Just then the door of the next room opened, and little Charlot ran in. He must have heard his mother's voice; and now, simply clad in his shirt, he was coming to kiss her. Pink and fair, and very big for his age, he had a light curly crop of hair and large blue eyes. Silvine shuddered on seeing him appear so suddenly, as though startled by his resemblance to his father. Did she no longer know her own fondly loved child, that she thus gazed at him with an air of fright, as if face to face with some horrible vision? At last she burst into sobs. 'My poor little one!' she murmured. And then, like one distracted, she caught him in her arms and pressed him to her neck, whilst Honoré, turning livid, noted Charlot's remarkable likeness to Goliath. The child had the same fair, square-shaped head as his father; his healthy, infantile form, fresh cheeks, and smiling lips seemed typical of the German race. So this was the Prussian's son, 'the little Prussian,' as the jokers of Remilly called him! And there was his mother, pressing him to her bosom--his mother, this Frenchwoman, still overwhelmed, and with her heart lacerated by all that she had seen of the invasion! 'My poor little one, be good: go to bed again; go to by-by, my poor little fellow.'' Then she carried him away, and when she again returned she was no longer crying; she had once more recovered her calm, docile, courageous expression of countenance. It was Honoré who, in a trembling voice, resumed the conversation: 'And the Prussians?'