I came down and went into the dining room.  There were the mutton
and the bread, both far gone now in decay, and a beer bottle
overturned, just as I and the artilleryman had left them.  My home was
desolate.  I perceived the folly of the faint hope I had cherished so
long.  And then a strange thing occurred.  "It is no use," said a
voice.  "The house is deserted.  No one has been here these ten days.
Do not stay here to torment yourself.  No one escaped but you."

I was startled.  Had I spoken my thought aloud?  I turned, and the
French window was open behind me.  I made a step to it, and stood
looking out.