'The soldiers do not all keep step with one another; emotion, enthusiasm, the delights of going to thrash the Prussians, the natural sorrow at leaving those they love--a thousand different feelings. There is an old soldier, a decorated soldier next to me, who is very unsteady on his legs. A young officer, very young, almost beardless, puts his musket straight on the old fellow's shoulder every second. It is admirable to see the harmony which reigns between privates and officers. The Colonel, a grey-beard, salutes with his sword when the people cheer him; and a trumpeter in the front rank has stuck a great bouquet of roses to the banner of his instrument, and carries it as a priest carries the host. Other nosegays are thrust into the barrels of muskets. Bottles of wine show their corks from under the piles of knapsacks, and two or three dogs are stretched out on the haver-sacks in the baggage-waggons. The crowd cheers the dogs. 'All the peasants throng to see, shouting their applause to the regiment. Before the chemist's shop at the corner, a knot of young men wave their caps in the air; the chemist waves his white handkerchief; behind him I see the blue blouse of the old onion-seller, who lies unnoticed on the ground. 'All at once the music breaks out into the _Marseillaise_. '"Allons, enfans de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé!" 'Oh, how beautiful it all is! The soldiers fall into line. The populace, shouting and cheering, accompanies them to the station. Through the bars of the station-gates a private passes me his drinking-cup, and asks me to get it filled at the wine-shop in front of the gates. '"Wait; here is the money." 'But I do not wish for the brave fellow's money, I have a franc in my pocket. I will pay for his pint. In a moment I run back again. '"Thanks, young sir," says the soldier. "It is perhaps the last drop I shall ever drink." '"The last!" cries Léon, red as a turkey-cock; so proud is he to be able to rouse the spirit of a warrior. "The last? Ah! we shall give you floods of wine when you come back from victory." 'The townspeople, who are crowding round us, cheer. The soldier shakes his head dubiously. '"Thanks all the same," he says sadly. 'He does not seem very confident of success. '"Doubt that we shall be victorious?" says Léon in disgust as we go homeward. "Leave the town for the frontier with so little confidence! I would give--oh, what wouldn't I give?--to be old enough to go and beat the Prussians. My dear Jean, that soldier has no soul!" 'I am not sure. The soldier perhaps does not look on the campaign as a picnic. Perhaps he sees more clearly than we do? Perhaps? A great many things I had never thought of before crowd into my brain.'