Leaning out of the window, Julio heard the dialogues
and shouts on the platforms impregnated with the acrid odor of men and
mules. All were evincing an unquenchable confidence. "The Boches! very
numerous, with huge cannons, with many mitrailleuse . . . but we only
have to charge with our bayonets to make them run like rabbits!"
The attitude of those going to meet death was in sharp contrast to
the panic and doubt of those who were deserting Paris. An old
and much-decorated gentleman, type of a jubilee functionary, kept
questioning Desnoyers whenever the train started on again--"Do you
believe that they will get as far as Tours?" Before receiving his reply,
he would fall asleep. Brutish sleep was marching down the aisles with
leaden feet. At every junction, the old man would start up and suddenly
ask, "Do you believe that we will get as far as Bordeaux?" . . . And
his great desire not to halt until, with his family, he had reached
an absolutely secure refuge, made him accept as oracles all the vague
responses.
At daybreak, they saw the Territorialists guarding the roads. They were
armed with old muskets, and were wearing the red kepis as their only
military distinction. They were following the opposite course of the
military trains.
In the station at Bordeaux, the civilian crowds struggling to get out
or to enter other cars, were mingling with the troops.
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