"Yes, it does," said the girl, who had been contemplating the scene with dreamy eyes, scarcely speaking all the afternoon. "The French still wear the uniform of 1870," she added, half to herself; "a long bulky blue coat and red trousers." "Visible a mile away--while these fellows melt into the ground at a hundred yards! If Germany wins, it will be through forethought!" "But she cannot win!" protested the girl, fiercely. "She must not win!" "Well, all I can say is that France has a big job ahead!" "France will not stand alone! Already she has Russia as an ally; Belgium is doing what it can; Servia has a well-tried army. Nor are those all! England will soon find that she cannot afford to stand aside, and if there is need, other nations will come in--Portugal, Rumania, even Italy!" Stewart shook his head, skeptically. "I don't know," he said, slowly. "I know nothing about world-politics, but I don't believe any nation will come in that doesn't have to!" "That is it--all of them will find that they have to, for Prussian triumph means slavery for all Europe--for the Germans most of all. It is for them as much as for herself that France is fighting--for human rights everywhere--for the poor people who till the fields, and toil in the factories, and sweat in the mines! And civilization must fight with her against this barbarian state ruled by the upturned mustache and mailed fist, believing that might makes right and that she can do no wrong! That is why you and I are fighting on France's side!" "If nobody fights any harder than I----" She stopped him with a hand upon his arm. "Ah, but you are fighting well! One can fight in other ways than with a rifle--one can fight with one's brains." "It is your brains, not mine, which have done the fighting in this campaign," Stewart pointed out. "Where should I have been but for you? Dead, most probably, my message lost, my life-work shattered!" He placed his hand quietly over hers and held it fast. "Let us be clear, then," he said. "It is not for freedom, or for any abstract ideal I am fighting. It is for you--for your friendship, for your----" "No, it is for France," she broke in. "I am not worth fighting for--I am but one girl among many millions. And if we win--if we get through----" She paused, gazing out through the gathering darkness with starry eyes. "Yes--if we get through," he prompted. "It will mean more to France than many regiments!" and she struck the pocket which contained the letters. "Ah, we must get through--we must not fail!" She rose suddenly and stretched her arms high above her head. "Dear God, you will not let us fail!" she cried. Then she turned and held out a hand to him. "Come," she said, quietly; "if we are to get across, it must be before the moon rises." CHAPTER XIII THE PASSAGE OF THE MEUSE