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Arrivals of detachments of German prisoners continue to be reported from various parts of France. A Prussian officer, speaking French fluently, was among a convoy of prisoners at Versailles yesterday. The officer, on seeing some French territorials march past, singing the "Marseillaise," remarked to his guard: "What a disillusion awaits us!" Saturday, August 15. Fourteenth day of mobilization.
Suddenly, as by a simultaneous impulse, their voices rang out in the Internationale the terrible Marseillaise of the workers: "Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!" And the refrain was taken up by hundreds of throats: "'Tis the final conflict, Let each stand in his place!" The walls of the street flung it back.
An aide, stretched like an Indian along the neck of his galloping horse, came to the skirmishers. "All right, Cleave! Go ahead! The Louisianians are pawing the ground! Shade of Alexander Hamilton, listen to that!" "That" was the "Marseillaise," grandly played. Tramp, tramp! the Louisianians came on to its strains.
"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night." "I know my way, I thank you." "Just as you like." He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde started walking down the monumental steps. "Well, I'll say 'good-night, de Marmont," he said coldly. "And 'good-bye, too." "You are not going away?" queried the other. "As soon as I can get the means of going."
At the abrupt interruption of the landlady's version of the "Marseillaise" the men swung round, and upon seeing the Deputy they sought in ludicrous haste to repair the disorder of their appearance. "So!" thundered Caron. "This is the watch you keep? This is how you are to be trusted? And you, Guyot," he continued, pointing his finger at the man. "Did I not bid you await my orders?
Each took his lady to her place the mayor with pompous gait, Serge with as much grace as if he had been at an ambassador's ball and was leading a young lady of highest rank. Madame Desvarennes was suddenly surrounded; cheers resounded, the band struck up the Marseillaise. "Let us escape," said Serge, "because these good people will think nothing of carrying us in triumph."
The old soldier declares his belief that he will rise again from the clods when he hears the victorious tramp of his Emperor's squadrons passing over his grave, and the minor breaks into a weird setting of the "Marseillaise" in the major key.
When we had been pulling silently for about a quarter of an hour, a small, thin sound came creeping across the water to us, that within another five minutes had resolved itself into the strains of the Marseillaise played upon an accordion and sung by a fairly good tenor voice, to which several others were almost instantly added.
Suddenly, as by a simultaneous impulse, their voices rang out in the Internationale the terrible Marseillaise of the workers: "Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!" And the refrain was taken up by hundreds of throats: "'Tis the final conflict, Let each stand in his place!" The walls of the street flung it back.
These things gave her the comfort of a good conscience; and she said her prayers, and fell calmly asleep, to the flattering thought, "I would not much wonder if, at this moment, Lieutenant Hyde is thinking about me." In reality, Lieutenant Hyde was at that moment in the Belvedere Club, singing the Marseillaise, and listening to a very inflammatory speech from the French Minister.
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