"They came in, shouting '_Paris_--_Nach Paris!'_ maddened with
excitement. They were all singing--they were like men beside
themselves."
"What did they sing, Monsieur le Cure?--Deutschland ueber alles'?"
"Oh, no, madame, not at all. They sang hymns. It was an extraordinary
sight. They seemed possessed. They were certain that in a few hours they
would be in Paris. They passed through the town, and then, just south of
the town, they stopped. Our people show the place. It was the nearest
they ever got to Paris.
"Presently, an officer, with an escort, a general apparently, rode
through the town, pulled up at the Hotel de Ville, and asked for the
Maire--angrily, like a man in a passion. But the Maire--M. Odent--was
there, waiting, on the steps of the Hotel de Ville.
"Monsieur Odent was my friend--he gave me his confidence. He had
resisted his nomination as Mayor as long as he could, and accepted it
only as an imperative duty. He was an employer, whom his workmen loved.
One of them used to say--'When one gets into M. Odent's employ, one
lives and dies there.
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