ilable allies, preparing for the next murder which would bring
them together.

"For two days they lived on this human flesh which they divided between
them. Then, becoming famished again, he who had killed the first man
began killing afresh. And again, like a butcher, he cut up the corpse and
offered it to his comrades, keeping only his own portion of it.

"And so this retreat of cannibals continued.

"The last Frenchman, Pobeguin, was massacred at the side of a well, the
very night before the supplies arrived.

"Do you understand now what I mean by the horrible?"

This was the story told us a few nights ago by General de
G----.

MADAME PARISSE

I was sitting on the pier of the small port of Obernon, near the village
of Salis, looking at Antibes, bathed in the setting sun. I had never
before seen anything so wonderful and so beautiful.

The small town, enclosed by its massive ramparts, built by Monsieur de
Vauban, extended into the open sea, in the middle of the immense Gulf of
Nice. The great waves, coming in from the ocean, broke at its feet,
surrounding it with a wreath of foam; and beyond the ramparts the houses
climbed up the hill, one after the other, as far as the two towers, which
rose up into the sky, like the peaks of an ancient helmet. And these two
towers were outlined against the milky whiteness of the Alps, that
enormous distant wall of snow which enclosed the entire horizon.

Between the white foam at the foot of the walls and the white snow on the
sky-line the little city, dazzling against the bluish background of the
nearest mountain ranges, presented to the rays of the setting sun a
pyramid of red-roofed houses, whose facades were also white, but so
different one from another that they seemed to be of all tints.

And the sky above the Alps was itself of a blue that was almost white, as
if the snow had tinted it; some silvery clouds were floating just over
the pale summits, and on the other side of the gulf Nice, lying close to
the water, stretched like a white thread between the sea and the
mountain. Two great sails, driven by a strong breeze, seemed to skim over
the waves. I looked upon all this, astounded.

This view was one of those sweet, rare, delightful things that seem to
permeate you and are unforgettable, like the memory of a great happiness.
One sees, thinks, suffers, is moved and loves with the eyes. He who can
feel with the eye experiences the same keen, exquisite and deep