I have waited and watched many times since that day, but never as I
then waited. With what agony I watched and prayed! how I lived
either before the altar, or at the window! how I seemed to be all
eyes and ears! How reports came that there was fighting, then that
we had the day, then that all was lost! Then came a calm, and it was
said that Marshal de l'Hospital had refused to fight, and was in full
retreat, with the Duke of Enghien cursing and swearing and tearing
his hair. My landlord had a visit from the mayor to say that he must
prepare to have some men billeted on him, and I sent out to inquire
for horses, but decided that, as it was only our own troops
retreating, there would be plenty of time. Then one of the maids of
the house rushed in declaring that firing was plainly to be heard.
Half the people were out in the streets, many more had gone outside
the city to listen. Tryphena sat crying with fright, and rocking the
baby in her lap, and wishing she had never come to this dreadful
country. Alas! poor Tryphena she would have been no better off in
her own at that moment! I ran from window to door, unable to rest a
moment, listening to the cries in the streets, asking the landlady
what she heard, and then running back to my own room to kneel in
prayer, but starting up at the next sound in the streets.
At last, just before sunset, on that long, long 19th of May, all the
bells began to ring, clashing as if mad with joy, and a great roaring
shout burst out all over the city: 'Victory! Victory! Vive le Roi!
Vive le Duc d'Enghien!'
I was at the window just in time to see a party of splendid horsemen,
carrying the striped and castellated colours of Spain, galloping
through the town, followed by universal shouts and acclamations.
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