“‘Very well, my wife,’ said my father to my mother, ‘that proves that when one has to swim, one can swim. Jacques swam, because occupied with something besides his fear of water, he thought only of the end he wished to attain. I am sure that he is now cured of his former fright, and that with a few good lessons he will become a good swimmer. And to be a good swimmer is very useful: it enables one to save one’s self as well as others. Without this baby, Madame Brazon, without his courage and _sang-froid_, your child would have been lost.’ “‘My God!’ she cried. ‘And I thanked him with two blows!’ “‘Yes, papa,—two hard ones!’ “‘Madame Brazon,’ said my father, ‘kiss my son on the two cheeks that you treated so roughly. There is nothing like a kiss to repair an injury. When one is kissed, all wounds are cured.’” VII. “My story,” continued the General, “should not give the idea to children, or to grown persons either, that it is always wise to make an abrupt debut in the art of swimming, but it shows that the movements by the aid of which a man swims are as natural to him as to most animals, and that if suddenly forced to do so, he has no fear of wetting himself, and can, by not losing his head, and by thinking of frogs, cross a little river in safety. “If you have to make the effort to-night, remember this, and help one another. To leave a comrade behind is not a creditable proceeding. Many a time have I congratulated myself that I pulled little Brazon out of the water.” “Brazon! Brazon! General?” said the doctor. “But I have known someone of that name in the army,—a lieutenant-colonel, a strong, brave fellow. Wait! It was he whose arm I cut off after our expedition against the Beni-Raten. He was forced to retire—brave fellow!—after that. I shall always remember what he said to me when the operation was over: ‘Thanks, doctor. I regret my arm, but don’t regret the occasion that made me lose it.’” “And did he tell you,” said the General, “what that occasion was?” “Faith! no!” responded the doctor, “he needed sleep too badly.” “Very well, I will tell you,” continued the General, in a voice full of feeling. “I had had my horse killed under me and my leg broken. I should have been left to the mercy of the Kabyles, but he rescued me, took me on his shoulders, carried me to a place of safety, and only when this was done, discovered that during the trip a ball had shattered his elbow. Brazon lost his arm in saving my life. “The story I have just told you made us good friends. Uncle Antoine became interested in him, my father also: we were educated together, and have had more or less the same career. Poor Brazon! When he retired, he returned to ⸺ and lives in what used to be his father’s garden, opposite uncle Antoine’s ‘Garden of Roses.’ “Since then we have joined the two properties by a bridge, under which a boat can pass. When I retire, in my turn, I shall not have to swim to go and see my dear Auguste.” VIII.