dow--!"

"Light one!"

Every moment of time was now of value. Fevrier took the risk and lit
the match, shading it from the window so far as he could with his
hand.

"That will do."

Fevrier blew out the light. The cure had seen him, his uniform and his
features. He, too, had seen the cure, had noticed his thin emaciated
face, and the eyes staring out of it feverishly bright and
preternaturally large.

"Shall I tell you your malady, father?" he said gently. "It is
starvation."

"What will you, my son? I am alone. There is not a crust from one end
of Vaudere to the other. You cannot help me. Help France! Go to the
church, stand with your back to the door, turn left, and advance
straight to the churchyard wall. You will find a new grave there, the
rifles in the grave. Quick! There is a spade in the tower. Quick! The
rifles are wrapped from the damp, the cartridges too. Quick! Quick!"

Fevrier hurried downstairs, roused three of his soldiers, bade one of
them go from house to house and bring the soldiers in silence to the
churchyard, and with the others he went thither himself. In groups of
two and three the men crept through the street, and gathered about
the grave. It was already open. The spade was driven hard and quick,
deeper and deeper, and at last rang upon metal. There were seventy
chassepots, complete with bayonets and ammunition. Fifty-one were
handed out, the remaining nineteen were hastily covered in again.
Fevrier was immeasurably cheered to notice his men clutch at their
weapons and fondle them, hold them to their shoulders taking aim, and
work the breech-blocks.

"It is like meeting old friends, is it not, my children, or rather
new sweethearts?" said he. "Come! The Prussians may advance from
the Brasserie at Lanvallier, from Servigny, from Montay, or from
Noisseville, straight down the hill. The last direction is the most
likely, but we must make no mistake. Ten men will watch on the
Lanvallier road, ten on the Servigny, ten on the Montay, twenty will
follow me. March!"

An hour ago Lieutenant Fevrier was in command of fifty men who
slouched along with their hands in their pockets, robbed even of
self-respect. Now he had fifty armed and disciplined soldiers, men
alert and inspired. So much difference a chassepot apiece had made.
Lieutenant Fevrier was moved to the conception of another plan; and to
prepare the way for its execution, he left his twenty men in a house
at the Prussian end of Vaude