Enter more companies of infantry, out of control of their officers, who are running behind. They see the dollars, and take up the scramble for them; next ransacking other waggons and abstracting therefrom uniforms, ladies raiment, jewels, plate, wines, and spirits. Some array them in the finery, and one soldier puts on a diamond necklace; others load themselves with the money still lying about the road. It begins to rain, and a private who has lost his kit cuts a hole in the middle of a deframed old master, and, putting it over his head, wears it as a poncho. Enter WELLINGTON and others, grimy and perspiring.] FIRST OFFICER The men are plundering in all directions! WELLINGTON Let 'em. They've striven long and gallantly. --What documents do I see lying there? SECOND OFFICER [examining] The archives of King Joseph's court, my lord; His correspondence, too, with Bonaparte. WELLINGTON We must examine it. It may have use. [Another company of soldiers enters, dragging some equipages that have lost their horses by the traces being cut. The carriages contain ladies, who shriek and weep at finding themselves captives.] What women bring they there? THIRD OFFICER Mixed sorts, my lord. The wives of many young French officers, The mistresses of more--in male attire. Yon elegant hussar is one, to wit; She so disguised is of a Spanish house,-- One of the general's loves. WELLINGTON Well, pack them off To-morrow to Pamplona, as you can; We've neither list nor leisure for their charms. By God, I never saw so many wh---s In all my life before! [Exeunt WELLINGTON, officers, and infantry. A soldier enters with his arm round a lady in rich costume.] SOLDIER We must be married, my dear. LADY [not knowing his language] Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! SOLDIER There's neither parson nor clerk here. But that don't matter--hey? LADY Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! SOLDIER And if we've got to unmarry at cockcrow, why, so be it--hey? LADY Anything, sir, if you'll spare my life! SOLDIER A sensible 'ooman, whatever it is she says; that I can see by her pretty face. Come along then, my dear. There'll be no bones broke, and we'll take our lot with Christian resignation. [Exeunt soldier and lady. The crowd thins away as darkness closes in, and the growling of artillery ceases, though the wheels of the flying enemy are still heard in the distance. The fires kindled by the soldiers as they make their bivouacs blaze up in the gloom, and throw their glares a long way, revealing on the slopes of the hills many suffering ones who have not yet been carried in. The last victorious regiment comes up from the rear, fifing and drumming ere it reaches its resting-place the last bars of “The Downfall of Paris”:--