mp that covered the whole land, from
the hills to the Lisse, from the forest to the pastures above
Saint-Lys. There were no tents--the German army carried none.
Here and there a canvas-covered wagon glistened white in the
moonlight; the pale radiance fell on acres of stacked rifles, on
the brass rims of drums, and the spikes of the sentries' helmets.
Videttes, vaguely silhouetted on distant knolls, stood almost
motionless, save for the tossing of their horses' heads. Along
the river Lisse the infantry pickets lay, the sentinels,
patrolling their beats with brisk, firm steps, only pausing to
bring their heavy heels together, wheel squarely, and retrace
their steps, always alert and sturdy. The wind shifted to the
west and the faint chimes of Saint-Lys came quavering on the
breeze.

"The bells!" said Jack; "can you hear them?"

"Yes," said Lorraine, listlessly.

She had been very silent during their dinner. He wondered that
she had not shown any emotion at the sight of the invading
soldiers. She had not--she had scarcely even shown curiosity. He
thought that perhaps she did not realize what it meant, this
swarm of Prussians pouring into France between the Moselle and
the Rhine. He, American that he was, felt heartsick, humiliated,
at the sight of the spiked casques and armoured horsemen,
trampling the meadows of the province that he loved--the province
of Lorraine. For those strangers to France who know France know
two mothers; and though the native land is first and dearest, the
new mother, France, generous, tender, lies next in the hearts of
those whom she has sheltered.

So Jack felt the shame and humiliation as though a blow had been
struck at his own home and kin, and he suffered the more thinking
what his uncle must suffer. And Lorraine! His heart had bled for
her when the harsh treble of the little, flat Prussian drums
first broke out among the hills. He looked for the deep sorrow,
the patience, the proud endurance, the prouder faith that he
expected in her; he met with silence, even a distrait indifference.

Surely she could comprehend what this crushing disaster
prophesied for France? Surely she of all women, sensitive,
tender, and loyal, must know what love of kin and country meant?

Far away in the southwest the great heart of Paris throbbed in
silence, for the beautiful, sinful city, confused by the din of
the riffraff within her walls, blinded by lies and selfish
counsels, crouched in mute agony, li