within, should take place without our knowledge.  Such an emergency shows what men are.  M. Barbou, though in ordinary times he discharges his duties as adjoint satisfactorily enough (though, it need not be added, a good Maire who is acquainted with his duties, makes the office of adjoint of but little importance), was now found entirely useless.  He could not forget how he had been spun round and tossed forth from the city gates.  When I proposed to put him at the head of a patrol, he had an attack of the nerves.  Before nightfall he deserted me altogether, going off to his country-house, and taking a number of his neighbours with him.  ’How can we tell when we may be permitted to return to the town?’ he said, with his teeth chattering.  ’M. le Maire, I adjure you to put yourself in a place of safety.’

‘Sir,’ I said to him, sternly, ’for one who deserts his post there is no place of safety.’

But I do not think he was capable of understanding me.  Fortunately, I found in M. le Cure a much more trustworthy coadjutor.  He was indefatigable; he had the habit of sitting up to all hours, of being called at all hours, in which our bourgeoisie, I cannot but acknowledge, is wanting.  The expression I have before described of astonishment—­but of astonishment which he wished to conceal—­never left his face.  He did not understand how such a thing could have been permitted to happen while he had no share in it; and, indeed, I will not deny that this was a matter of great wonder to myself too.

The arrangements I have described gave us occupation; and this had a happy effect upon us in distracting our minds from what had happened; for I think that if we had sat still and gazed at the dark city we should soon have gone mad, as some did.  In our ceaseless patrols and attempts to find a way of entrance, we distracted ourselves from the enquiry, Who would dare to go in if the entrance were found?  In the meantime not a gate was opened, not a figure was visible.  We saw nothing, no more than if Semur had been a picture painted upon a canvas.  Strange sights indeed met our eyes—­sights which made even the bravest quail.  The strangest of them was the boats that would go down and up the river, shooting forth from under the fortified bridge, which is one of the chief features of our town, sometimes with sails perfectly well managed, sometimes impelled by oars, but with no one visible in them—­no one conducting them.  To see one of these boats impelled up the stream, with no rower visible, was a wonderful sight.  M. de Clairon, who was by my side, murmured something about a magnetic current; but when I asked him sternly by what set in motion, his voice died away in his moustache.  M. le Cure said very little:  one saw his lips move as he watched with us the passage of those boats.  He smiled when it was proposed by some one to fire upon them.  He read his Hours as he went round at the head of his patrol.  My fellow townsmen and I