it does us. As a matter of fact, things are not so
very bad here just now, because the soldiers do no harm, and work just as
if they were in their own homes. You see, sir, poor folk always help one
another; it is the great ones of this world who make war."

Cornudet indignant at the friendly understanding established between
conquerors and conquered, withdrew, preferring to shut himself up in the
inn.

"They are repeopling the country," jested Loiseau.

"They are undoing the harm they have done," said Monsieur Carre-Lamadon
gravely.

But they could not find the coach driver. At last he was discovered in
the village cafe, fraternizing cordially with the officer's orderly.

"Were you not told to harness the horses at eight o'clock?" demanded the
count.

"Oh, yes; but I've had different orders since."

"What orders?"

"Not to harness at all."

"Who gave you such orders?"

"Why, the Prussian officer."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Go and ask him. I am forbidden to harness the horses, so I
don't harness them--that's all."

"Did he tell you so himself?"

"No, sir; the innkeeper gave me the order from him."

"When?"

"Last evening, just as I was going to bed."

The three men returned in a very uneasy frame of mind.

They asked for Monsieur Follenvie, but the servant replied that on
account of his asthma he never got up before ten o'clock. They were
strictly forbidden to rouse him earlier, except in case of fire.

They wished to see the officer, but that also was impossible, although he
lodged in the inn. Monsieur Follenvie alone was authorized to interview
him on civil matters. So they waited. The women returned to their rooms,
and occupied themselves with trivial matters.

Cornudet settled down beside the tall kitchen fireplace, before a blazing
fire. He had a small table and a jug of beer placed beside him, and he
smoked his pipe--a pipe which enjoyed among democrats a
consideration almost equal to his own, as though it had served its
country in serving Cornudet. It was a fine meerschaum, admirably colored
to a black the shade of its owner's teeth, but sweet-smelling, gracefully
curved, at home in its master's hand, and completing his physiognomy. And
Cornudet sat motionless, his eyes fixed now on the dancing flames, now on
the froth which crowned his beer; and after each draught he passed his
long, thin fingers with an air of satisfaction through his long, greasy
hair, as he sucked the foam from his