chest with the fleur-de-lis carved on the side, which stands beneath the
bulgy leaded window.

As a grey and wretched dawn came in with a cold and dispiriting rain
there came to the ears of little Boudru the steady champing of marching
feet in the street below. Slush, slush, slush went all those feet,
beating the muddy road, and then the noise of metal on metal woke the
silent village streets as the guns went by.

"The soldiers! The soldiers!" exclaimed Boudru as he bounded over and
jumped on to the Jacobean chest to watch them pass. It was fated that
they were the last English soldiers that Boudru would ever see.

Some weeks later Boudru's mother was busy with odd jobs in the kitchen
garden and the children were playing in the front room, there was a ring
at the door and the sound of a butt-end of a rifle, as it "grounded" on
the cobble stones. When Boudru on tiptoe lifted the latch, the door
swung open, and a big man in a greenish uniform stood before him. There
was no sign of cap-badge or title on his shoulder straps, and he was
horribly dirty. He carried two English ration bags, besides his own
rucksack, and they were all filled to bursting with loot. Evil beamed
from his narrow, leering eyes; and when he smiled at Boudru it twirled
his demon-like mouth into a grotesque shape. He looked both depraved and
suspicious, a disreputable scoundrel with a gun, and that, you will find
in the fullness of time, was just what he was.

"Let us shut the door," said Elise. "This is not a pretty man." But the
man from Stettin pushed past.

"Brat;" said he, "drink."

Boudru's mother had hurried up to the door as fast as her bulk and her
stout legs would permit.

Every day she had expected a visit from the Huns. It was useless to
argue with such a man, so she took the German in.

"Brandy," said the man.

"There is only a little left ... it is over there, on the sideboard."

The soldier walked over, finished half a bottle, and announced that it
was like water.

"More," he ordered, "Shoot you if no find."

The woman at last managed to unearth a bottle of good Burgundy and
another bottle of brandy.

He drank both the bottles, and when he had finished, he asked for more
like every other Boche will do. Then he chose the front bedroom and
threw himself down on the bed in a drunken sleep.

When the next morning broke the French woman went to awaken the thief
and while the latter was making his toilet little Boudru entered.