the terrace. I
had to laugh as I looked down at him.

"And why does madame laugh?" he asked, trying to keep a sober
face himself.

"Well," I replied, "I am only wondering if that is your battle array?"

"Certainly," he answered. "Why does it surprise you?"

I looked as serious as I could, as I explained that I had supposed,
naturally, that the cavalry went into action as lightly equipped as
possible.

He looked really indignant, as he snapped: "That would be quite
unnatural. What do you suppose that Peppino and I are going to do
after a battle? Wait for the commissary department to find us? No,
madame, after a battle it will not be of my mother nor home, nor even
of you, that we will be thinking. We shall think of something to eat and
drink." Then he added, with a laugh, "Alas! We shan't have all these
nice things you have given us. They will have been eaten by
tomorrow."

I apologized, and said I'd know better another time, and he patted his
horse, as he backed away, and said to him: "Salute the lady,
Peppino, and tell her prettily that you had the honor of carrying Teddy
Roosevelt the day he went to the review." And the horse pawed and
bowed and neighed, and his rider wheeled him carefully as he saluted
and said: "Au revoir, I shall write, and, after the war, I shall give
myself the pleasure of seeing you," and he rode carefully out of the
gate--a very delicate operation, as only half of it was open. Laden
as the horse was, he just made it, and away he galloped down the
hill to Voisins, where the cavalry was assembling.

I stayed in the window a few minutes to wave a goodbye to the men
as they led each their three horses down the hill. Then I put on my
heaviest coat, a polo cap, all my furs and mittens, thrust my felt shoes
into my sabots, and with one hand in my muff, I took the big French
flag in the other and went through the snow down to the hedge to
watch the regiment pass, on the road to Esbly.

Even before I got out of the house the news came that the 118th
Regiment of infantry, the boys who retook Vaux in the great battle at
Verdun, had been marching in from Meaux, and were camped,
waiting to take up the billets the 23d Dragoons were vacating.

I stood in the snow for nearly half an hour, holding up the heavy flag,
which flapped bravely in the icy wind, and watching the long grey line
moving slowly along the road below. I could see half a mile of the line
--grey, steel-helmeted men, packed horses,