l in 1806, this atmosphere of victory and
conquest--it was this more than anything we could say to him that made
him accept so naively the siege of Berlin.

After that day, our military operations grew simpler and simpler.
Nothing but a little patience was needed in order to take Berlin. Every
little while, when the old gentleman grew listless, we read him a
letter from his son, an imaginary letter of course, as Paris was by now
cut off, and as since Sedan, the aide-de-camp of Mac Mahon had been
sent to a German fortress.

You can easily imagine the despair of the poor child who heard nothing
from her father, knowing that he was a prisoner, deprived of even
comfort and perhaps sick, while she had to write letters in his name
that were full of joy, brief indeed, such as a soldier would write from
the field, a soldier advancing day by day through the enemy's country.
Sometimes it was too much for her, and weeks went by without a letter.
The old man began to worry and to be unable to sleep. Then presto! a
letter from Germany would arrive, and she would read it gayly at her
grandfather's bedside, holding back her tears.

The old colonel would listen gravely, smile knowingly, approve,
criticize, and explain to us any passage which seemed confused. But it
was in the replies that he made to his son that he was magnificent.
"Never forget that you are French," he wrote. "Be generous to the poor
Germans. Don't let them suffer more than is inevitable from the
invasion of their country." And then came suggestions without end,
charming, moralizing on property rights, the courtesy due to women, a
veritable code of honor for conquerors. All this was interwoven with
reflections on politics and discussions of the peace terms. On this
last point he was not unduly exacting. "Indemnity, and nothing
more--what good would their provinces be to us? A France could never be
made out of a Germany." He dictated that in a firm voice, and one could
not hear him without emotion, there was so much sincerity, so beautiful
a patriotism in what he said.

Meanwhile, the siege was progressing--not the siege of Berlin,
unfortunately! We had reached the period of severe cold, the
bombardment, the epidemics, the famine. But thanks to our efforts, to
the infinite tenderness which enfolded him, the serenity of the old old
man was never troubled. To the end, I was able to get white bread and
fresh meat for him--for him alone, of course. You can't imagine
a