Of course I had resumed my old habit of going to Quatre Vents on Sundays. On these mornings I was always awake early--I do not know what roused me. At first I thought I was a soldier again; this made me shiver. Then I would open my eyes, look at the ceiling, and think, "Why you are at home with Father Goulden, at Pfalzbourg, in your own little room. To-day is Sunday, and you are going to see Catherine." By this time I was wide awake, and could see Catherine with her blooming cheeks and blue eyes. I wanted to get up at once and dress myself and set off. But the clocks had just struck four, and the city gates were still shut. I was obliged to wait, and this annoyed me very much. In order to keep patience I began to recall our courtship, remembering the first days, how we feared the conscription and the drawing of the unlucky number, with its "fit for service;" the old guard Werner, at the mayor's, the leave-taking, the journey to Mayence, and the broad Capougnerstrasse where the good woman gave me a foot-bath, Frankfort and Erfurth farther on, where I received my first letter, two days before the battle, the Russians, the Prussians--everything in fact--and then I would weep, but the thought of Catherine was always uppermost. When the clock struck five I jumped from my bed, washed and shaved and dressed myself, then Father Goulden, still behind his big curtains, would put out his nose and say: "I hear you! I hear you! You have been rolling and tumbling for the last half hour. Ha! ha! it is Sunday to-day." He would laugh at his own wit, and I laughed with him, and would then bid him good-morning and be down the stairs at a bound. Very few people were stirring, but Sepel the butcher would always call out: "Come here, Joseph, I have something to tell you." But I only just turned my head, and ten minutes after was on the high-road to Quatre Vents, outside the city walls. Oh! how fine the weather was that beautiful year! How green and flourishing everything looked, and how busy the people were, trying to make up for lost time, planting and watering their cabbages and turnips, and digging over the ground trodden down by the cavalry; how confident everybody was too of the goodness of God, who, they hoped, would send the sun and the rain which they so much needed. All along the road, in the little gardens, women and old men, everybody, were at work, digging, planting, and watering. "Work away, Father Thiebeau, and you too, Mother Furst. Courage!" cried I. "Yes, yes, Mr. Joseph, there is need enough for that; this blockade has put everything back, there is no time to lose."