The manifold excitements of the next few days put aside for the time all graver thoughts. The unpretending carriage of the De Talmonts mingled with a continuous stream of other vehicles on their way to the Plaine des Vertus, and the striking and amusing sights afforded by the journey were almost sufficient to turn the brain, of Stéphanie at least. But the grand review itself confused and bewildered the imaginations of far more experienced spectators. “Do not ask me what I think of it,” said Madame de Salgues in the evening, when at last a happy, weary, excited party sat down to rest in their hotel. “I feel as if for a whole year at least I had not been myself, but some one else, and had been living amidst glare and glitter, bright colours and splendid uniforms. Such masses of men moving as one--such glorious martial music!--such deafening thunder of artillery!--I could not have dreamed of anything like it.” Emile whistled softly to himself. “It has made my grandmother quite poetical,” he said. “That is not wonderful,” remarked Madame de Talmont. “It was indeed the poetry of war.” “Yes,” said Henri thoughtfully; “and if _I_ had not been forced to read the stern and rugged prose, I should have looked at it with other eyes. But all the time I could not help thinking how many gallant men like those I had seen die in misery.” “But did you know what they were doing at the end?” asked Emile. “That last tremendous charge, that made all the ladies start and change colour, was what is called a charge in line. It was right well done too, though it has long been thought no one could manage it except the English. With such material, and under such leadership, nothing is impossible. With an army like that,” he added a little sadly, “Napoleon would conquer the world.” Just then Ivan came in to pay his friends a short visit, and to see that they were comfortably accommodated. Many were the compliments addressed to him and the questions asked of him, especially by Emile. “The discipline of your army seems admirable,” said he. “I should like to know how it is managed.” “Like all other discipline worth the name,” Ivan answered; “by justice and mercy. The Czar knows how to punish, though he loves to pardon.” “Of course he must punish sometimes; but one does not hear of it.” “He knows how to punish in ways you could not hear of. A word, a look, silence even, he can make a terrible punishment. But this power he rarely uses. I have heard it said that he ‘can annihilate a man without touching him;’ but I have never seen him do it, and I hope I never shall.” “Nor I either,” said Emile. “I know of _one_ reproof he administered. One of our colonels failed to have his regiment ready at the time appointed for reviewing it. He received a severe reprimand, and was broken-hearted. The Czar saw it, sought him out afterwards, and comforted him, telling him that ‘it was not for one mistake the faithful services of years could be forgotten.’”