eight
o'clock
I was up early in the morning , and with my elbows on the work-bench I watched the people pass by ; young men in blouses , poor old men in cotton caps and short vests ; old women in jackets and woollen skirts , bent almost double , with a staff or umbrella under their arms . They arrived by families . Monsieur the Sub-Prefect of Sarrebourg , with his silver collar , and his secretary , had stopped the day before at the `` Red Ox , '' and they were also looking out of the window . Toward eight o'clock , Monsieur Goulden began work , after breakfasting . I ate nothing , but stared and stared until Monsieur the Mayor Parmentier and his co-adjutor , came for Monsieur the Sub-Prefect . The drawing began at nine , and soon we heard the clarionet of Pfifer-Karl and the violin of big Andrès resounding through the streets . They were playing the `` March of the Swedes , '' an air to which thousands of poor wretches had left old Alsace for ever .