George, seeing that he was unable to shake my resolution, lay down upon a bench and went to sleep. I could not shut my eyes. Next day, at six o'clock, we had to resume the march; the Silesians well-refreshed, we with empty stomachs. We were moving in the direction of Gros Tenquin. The farther we advanced, the less I knew of the country. It was the country around Metz, le pays Messin, an old French district, and our misery increased at every stage. The Prussians continued to receive whatever they required, and took no further trouble with us than merely preventing us from leaving their company: they treated us like beasts of burden; and, in spite of all our economy, our money was wasting away. Never was so sad a position as ours; for, on the fourth or fifth day, the officer, guessing from our appearance that we were meditating flight, quite unceremoniously said in our presence to the sentinels: "If those people stir out of the road, fire upon them." We met many others in a similar position to ours, in the midst of these squadrons and these regiments, which were continually crossing each other and were covering the roads. At the sight of each other, we felt as if we could burst into tears. George always kept up his spirits, and even from time to time he assumed an air of gayety, asking a light of the soldiers to light his pipe, and singing sea-songs, which made the Prussian officers laugh. They said: "This fellow is a real Frenchman: he sees things in a bright light." I could not understand that at all: no, indeed! I said to myself that my cousin was losing his senses. What grieved me still more was to see my fine horses perishing--my poor horses, so sleek, so spirited, so steady; the best horses in the commune, and which I had reared with so much satisfaction. Oh, how deplorable! ... Passing along the hedges, by the roadside, I pulled here and there handfuls of grass, to give them a taste of something green, and in a moment they would stare at it, toss up their heads, and devour this poor stuff. The poor brutes could be seen wasting away, and this pained me more than anything. Then the thoughts of my wife and Gredel, and their uneasiness, what they were doing, what was becoming of the mill and our village--what the people would say when they knew that their mayor was gone, and then the town, and Jacob--everything overwhelmed me, and made my heart sink within me. But the worst of all, and what I shall never forget, was in the neighborhood of Metz.