“I did not know you had a fellow-traveller, Father.” “Yes; we met in the Creutz Mountains, and since that» have wended our way together. A soldier--” “A soldier! Is he wounded, then?” “No, my child; he is leaving the army.” “Leaving the army, and not wounded! He is old and disabled, perhaps.” “Neither; he is both young and vigorous.” “Shame on him, then, that he turn his back on fame and fortune, and leave the path that brave men tread! He never was a soldier! No, Father; he in whose heart the noble passion once has lived can never forget it.” “Hush, child, hush!” said the priest, motioning with his hand to her to be silent. “Let me look on him!” said the vivandière, as she stooped down and took from the hearth a piece of lighted wood; “let me see this man, and learn the features of one who can be so craven of spirit, so poor of heart, as to fly the field, while thousands are flocking towards it.” Burning with shame and indignation, I arose, just as she approached me. The pine-branch threw its red gleam over her bright uniform, and then upon her face. “Minette! Minette!” I exclaimed. But with a wild shriek she let fall the burning wood, and fell senseless to the ground. It was some time before, with all our care, she recovered consciousness; and even then, in her wild, excited glance, one might read the struggles of her mind to credit what had occurred. A few broken, unconnected phrases would escape her at intervals; and she seemed laboring to regain the lost clew to her recollections, when again she turned her eyes towards me. At the same instant, the trumpet sounded without for the _réveil_, and was answered by many a call from other parties around. With a steadfast gaze of wonderment she fixed her look on me; and twice passed her hands across her eyes, as though she doubted the evidence of her senses. [Illustration: 346] “Minette, hear me! let me speak but one word.” “There it is again,” cried she, as the blast rang out a second time, and the clatter of horsemen resounded from the street. “Adieu, sir; our roads lie not together. Father, your blessing; if your good counsel this night has not made its way to my heart, the lesson has come elsewhere. Good-by! good-by!” She pressed the old man's hand to her lips, and darted from the room. Stunned, and like one spell-bound, I could not move for a few seconds; and then, with a wild cry, I bounded after her through the garden. The wicket, however, was fastened on the outside, and it was some time before I could scale the wall and reach the street.