brand-new twenty-franc pieces, drive into the courtyard of the
Prefecture. This convoy was, in fact, neither more nor less than the
vehicles for the personal use of the Emperor and his suite, the _char
a banc_, the two _caleches_, the twelve baggage and supply wagons,
which had almost excited a riot in the villages through which they had
passed--Courcelles, le Chene, Raucourt; assuming in men's imagination
the dimensions of a huge train that had blocked the road and arrested
the march of armies, and which now, shorn of their glory, execrated by
all, had come in shame and disgrace to hide themselves among the
sous-prefect's lilac bushes.

While Delaherche was raising himself on tiptoe and trying to peer
through the windows of the _rez-de-chaussee_, an old woman at his
side, some poor day-worker of the neighborhood, with shapeless form
and hands calloused and distorted by many years of toil, was mumbling
between her teeth:

"An emperor--I should like to see one once--just once--so I could say
I had seen him."

Suddenly Delaherche exclaimed, seizing Maurice by the arm:

"See, there he is! at the window, to the left. I had a good view of
him yesterday; I can't be mistaken. There, he has just raised the
curtain; see, that pale face, close to the glass."

The old woman had overheard him and stood staring with wide-open mouth
and eyes, for there, full in the window, was an apparition that
resembled a corpse more than a living being; its eyes were lifeless,
its features distorted; even the mustache had assumed a ghastly