I was wearing upon my shoulders my travelling cape; I placed it upon his. Then I slipped into his pocket a small roll of thalers, and George gave him two louis. After this, the tears and lamentations of the women recommenced; we were obliged to promise to return on the morrow. The garrison was defiling down the street; Jacob ran to fall in, and disappeared with the rest, near the barracks. As for Jean Baptiste Werner, we saw him no more. The German officers were coming and going up and down the town to distribute their troops amongst the townspeople. It was twelve o'clock, and we returned to our village, sadder and more distressed than ever. And now we knew that Jacob was safe; but we knew also that he was going to be carried, we could not tell where, to the farthest depths of Germany. My wife arrived home quite ill; the damp weather, her anxiety, her anguish of mind, had cast her down utterly. She went to bed with a shivering fit, and could not return next day to town, nor Gredel, who was taking care of her, so I went alone. Orders had come to take the prisoners to Luetzelbourg. On reaching the square, near the chemist Rebe's shop, I saw them all in their ranks, moving by twos down the road. The inhabitants had closed their shutters, not to witness this humiliation; for Hessian soldiers, with arms shouldered, were escorting them: our poor boys were advancing between them, their heads hanging sorrowfully down. I stopped at the chemist's corner, and waited, being unable to discern Jacob in the midst of that crowd. All at once I recognized him, and I cried, "Jacob!" He was going to throw himself into my arms; but the Hessians repulsed me. We both burst into tears, and I went on walking by the side of the escort, crying, "Courage! ... Write to us.... Your mother is not quite well.... She could not come.... It is not much!" He answered nothing; and many others who were there had their friends and relations before or behind them. We wanted to accompany them to Luetzelbourg; unhappily, at the gate the Prussians had posted sentinels, who stopped us, pointing their bayonets at us. They would not even allow us to press our children's hands. On all sides were cries: "Adieu, Jean!" "Adieu, Pierre!" and they replied: "Adieu! Farewell, father!" "Adieu! Farewell, mother!" and then the sighs, the sobs, the tears.... [Illustration: "GOOD-BY, MY FATHER! GOOD-BY, MY MOTHER!"] Ah! the Plebiscite, the Plebiscite!