aps and short vests; old women in jackets and woollen skirts,
bent almost double, with a staff or umbrella under their arms. They
arrived by families. Monsieur the Sub-Prefect of Sarrebourg, with his
silver collar, and his secretary, had stopped the day before at the
"Red Ox," and they were also looking out of the window. Toward eight
o'clock, Monsieur Goulden began work, after breakfasting. I ate
nothing, but stared and stared until Monsieur the Mayor Parmentier and
his co-adjutor, came for Monsieur the Sub-Prefect.

The drawing began at nine, and soon we heard the clarionet of
Pfifer-Karl and the violin of big Andres resounding through the
streets. They were playing the "March of the Swedes," an air to which
thousands of poor wretches had left old Alsace for ever. The
conscripts danced, linked arms, shouted until their voices seemed to
pierce the clouds, stamped on the ground, waved their hats, trying to
seem joyful while death was at their hearts. Well, it was the fashion;
and big Andres, withered, stiff, and yellow as boxwood, and his short
chubby comrade, with cheeks extended to their utmost tension, seemed
like people who would lead you to the church-yard all the while
chatting indifferently.

That music, those cries, sent a shudder through my heart.

I had just put on my swallow-tailed coat and my beaver hat, to go out,
when Aunt Gredel and Catharine entered, saying:

"Good-morning, Monsieur Goulden. We have come for the conscription."

Then I saw how Catharine had been crying. Her eyes were red, and she
threw her arms around my neck, while her mother turned to me.

Monsieur Goulden said:

"It will soon be the turn of the young men of the town."

"Yes, Monsieur Goulden," answered Catharine in a choking voice; "they
have finished Harberg."

"Then it is time for you to go, Joseph," said he; "but do not grieve;
do not be frightened. These drawings, you know, are only a matter of
form. For a long while past none can escape; for if they escape one
drawing, they are caught a year or two after. All the numbers are bad.
When the council of exemption meets, we will see what is best to be
done. To-day it is merely a sort of satisfaction they give the people
to draw in the lottery; but every one loses."

"No matter," said Aunt Gredel; "Joseph will win."

"Yes, yes," replied Monsieur Goulden, smiling, "he cannot fail."

Then I sallied forth with Catharine and Aunt Gredel, and we went to the
town sq