"Mademoiselle," he said, "I cannot, as a man of honor, stay here longer. I love you,--there, I have said it,--but I am penniless, and after the war shall have only what I can earn. Your father, on the other hand, is the most important merchant in this district--so you see it would (even if you were willing) be quite impossible for me to ask for your hand. I can never thank you enough for your kindness to a poor soldier; it has given me a glimpse of Paradise." That evening, as he sat in his room, trying to make up an excuse to give the old people for leaving, the girl's mother came in, saying that she understood he was going, and was much hurt to think that her house had not pleased him. Then the old gentleman rushed in, radiant with smiling good humor. "But hush, maman," he cried, "I know all. Also I know a man when I see one. You love our little A----, eh, sergeant? Well, what of it? And you are poor--well, what of that? When we old ones are gone, she will have everything--she is all we have, since Louis was killed at the Marne. You are a type that I love, my boy--out there at the front, helping to push the Boche out of France; do you suppose I would not rather have you for a son-in-law than some sacré espèce of a rich embusqué, riding by in his limousine?" Rather superb, I think. So, as an engaged man, he is making a poor attempt to be cautious. Also, he has a frightful case of cafard, that mysterious malady of the trenches, which is nothing but concentrated homesickness and longing for the sight of one's women folk, sweethearts, sisters, mothers. A couple of days ago, he came to me with a brilliant idea. "See, Charlot," he said, "I have a scheme. You know Lieutenant P----, chief of the corps franc--tell him of me, that I can speak German and can take prisoners, and tell him to ask my captain to detach me for the next coup de main." To understand this, you must know that a coup de main is a raid, made after a brief artillery preparation, on the enemy trenches, not with the idea of gaining ground, but simply to get a few prisoners for information regarding regiments, and so forth. In the French army such raids are made by special selected companies of each regiment, who have no routine duty and get eight days' special leave after each raid that results in prisoners. These men are termed "corps franc." As you can see, Jean thought this a quick way to get back to his fiancée.