ructions
relating to National Defence and Mobilisation.

This office communicates on one side with the office of statistics,
and on the opposite side with a sitting-room, soberly furnished with
arm-chairs and sofas covered with green velvet; on the walls is a
green paper; one picture only adorns this solemn reception-room, whose
doors are tightly closed to air and sound--the portrait of the
president of the Republic. Here are received visitors of mark, who
have information of the highest importance to communicate. Here
conversations can be freely carried on, for thick window curtains,
door curtains and carpet deaden sound.

At the extreme end of the corridor is the office of the
commander-in-chief, Colonel Hofferman. At once elegantly and
comfortably furnished, this office is quite unlike the others: there
is more of the individual than the official here. An array of
telephones keeps the colonel in touch with the various departments of
the Ministry, with the Municipality, with the Governor of Paris. In a
recess is a telegraphic installation.

This able infantry officer is a man of great distinction. He has
directed the delicate service of "statistics" with much tact and
discretion for the past three years. His fair complexion, blue eyes,
blonde hair betray his Alsatian origin. This handsome bachelor,
verging on the fifties, is very much a man of the world, is received
in the most exclusive sets, and has been known to carry on the most
intimate conversations with charming ladies in his office. Was the
subject of these talks National Defence? Who knows?

* * * * *

In the officers' room there was animated talk.

"Then it is an artilleryman again?" asked Lieutenant Armandelle, a
regular colossus with a brick-red complexion, who had passed long
years in Africa at the head of a detachment of Zouaves.

Captain Loreuil was sharpening a pencil. He stopped, and, throwing
himself back in his chair, replied with a smile:

"No, my dear fellow, this time it is to be a sapper." Looking over his
spectacles he softly hummed the old refrain of Therese:

"_Nothing is as sacred to a sapper!_"

Armandelle burst out laughing.

"Ah, my boy, come what will, you meet it with a smile!"

"By Jove, old man, why be gloomy?" answered the lively captain. "We
can only live once! Let us make the best use of our time, then! Why
not be jolly?"

Judging by his looks, Captain Loreuil had followed his own