s her wont, she thrust her nose through
the hedge and gave a mild whinny of welcome. Anon she saw that he
talked long and earnestly with her master Jacques, and presently she
saw that Jacques went into the cottage and came again therefrom with
his wife Justine and kissed her, and then went away with Pere Francois
toward the town off yonder. Felice saw that Justine was weeping, and
with never a suspicion of impending evil, she wondered why Justine
should weep when all was so prosperous and bright and fair and happy
about her. Felice saw and wondered, and meanwhile Petit-Poulain
scampered gayly about that velvety paddock.

That night the vineyard hills, bathed in the mellow grace of moonlight,
saw a sight they had never seen before. From the east an army came
riding and marching on,--an army of strange, determined men, speaking a
language before unheard in that fair country and threatening things of
which that peaceful valley had never dreamed. You and I, of course,
know that these were the Germans advancing upon France,--a nation of
immortals eager to destroy the possessions and the human lives of
fellow-immortals! But old Felice, hearing the din away off
yonder,--the unwonted noise of cavalry and infantry advancing with
murderous intent,--she did not understand it all, she did not even
suspect the truth. You cannot wonder, for what should a soulless beast
know of the noble, the human privilege of human slaughter? Old Felice
heard that strange din, and instinct led her to coax her little colt
from the pleasant paddock into that snug and secure retreat, the
thatched stable, and there, in the early morning, they found her,
Petit-Poulain pulling eagerly at her generous dugs.

Those who came riding up were strangers in those parts; they were
ominously accoutred and they spoke words that old Felice had never
heard before. Yes, as you have already guessed, they were German
cavalry-men. A battle was impending, and they needed more horses.

"Old enough; but in lieu of a better, she will do." That was what they
said. They approached her carefully, for they suspected that she might
be vicious. Poor old Felice, she had never harmed even the flies that
pestered her. "They are going to put me at the plough," she thought.
"It is a long time since I did work of any kind,--nothing, in fact,
since Petit-Poulain was born. Poor Petit-Poulain will miss me; but I
will soon return." With these thoughts she turned her head fo