Fouchard had ended by stationing himself behind Jean, astonished to see what a prodigious quantity of bread and cheese the corporal managed to put away. 'You feel better now, eh?' he remarked, in a bantering fashion. Jean raised his head, and with the same peasant-like air replied: 'A little, thanks.' Meanwhile, despite his intense hunger, Honoré every now and then ceased eating, and turned his head to listen as if he fancied he could hear some sound or other. If, after a fight with himself, he had broken his oath that he would never again set foot in that house, it was solely on account of the irresistible desire he experienced to see Silvine once more. Under his shirt, against his very skin, he preserved the letter he had received from her at Rheims, that tender letter in which she told him that she still loved him, and that she would never love anyone else, despite all the cruel past, despite Goliath, despite even little Charlot,[25] the Prussian's son and her own. And now Honoré had thoughts only for her, and felt anxious at not having yet seen her, though he strove to hide his anxiety from his father. Passion, however, won the day, and at last, endeavouring to speak in a natural voice, he inquired: 'And Silvine--is she still with you?' Fouchard glanced askance at his son, his eyes glittering with inward merriment: 'Yes, yes,' he answered. Then he relapsed into silence and began spitting; and the artilleryman, after a pause, was forced to resume: 'She's in bed, then?' 'No, no.' At last, however, the old man condescended to explain that, in spite of what was happening, he had driven to Raucourt market that morning in his cart, taking the girl with him. Soldiers might be passing along the roads, but surely that was no reason why people should cease eating meat, or why he should neglect his business. So, as was his habit every Tuesday, he had driven to Raucourt with a sheep and some beef, and was just finishing his sales when the Seventh Corps made its appearance, and he speedily found himself in the midst of a frightful hubbub. Soldiers were running about hustling everybody, and fearing that some of them might steal his horse and cart, he had taken himself off, leaving Silvine behind; she, it appeared, was away at the time, carrying meat to some customers in the town. 'Oh! she'll find her way back sure enough,' he added: 'she must have taken refuge at Dr. Dalichamp, her godfather's--she's a brave girl, although she only seems to know how to obey--she has her qualities, certainly she has.' Was he jeering? Was he desirous of explaining why he still retained the services of that girl, the cause of his quarrel with his son, and this, despite the child, from whom she refused to be parted? Again did Fouchard give Honoré a sidelong glance, and laugh inwardly as he added, 'Charlot's in there, asleep in her room; so it's certain she won't be very long coming.'