Years passed; but I had not forgotten my family; I confess, however, that I did not want to return to them except with an honorable rank; I had the hope of obtaining it, and this decoration already made my heart beat more peaceably, when suddenly events changed their aspect. Relegated to the civilian class, I thought that an honorable and gallant soldier could not make his parents blush, and I went to Paris to find them. There I learned of their death! That was a cruel blow! But the icy welcome, the cold and contemptuous tone of my brother, put the finishing touch to the laceration of my heart! It is all over, Sans-Souci, he will never see me again, the ingrate; he will never hear my name again! Thus did Jacques bring to a close the story of his adventures, and a tear glistened in his eye during the last portion of his narrative; that tear was for his brother, whom he still loved, despite the way in which he had received him. It was dark; Jacques’s story had taken longer than he had at first supposed it would, and Sans-Souci had listened to it with so much interest that he had not realized that the dinner hour had long since passed. But when his comrade had finished, he rose, shook his head, and tapped his stomach, as he glanced at his companion. “Have you told me the whole, comrade?” “Yes.” “Well then, forward!” “What for? Where do you mean to go?” “No matter where, so long as it is some place where there is something to eat.” “Ah! you’re hungry, are you?” “Yes, ten thousand cartridges! And terribly hungry too! My stomach doesn’t thrive on adventures. Still, yours have amused me very much; but since you stopped talking, I feel that I need something solid.” “Do you want me to begin again?” “No, no! I want you to come with me.” “But where shall we go?” “Come on; forward!” Jacques and his comrade started across the fields. They could not see very clearly and they did not know which direction to take. Jacques did not say a word, Sans-Souci sang and swore alternately, frequently cursing the hedges and bushes which barred their path. At last, after walking for an hour, they spied a light. “Forward toward the light!” said Sans-Souci, doubling his pace; “they must give us some supper.” “Have you any money, Sans-Souci?” “Not a sou; and you?” “No more than you.” “No matter, let us go on all the same.” They approached the building from which the light came; it seemed to be large enough for a farm-house, but it was too dark to distinguish objects plainly. Sans-Souci felt his way forward and began to knock with all the strength of his feet and hands at the first door that he found. In vain did Jacques urge him to make less noise; Sans-Souci was dying of hunger, and he listened to nothing but his stomach, which shouted as loud as himself.