ar Office."

"What is to come next?" said the countess, sighing, as she thought
of Paris once more deserted by its gay Court and brilliant crowd of
officers, the only society of the period.

"What next, Madame?" said Duchesne, taking up the word. "_Parbleu!_ the
thing is easily told. A conscription, a march, a bivouac, and a battle
will form act the first. Then a victory; and a bulletin and an imperial
edict, showing that Prussia, both by her language and geographical
position, was intended by Providence to belong to France; that Prussians
have no dearer wish than to be thrashed and taxed,--the honor of
becoming a portion of the Grande Nation being an ample recompense for
any misfortune."

"And so it is, Monsieur," broke in a bluff, hard-featured veteran, whose
coarse and weather-beaten traits bespoke one risen from the ranks; "he
is no Frenchman who says otherwise."

"To your good health, Colonel," said Duchesne, as he lifted a glass
of champagne to his lips. "Such patriotism is really refreshing in our
degenerate days. I wish you every success in your campaign; though what
is to reward your valor in that miserable land of beer and Protestantism
I cannot possibly conceive."

"To-morrow; let me see you to-morrow, in the afternoon." said
mademoiselle, in a whisper, as she passed close to me.

As I nodded in acknowledgment, Duchesne turned slightly around, and I
saw in his eyes he had overheard the words, though uttered in a mere
whisper. Still he went on,--

"As for us who remain ingloriously behind you, we have nothing to do but
to read your exploits in the 'Moniteur.' And would to Heaven the worthy
editor would print his battles in better fashion! The whole page usually
looks more like a beaten than a conquering army; wounded vowels and
broken consonants at every step, and the capital letters awkward,
hard-featured fellows, as though risen from the ranks."

"_Tonnerre de Dieu_, sir! do you mean an insult to me?" said the old
colonel, in a voice which, though intended for a whisper, was heard over
the whole circle.

"An insult, my dear colonel? nothing within a thousand leagues of
such. I was only speaking of the 'type' of our army, which may be very
efficient, but is scarcely too good-looking."

No words can convey the sarcastic tone in which the speech was
delivered, nor the mortification of the indignant colonel, who felt, but
knew not how to reply to, such a taunt. Happily Madame de Lacostellerie
interp