As soon as Jean discovered where his regiment lay he went in quest of Lieutenant Rochas to make his report.  He found him, together with Captain Beaudoin, in earnest consultation with the colonel at the door of a small inn, all of them anxiously waiting to see what tidings roll-call would give them as to the whereabouts of their missing men.  The moment the corporal opened his mouth to address the lieutenant, Colonel Vineuil, who heard what the subject was, called him up and compelled him to tell the whole story.  On his long, yellow face, where the intensely black eyes looked blacker still contrasted with the thick snow-white hair and the long, drooping mustache, there was an expression of patient, silent sorrow, and as the narrative proceeded, how the miserable wretches deserted their colors, threw away arms and knapsacks, and wandered off like vagabonds, grief and shame traced two new furrows on his blanched cheeks.

“Colonel,” exclaimed Captain Beaudoin, in his incisive voice, not waiting for his superior to give an opinion, “it will best to shoot half a dozen of those wretches.”

And the lieutenant nodded his head approvingly.  But the colonel’s despondent look expressed his powerlessness.

“There are too many of them.  Nearly seven hundred! how are we to go to work, whom are we to select?  And then you don’t know it, but the general is opposed.  He wants to be a father to his men, says he never punished a soldier all the time he was in Africa.  No, no; we shall have to overlook it.  I can do nothing.  It is dreadful.”

The captain echoed:  “Yes, it is dreadful.  It means destruction for us all.”

Jean was walking off, having said all he had to say, when he heard Major Bouroche, whom he had not seen where he was standing in the doorway of the inn, growl in a smothered voice:  “No more punishment, an end to discipline, the army gone to the dogs!  Before a week is over the scoundrels will be ripe for kicking their officers out of camp, while if a few of them had been made an example of on the spot it might have brought the remainder to their senses.”

No one was punished.  Some officers of the rear-guard that was protecting the trains had been thoughtful enough to collect the muskets and knapsacks scattered along the road.  They were almost all recovered, and by daybreak the men were equipped again, the operation being conducted very quietly, as if to hush the matter up as much as possible.  Orders were given to break camp at five o’clock, but reveille sounded at four and the retreat to Belfort was hurriedly continued, for everyone was certain that the Prussians were only two or three leagues away.  Again there was nothing to eat but dry biscuit, and as a consequence of their brief, disturbed rest and the lack of something to warm their stomachs the men were weak as cats.  Any attempt to enforce discipline on the march that morning was again rendered nugatory by the manner of their departure.