It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people shrugged their shoulders, with a smile, as they said to themselves, “The old madman that he is! What use will he make of all that rubbish?” They were in the wrong. Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris, in the rue de la Chaussee d’Antin, in a small shop, above the door of which he had painted the sign: “Lichtenbach, money-changer.” It was in this modest counter that the Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of the Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell old iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had happened, which had in no slight degree contributed to the exodus of the Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the change of business. The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been, for the majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the signal for departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound down to the land were the only ones to remain in the villages. All who were free of action had loaded the waggons with their trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter themselves from the enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and disasters. The highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun were covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape the invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt, crushed before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the general impulse, Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent his steps towards the centre of France. Instead of moving away from the invader he had marched towards him, and leaving behind in the shop everything cumbersome and worthless, had reached Metz with six baggage waggons, carefully covered, and had settled in a small street near the cathedral, with his wife and son, Elias. Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with his waggon and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him. Some, more cunning than others, said, “Old Moses is a sly fellow. If Metz is besieged he will buy the broken fragments of German shells as old iron, and continue his business.” But they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of Lichtenbach’s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege and an energetic defence would take place, that victuals would soon become scarce for the town population, and that whoever had the disposal, at a given time, of special food products, might, by selling them at a high price, make a considerable profit.