“They have no information at staff headquarters,” continued the little druggist, raising his arms above his head with a despairing gesture. “Ah, what a mess we are in! But all will be well if the army retreats to-morrow.” Then, dropping public for private matters, the kind-hearted man said: “Look here, my young friend, I am going to see what I can do for that foot of yours; then we’ll give you some dinner and put you to bed in my apprentice’s little room, who has cleared out.” But Maurice was tormented by such an itching desire for further intelligence that he could neither eat nor sleep until he had carried into execution his original design of paying a visit to his old friend, Madame Desvallières, over the way. He was surprised that he was not halted at the door, which, in the universal confusion, had been left wide open, without so much as a sentry to guard it. People were going out and coming in incessantly, military men and officers of the household, and the roar from the blazing kitchen seemed to rise and pervade the whole house. There was no light in the passage and on the staircase, however, and he had to grope his way up as best he might. On reaching the first floor he paused for a few seconds, his heart beating violently, before the door of the apartment that he knew contained the Emperor, but not a sound was to be heard in the room; the stillness that reigned there was as of death. Mounting the last flight he presented himself at the door of the servant’s room to which Madame Desvallières had been consigned; the old lady was at first terrified at sight of him. When she recognized him presently she said: “Ah, my poor child, what a sad meeting is this! I would cheerfully have surrendered my house to the Emperor, but the people he has about him have no sense of decency. They lay hands on everything, without so much as saying, ‘By your leave,’ and I am afraid they will burn the house down with their great fires! He, poor man, looks like a corpse, and such sadness in his face—” And when the young man took leave of her with a few murmured words of comfort she went with him to the door, and leaning over the banister: “Look!” she softly said, “you can see him from where you are. Ah! we are all undone. Adieu, my child!” Maurice remained planted like a statue on one of the steps of the dark staircase. Craning his neck and directing his glance through the glazed fanlight over the door of the apartment, he beheld a sight that was never to fade from his memory.