Henriette quickly returned to her home in the Rue des Voyards. She felt convinced that she would now find her husband there; and, reflecting that he would be alarmed by her absence, she hastened her steps. She raised her head as she drew near to the house, almost fancying that she could see him leaning out of the window, watching for her. But no, there was nobody at the window, which was still wide open. And when she had climbed the stairs, and given a glance into each of the three rooms, she stopped short thunderstruck, her heart filled with anguish at only finding there that same icy fog, deadening the incessant commotion of the cannonade. They were still firing over yonder, and, for a moment, she returned to the window. The morning mist still reared its impenetrable veil, but now that she was informed she immediately realised that the struggle was going on at Bazeilles; she could distinguish the crackling of the mitrailleuses, and the crashing volleys of the French batteries, replying to the distant volleys of the German ones. It seemed, too, as though the detonations were coming nearer; the battle was, every minute, growing more and more violent. Why did not Weiss return? He had promised so positively that he would come back at the first attack. Henriette's disquietude was increasing; she pictured obstacles: the road might be cut, perhaps the shells already rendered a retreat too dangerous. And perhaps, too, an irreparable misfortune had happened. But she dismissed that thought, sustained by hope which urged her to action. For a moment she thought of going to Bazeilles, of starting to meet her husband. Then she hesitated, for they might cross one another on the way, and what would become of her if she should miss him? And how alarmed he would be if he came home and did not find her there! On the other hand, however, bold as it was to think of going to Bazeilles at such a moment, it seemed to her a natural course to follow--the proper course, indeed, for an active woman like herself, who did whatever was requisite in her household affairs without asking for instructions. And besides, wherever her husband was, she ought to be there too; that was the long and short of it. All at once, however, possessed by a fresh idea, she left the window, saying: 'And Monsieur Delaherche--I must see.'