“Oui, M’sieu. Un soldat. M’sieu will perhaps refrain from putting many questions. It is a friend whom I have known from boyhood. He was taken, like others, in the conscription, and no kind Messieurs were at hand to help to buy him off. And his mother, M’sieu, his poor mother became _imbécile_.[1] La pauvre femme? See what might have come to my mother also, but for the goodness of _ces Messieurs_.” “She became _imbécile_ because he had to go to the war?” “Oui, M’sieu. What wonder? For see—it was not a common parting. Hundreds, thousands, go thus, and never return. They vanish from their homes, and no more is heard of them. Here or there, far away, they have died and have been buried—_hélas!_—and that is the end.” “A soldier’s end, Jean!” the boy said proudly. “Oui, M’sieu. Sans doute. But not all men have a taste for soldiering. I myself, for one——” “You didn’t want to fight?” “I had no wish to leave my home, M’sieu. Of late, it is true, I have had other thoughts—some thoughts of entering the army, after all. Le petit Caporal is no such bad leader for a man to follow, when he is not held by ties which bind him down.” “But your mother, what would she say? Would she be pleased? Did she mind your coming away now?” “M’sieu, I have not left my mother. It is she that has left me. Le bon Dieu has called her away to another place.” Roy gave one glance of sympathy, which he could not easily have put into words. He was forgetting himself, walking faster, and panting less. Jean saw that it might be well to encourage a little talking now and then. “But till the last she had her Jean. And she was content. She did not die alone, forsaken and desolate. For that I shall be eternally grateful to _ces deux Messieurs_, that her last days were in peace.” “I remember now, Jean, you said you would like some day to do something for my father and for Captain Ivor. Yes—I know—and this is for them. If they could thank you——” “M’sieu, if I could thank them——” interjected Jean. Then for a while they pressed on in silence. Morning had begun to break, and they plodded forward still. Roy had pleaded for one more little break, for the boy was nearly at an end of his powers; but Jean refused. “_Courage_, M’sieu! _Courage!_ But a little farther, and we will rest. To stop here, if the gendarmes come quickly, would be fatal. Does M’sieu wish to be re-taken? See, the day dawns, and we have made good advance; but soon the gendarmes will scour the country round. And here, where could we hide, if overtaken? _Courage!_ A little further yet!” “All right,” panted Roy, dragging along his leaden-weighted limbs. “I’ll keep it up—as long as you wish. Wonder how many miles we’ve done.” “Not so many as M’sieu would think. In the darkness one must walk with care.” “And are we to hide all day?”