About three years previously she had lost her husband, the Marquis of O . . . , to whom she had been deeply and dearly attached, on a trip he took to Paris on family business. Heeding the express wishes of Madame von G . . . , her worthy mother, she left the country estate in V . . . , where she had lived until then, and moved back with her two children to her father’s quarters in the commandant’s residence. Here she had spent the next few years in the greatest seclusion, engaged in art, reading, the education of her children and the care of her parents, until, on account of the . . . War, the region was suddenly teeming with the troops of all the warring powers, including the Russians. Colonel von G . . . , who was in charge of the citadel’s defense, ordered his wife and daughter to take refuge at the latter’s country estate, or at that of his son, also in V . . . . But before considerations of the dangers of remaining in the fortress could be fully apprehended by female intuition and weighed against the atrocities they might face in the country, the citadel was surrounded by Russian troops and ordered to surrender. The colonel informed his family that he would now have to act as if they were not there, and replied to the Russians’ demand with bullets and grenades. The enemy likewise bombarded the citadel. They set the arms depot on fire, scaled an outer wall, and when the commandant wavered in the face of a repeated call for capitulation, ordered an attack at nightfall and stormed the fortress.

Just as the Russian troops came pouring in, backed by heavy howitzer fire, the left wing of the commandant’s quarters caught fire, obliging the women to flee. Rushing along behind the marquise and her children, the commandant’s wife cried out that they had best stick together and take refuge on the lower floors; but at that very moment a grenade exploded in the house, causing total chaos. The marquise and her two children stumbled out into the front yard, where shots had been ringing out all night long through the thick of battle, chasing the poor, bewildered woman back into the burning building. Here, unfortunately, wanting to slip out again through the rear door, she ran into a troop of enemy sharpshooters, who, at the sight of her, suddenly went silent, slung their rifles over their shoulders, and with the crudest gestures dragged her away. The marquise cried out in vain to her trembling ladies-in-waiting, who shrank back, as she found herself dragged along now here, now there by the terrible rabble, who were fighting among themselves.