ntations of his friends, and the firing
of the platoon. He saw General Montaudon in tears. He was shaken with
emotion. But Jarras's next words fell upon him like cold water.

"You will parade your fifty men unarmed. You will march out of the
lines, and to-morrow morning as soon as it is light enough for the
Prussians to see you come unarmed you will desert to them. There are
too many mouths to feed in Metz[A]."

[Footnote A: See the Daily News War Correspondence, 1870.]

The Lieutenant had it on his lips to shout, "Then why not lead us out
to die?" But he kept silence. He could have flung his kepi in the
General's face; but he saluted. He went out again into the streets
and among the lighted cafes and reeled like a drunken man, thinking
confusedly of many things; that he had a mother in Paris who might
hear of his desertion before she heard of its explanation; that it was
right to claim obedience but _lache_ to exact dishonour--but chiefly
and above all that if he had been wise, and had made light of his
duty, and had come up to Metz to re-arrange the campaign with dominoes
on the marble-tables, he would not have been specially selected for
ignominy. It was true, it needed an obedient officer to desert! And
so laughing aloud he reeled blindly down to the gates of Metz. And
it happened that just by the gates a civilian looked after him, and
shrugging his shoulders, remarked, "Ah! But if we had a _Man_ at
Metz!"

From Metz Lieutenant Fevrier ran. The night air struck cool upon him.
And he ran and stumbled and fell and picked himself up and ran again
until he reached the Belletonge farm.

"The General," he cried, and so to the General a mud-plastered figure
with a white, tormented face was admitted.

"What is it?" asked Montaudon. "What will this say?"

Lieutenant Fevrier stood with the palms of his hands extended,
speechless like an animal in pain. Then he suddenly burst into tears
and wept, and told of the fine plan to diminish the demands upon the
commissariat.

"Courage, my old one!" said the General. "I had a fear of this. You
are not alone--other officers in other divisions have the same hard
duty," and there was no inflection in the voice to tell Fevrier what
his General thought of the duty. But a hand was laid soothingly upon
his shoulder, and that told him. He took heart to whisper that he had
a mother in Paris.

"I will write to her," said Montaudon. "She will be proud when she
receives the letter."