, the Hussars announced themselves, as usual, by shouting, kicking at the gate, and ringing violently at the bell. They walked in, went through the house, and right on to the bathroom. "We want this bath." It was no use protesting. The bath was taken away. Three days after it was lying smashed to pieces in the yard of an inn which the Hussars frequented, and serving as a dust-bin for the sluts of the place. Then came the turn of the piano. Some time before Christmas the non-commissioned officer who had previously searched the house presented himself very civilly: "You have a piano; I want it for a few days; we shall bring it back to you after Christmas." We could not say a word. Weeks glided by; the new year saw many dawns break; and no one brought back the piano. This harmonious piece of furniture was the finest ornament of a house which the _garde-voies_ had made their home. You saw nothing but black coats there; no Hussars, no convoys. The _garde-voies_ are territorials, elderly, sedate men, fathers of families, whose stoutness their uniforms cannot conceal. They smoke pipes as big as beer glasses, and drink beer out of glasses as big as kegs. They looked scornfully on those who stay at the farm, whose drunkenness and rakish habits are a cause of scandal to them. Therefore they kept aloof, searched houses, and requisitioned goods for their own account, had their private rejoicings, and spent their evenings amid tobacco smoke and the smells of beer, while they listened rapturously to patriotic songs or even playful ditties hammered out on our good-natured piano.