usual; the normal lassitude of her features was full of gentleness; her
eyelids were rosy as roses. Then she smiled weakly and said, "There
are some young men of eighteen who've enlisted, but only for the
duration of the war. They've done right; that'll be useful to them all
ways later in life."

* * * * * *

On Monday we hung about the house till four o'clock, when I left it to
go to the Town Hall, and then to the station.

At the Town Hall a group of men, like myself, were stamping about.
They were loaded with parcels in string; new boots hung from their
shoulders. I went up to mix with my new companions. Tudor was topped
by an artilleryman's cap. Monsieur Mielvaque was bustling about,
embarrassed--exactly as at the factory--by the papers he held in his
hand; and he had exchanged his eyeglasses for spectacles, which stood
for the beginning of his uniform. Every man talked about himself, and
gave details concerning his regiment, his depot, and some personal
peculiarity.

"I'm staying," says the adjutant master-at-arms, who rises impeccably
in his active service uniform, amid the bustle and the neutral-tinted
groups; "I'm not going. I'm the owner of my rank, and they haven't got
the right to send me to join the army."

We waited long, and some hours went by. A rumor went round that we
should not go till the next day. But suddenly there was silence, a
stiffening up, and a military salute all round. The door had just
opened to admit Major de Trancheaux.

The women drew aside. A civilian who was on the lookout for him went
up, hat in hand, and spoke to him in undertones.

"But, my friend," cried the Major, quitting the importunate with a
quite military abruptness, "it's not worth while. In two months the
war will be over!"

He came up to us. He was wearing a white band on his cap.

"He's in command at the station," they say.

He gave us a patriotic address, brief and spirited. He spoke of the
great revenge so long awaited by French hearts, assured us that we
should all be proud, later, to have lived in those hours, thrilled us
all, and added, "Come, say good-by to your folks. No more women now.
And let's be off, for I'm going with you as far as the station."

A last confused scrimmage--with moist sounds of kisses and litanies of
advice--closed up in the great public hall.

When I had embraced Marie I joined these who were falling in near the
road. We went o