She made two steps into the room, stopped short, and said in a deep voice: “The poor things!” Every one in the ward opened his eyes and pricked up his ears. Mery put down his pipe; Tarrissant changed his crutches from one hand to the other, which, with him, is a sign of emotion; Domenge and Burnier stopped playing and pressed their cards against their bodies to hide them. Poupot did not move, because he is paralysed, but one could easily see that he was listening with all his might. The lady in green went first to Sorri, the negro. “Your name is Sorri?” she asked, reading his card. The negro moved his head; the lady in green went on in a voice as sweet and melodious as an actress: “You have come to fight for France, Sorri; and you have left your beautiful country--the fresh and smiling oasis in an ocean of burning sand. Ah, Sorri! how beautiful are the African evenings, at the hour when the young woman returns along the avenue of palm trees, carrying on her head an aromatic pitcher full of honey and cocoanut milk!” The officers murmured their appreciation, and Sorri, who understands French, repeated, nodding his head, “Cocoa! cocoa!” Already the lady in green was gliding away over the tiled floor. She came to Rabot, and sat down on the end of his bed, like a swallow on a telegraph wire. “Rabot,” she said, “you are a brave man!” Rabot did not answer; but in his usual way he blinked his eyes, like a child who fears a blow. “Ah, Rabot!” said the lady in green, “what gratitude do we not owe you, who have guarded safely for us our dear France! But, Rabot, you have already gained the great reward. Glory! The joy of battle! The exquisite agony of plunging forward, your bayonet shining in the sun! The pleasure of plunging the iron of vengeance into the bleeding side of the enemy! And then the suffering--divine suffering to be endured for the sake of all; the sacred wound which, of a hero, makes a god! Ah! wonderful memories, Rabot!” The lady in green ceased, and a religious silence reigned in the ward. Then something unexpected happened. Rabot stopped looking like himself. All his features contracted, changing in an almost tragic way. A hoarse noise burst forth in spasms from his fleshless chest, and all the world realised that Rabot was laughing. He laughed for over three-quarters of an hour. Long after the lady in green had gone, Rabot was still laughing--in fits, as one coughs, with a rattling noise. After that the life of Rabot changed a little. When he was on the verge of tears and misery one could sometimes distract his attention and get a little laugh out of him if one said at the right moment: “Rabot! they are going to bring the lady in green to see you.” IN THE VINEYARD