The streets were piled with grain on which the soldiers had slept, and on the sidewalks in front of the better class of houses tables around which the officers had eaten still remained, the bottles half empty, the food half eaten.
In a chateau beyond Neufchelles the doors and windows were open and lace curtains were blowing in the breeze.

From the garden you could see paintings on the walls, books on the tables.

Outside, on the lawn, surrounded by old and charming gardens, apparently the general and his staff had prepared to dine.

The table was set for a dozen, and on it were candles in silver sticks, many bottles of red and white wine, champagne, liqueurs, and coffee-cups of the finest china.
From their banquet some alarm had summoned the officers.

The place was as they had left it, the coffee untasted, the candles burned to the candlesticks, and red stains on the cloth where the burgundy had spilled.