The next day I happened to go into the drawing-room. The blinds were down, and the door was open into the passage. An unaccustomed object was lying on the table. Bless me, it was a box of chocolates! Delicious sweets, no doubt of it! And on the cover Barbu had written in his neatest hand and best French, "Sacrifice to the invisible spirits." Every one came and contemplated the gift and the autograph with laughter. Then we allowed the poor chocolates to get damp in the dimly lighted room. They disappeared three weeks after as mysteriously as they had come, the day of "our Prussians'" departure. May they lie lightly on Barbu's stomach! At last the convoy left Morny. On the morning on which they were to start Barbu plunged us into an ocean of perplexities by asking us: "You do not mind my taking a few snapshots of your house, do you?" "Certainly ... not, sir." "I should be very happy if one or two of the young ladies consented to sit at a window." And nobody had prompted him in that! In vain I objected that the hour was early, and that my sisters-in-law got up very late. "Oh, it does not matter," said he. "We will wait for them. Ask the ladies to get ready, and we will come back in half an hour." Think how nice it would be in a year or two in Berlin, or Leipzig, or Heidelberg, to show a few photographs! "Here are a few souvenirs of our victorious stay in France! In that house we led a very happy life. The young ladies whom you see were reluctant hostesses, but the French, breathing revenge, were obliged to welcome us!" The whole family was in a fury of anger. "Of course, it is out of the question to comply with all the wishes of these wretched Prussians!" Two days before Barbu had invited his brothers-in-arms to dinner. Upon this occasion he asked us for a table-cloth, a large table-cloth. We took out of its dark hiding-place a damask cloth and eighteen napkins. "Is that what you want, sir?" "We wish vases also." "Will these do?" "And we desire flowers." "Take some asters from the garden." And then: "May I take a photograph of your house?" "Sir, I cannot prevent you." "Will you put a smiling face at the window?" No, no, a truce to jesting. Give him a flat denial. But how? On taking leave the Germans would certainly try to shake hands with us, that is their way, and we were determined not to shake theirs. Would they take it amiss? More than once it had proved hazardous to irritate these dangerous guests. Mme. Valbot in Lierval saw her house plundered. Why? She had refused to sew on a button for the officer who lodged in her house. Old Vadois, the confectioner in Laon, was listening to the tales of "his Prussian." "The people are not kind enough to the soldiers," the officer said. "The French are better received in Alsace-Lorraine than we are here." "So the French are in Alsace-Lorraine!" the old man cried out, with a blissful look.