"Ah! the 22d, are they? They have come up from Ronco, then?" "Yes, sir; they were all that General Soult could spare us." "Fine-looking fellows they are," said De Barre, scanning them through his glass. "The third company is a little, a very little to the rear--don't you perceive it?--and the flank is a thought or so restless and unsteady." "A sergeant has just been carried to the rear ill, sir," said a young officer, in a low voice. "The heat, I have no doubt; a '_colpo di sole_,' as they tell us everything is," said De Barre. "By the way, is not this the regiment that boasts the pretty vivandiere? What's this her name is?" "Lela, sir." "Yes, to be sure, Lela. I'm sure I've heard her toasted often enough at cafés and restaurants." "There she is, sir, yonder, sitting on the steps of the fountain;" and the officer made a sign with his sword for the girl to come over. She made an effort to arise at the order; but tottered back, and would have fallen if a soldier had not caught her. Then suddenly collecting her strength, she arranged the folds of her short scarlet jupe, and smoothing down the braids of her fair hair, came forward, at that sliding, half-skipping pace that is the wont of her craft. The exertion, and possibly the excitement had flushed her cheek; so that as she came forward her look was brilliantly handsome; but as the color died away, and a livid pallor spread over her jaws, lank and drawn in by famine, her expression was dreadful. The large eyes, lustrous and wild-looking, gleamed with the fire of fever, while her thin nostrils quivered at each respiration. Poor girl, even then, with famine and fever eating within her, the traits of womanly vanity still survived, and as she carried her hand to her cap in salute, she made a faint attempt at a smile. "The 22d may indeed be proud of their vivandiere," said De Barre, gallantly. "What hast in the 'tonnelet,' Lela?" continued he, tapping the little silver-hooped barrel she carried at her back. "Ah, _que voulez vous_?" cried she, laughing, with a low, husky sound, the laugh of famine. "I must have a glass of it to your health, ma belle Lela, if it cost me a crown piece," and he drew forth the coin as he spoke. "For such a toast, the liquor is quite good enough," said Lela, drawing back at the offer of money; while slinging the little cask in front, she unhooked a small silver cup, and filled it with water. "No brandy, Lela?" "None, colonel," said she, shaking her head, "and if I had, those poor fellows yonder would not like it so well." "I understand," said he, significantly, "theirs is the thirst of fever." A short, dry cough, and a barely perceptible nod of the head, was all her reply; but their eyes met, and any so sad an expression as they interchanged I never beheld! It was a confession in full of all each had seen of sorrow, of suffering, and of death. The terrible events three months of famine had revealed, and all the agonies of pestilence and madness.