’The activity of our alert Lisieux shone eminent; and, on this occasion too, brought us on:  for he struck into a small gap of the wagon-row; and held the advancing team back till we, with our six and our four horses, got intercalated; after which, in my light little coachlet, I could breathe freer.  We were now under way; at a funeral pace, but still under way.  The day broke; we found ourselves at the outlet of the Town, in a tumult and turmoil without measure.  All sorts of vehicles, few horsemen, innumerable foot-people, were crossing each other on the great esplanade before the Gate.  We turned to the right, with our Column, towards Estain, on a limited highway, with ditches at each side.  Self-preservation, in so monstrous a press, knew now no pity, no respect of aught.  Not far before us there fell down a horse of an ammunition-wagon:  they cut the traces, and let it lie.  And now as the three others could not bring their load along, they cut them also loose, tumbled the heavy-packed vehicle into the ditch; and, with the smallest retardation, we had to drive on, right over the horse, which was just about to rise; and I saw too clearly how its legs, under the wheels, went crashing and quivering.

’Horse and foot endeavoured to escape from the narrow laborious highway into the meadows:  but these too were rained to ruin; overflowed by full ditches, the connexion of the footpaths every where interrupted.  Four gentlemanlike, handsome, well-dressed French soldiers waded for a time beside our carriage; wonderfully clean and neat:  and had such art of picking their steps, that their foot-gear testified no higher than the ancle to the muddy pilgrimage these good people found themselves engaged in.

’That under such circumstances one saw, in ditches, in meadows, in fields and crofts, dead horses enough, was natural to the case:  by and by, however, you found them also flayed, the fleshy parts even cut away; sad token of the universal distress.

’Thus we fared on; every moment in danger, at the smallest stoppage on our own part, of being ourselves tumbled overboard; under which circumstances, truly, the careful dexterity of our Lisieux could not be sufficiently praised.  The same talent shewed itself at Estain; where we arrived towards noon; and descried, over the beautiful well-built little Town, through streets and on squares, around and beside us, one sense-confusing tumult:  the mass rolled this way and that; and, all struggling forward, each hindered the other.  Unexpectedly our carriage drew up before a stately house in the market-place; master and mistress of the mansion saluted us in reverent distance.’  Dexterous Lisieux, though we knew it not, had said we were the King of Prussia’s Brother!