'Ah! yes, the Prussians,' said Silvine. 'Well, they had broken everything, pillaged everything, eaten everything, drunk everything. They also stole the house linen, the napkins, the towels, the sheets, even the muslin curtains, which they tore into long strips to dress their feet with. I saw some of them whose feet were so many big sores, so fearfully had they been punished by their terrible march. In the road, in front of the doctor's, a number of them took off their boots and bound strips of lace-edged chemises round their heels--chemises which they had stolen, no doubt, from pretty Madame Lefèvre, the manufacturer's wife. The pillage lasted till nightfall. The houses had no doors and scarcely a pane of glass left, but were quite open to the street, and you could see the remnants of furniture inside--everything smashed--a sight to make the calmest people furious. I was almost out of my senses, and I could not stay there any longer. At the doctor's they tried to detain me, telling me that the roads were blocked, that they were not safe, that I should certainly be killed; but, all the same, I went off, and took to the fields on the right hand as soon as I got out of Raucourt. Carts full of French and Prussian wounded, all heaped up together, were arriving from Beaumont. Two passed quite close to me in the darkness, and I heard such groans, such shrieks of pain that I ran--oh! I ran right across the fields and through the woods without knowing where I was--going a long distance out of my way over towards Villers. I hid myself three times, fancying I could hear some soldiers, but the only person I met was another woman, who was running, like myself--running away from Beaumont--and who told me things that made my hair stand on end. Well, at last I got here, and I feel so wretched--oh, so wretched!'