He struggled still, but at last I showed him a village on the left of the road and said: "Look! there is the road to Harberg, and there are houses like those at Quatre Vents; let us go there and ask for bread; I have money, and we shall certainly find some. That will be better than to attack the convoys like a pack of wolves." He allowed himself to be persuaded at last, and we set off once more through the grain. If hunger had not urged us on, we should have sat down on the side of the path at every step. But at the end of half an hour, thanks to God, we reached a sort of farm-house; it was abandoned, with the windows broken out, and the door wide open, and great heaps of black earth lying about. We went in and shouted, "Is there no one here?" We knocked against the furniture with the butts of our muskets, but not a soul answered. Our fury increased, because we saw several wretches, following the route by which we had come, and we thought, "They are coming to eat up our bread." Ah! those who have never suffered these privations cannot comprehend the fury which possessed us. It was horrible--horrible! We had already broken open the door of a cupboard filled with linen, and were turning over everything with our bayonets, when an old woman came out from behind a table, which hid the passage to the cellar. She sobbed and exclaimed: "My God, my God! have mercy upon us." The house had been pillaged early in the morning; they had taken away the horses, the master had disappeared and the servants had fled. In spite of our fury the sight of the poor old woman made us ashamed of ourselves, and I said to her: "Do not be afraid, we are not monsters, only give us some bread, we are starving." She was sitting on an old chair with her withered hands crossed over her knee, and she said: "I no longer have any, they have taken all. My God! all! all!" Her gray hair was hanging down over her face, and I felt like weeping for her and for ourselves. "Well!" I said, "we must look for ourselves, Buche." We went into all the rooms and the stables, there was nothing to be seen, everything had been stolen and broken. I was going out, when in the shadow behind the old door, I saw something whitish against the wall. I stopped, and stretched out my hand. It was a linen bag with a strap, I took it down, trembling in my hurry. Buche looked at me--the bag was heavy--I opened it, there were two great black radishes, half of a small loaf of bread, dry and hard as stone, a large pair of shears for trimming hedges, and quite in the bottom some onions and some gray salt in a paper. On seeing these we made an exclamation of joy, but the fear of seeing the others come in, made us run out in the rear, far into the rye-field, skulking and hiding like thieves. We had regained all our strength, and we went and sat down on the edge of a little brook. Buche said: "Look here! I must have my part."