the fight which revived all his apprehensions. Metz was excited and alarmed, and the streets were crowded during the afternoon and evening, with passing soldiers, guns, baggage waggons and provision carts. Night brought no rest, for the Guard and the 3rd Corps came hastily over the river, and were densely packed inside the town and outside the ramparts in the space between the walls and Mount St. Quentin; while General de Ladmirault was engaged until morning in passing his divisions across the Isle Chambière, and Metman had also strayed from Bellecroix to that side of the town. Marshal Bazaine had quitted Borny at dusk. He rode through Metz “with difficulty,” and made his way to the Imperial head-quarters. Here Napoleon, who was in bed, welcomed him with his usual kindness, and when the Marshal explained his fears lest the Germans should cut in on his line of retreat, and referring to his wound, begged to be superseded, the Emperor, he writes, “touching my bruised shoulder and the fractured epaulette, gracefully said, ‘It will be nothing, an affair of a few days, and you have just broken the charm.’” Apparently, Napoleon still clung to the belief that the allies he had sought would come to his aid. “I await an answer from the Emperor of Austria and the King of Italy,” he said; “compromise nothing by too much precipitation, and, above all things, avoid fresh reverses.” He counted on one sovereign whom he had defeated in battle, and another whom he had helped to enlarge his kingdom, and he counted in vain, partly because he was unsuccessful, but chiefly because the national political interests of both countries prevailed over the gratitude felt by Victor Emmanuel, and the desire to turn the tables on the House of Hohenzollern which was still strong in the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine. “You will drag us out of this hornet’s nest, Marshal, won’t you?” exclaimed an officer, as Bazaine quitted the Imperial quarters. It was a task beyond his strength. When day dawned a thick fog shrouded the valley of the Moselle, and before the camp at Longeville was astir, a shell from the opposite bank burst near a tent, “cut a Colonel in two,” to use the soldatesque language of Marshal Canrobert, “carried off the leg of a battalion commander, and wounded two officers standing near a drummer.” The lucky shot came from a patrol of German cavalry, which had ridden forward as far as the railway station, unopposed, and its commander, observing a camp at Longeville, had brought his guns into action, and proved, once again, that the hornets were abroad and making a bold use of their offensive weapons. A battery hastily ran out, and the heavy metal of St. Quentin drove off the intruders; but they had learned that the foe was over the river before they retired. Soon afterwards, by Bazaine’s order, a mine was fired, and one section of the railway bridge was destroyed.