Our skirmishers were flung across, pressing northward. Our engineers swarmed upon the ruined bridge, rebuilding.... And one patrol of men turned aside, by the road that led toward the chateau. They went to solve this riddle, gentlemen. They went to discover who it was that had set there, the banner of France. They went carefully, one man ahead, others behind. They feared a trap; they did not understand.... I was with them. We came, thus, to a turn in the road; and we rounded it, and we saw our advance man at the halt, upon his horse, in the road ahead. Toward this man were marching, down the road from the chateau, four men. One of these men was tall, and strong, and bulky. And there was a scarf about his chest; and the scarf was red. Of the others, two marched proudly; two who had come unscathed through that hell where the chateau had stood. And the fourth, though there was a smeared bandage about his face and eyes, so that he held to the arm of Jacques Fontaine; this fourth man, my friends, held his head as high as any; and his shoulders were erect, and his steps were firm. It was this fourth man who bore, resting it against his hip and steadying it with his other hand, the flag. They came on, these four, heads high. And though they were haggard, and stained, and worn, the banner above them was unsullied and unsoiled.... As they came toward us, we could hear them singing, in cracked and hoarse voices. Singing those immortal words of Rouget de l’Isle.... When they came near our vidette, where he sat his horse so quietly, they halted. And I saw then that these men still wore the red trousers and the blue coats of their ancient uniforms, which they had preserved for this occasion through the years. And we were all very still as we listened so that we heard the vidette challenge, in a ringing voice: “Qui vive?” There was, for me, something splendidly symbolic in the scene. For to that challenge, those battered but unconquerable men gave answer with one voice, one word. “Qui vive?” the vidette challenged. And the four answered hoarsely: “France!” THE RIGHT WHALE’S FLUKES ’Ware th’ sparm whale’s jaw, an’ th’ right whale’s flukes! --_Old Whaling Maxim._ I