"Oh, we will speak of that later." This answer had already been made to her. It had been said to her even at Surville, in the hospital, and with a mysterious air. She was disturbed by it, and spoke of it, on a venture, to Simone de Prans, whom she saw that evening. Simone and her husband both smiled as the American lady had done. "What do you all mean?" "Don't be disturbed," said Pierre de Prans seriously; "take care of yourself. A woman like you has services to give." "Well, I must do something," said Odette, trembling under her veil, "and as it is, I am doing absolutely nothing with my ten fingers!" XVI "Whenever the cloud of anguish rises even a little from the sky of Paris," said La Villaumer, "this city, so marvellously alive, clasps to itself life, of whatever kind, with a simple, natural impulse, without immoderation, but with a secret smile, always ready. Yet this power of life, on the whole so beautiful, has something that brings a frown to the brow of the onlooker; for it has within it insensibility and forgetfulness. "How disconcerting it is to see this new, mutilated humanity, pass in the streets almost without attracting attention. Young men in uniform, or returned to civil life minus a leg, on crutches, with an artificial limb, leaning on a cane like an old man, with an empty coat sleeve, an eye gone, nothing left of the nose but two breathing-holes, the jaw moulded over like a lump of potter's clay--or led along, sightless! They hardly arouse compassion, seldom even curiosity. There are so many of them! You can see the like in any place. War crosses, military medals, the Legion of Honor on the breast of a mere youth, which at one time would have attracted admiring glances and brought tears to women's eyes, are now hardly noticed. There are so many who have received or have deserved them! Most of those who possess them now wear only the ribbon on their jackets like civilians. The long duration and the barbarism of the war have spoiled everything. Men whose exploits cast into the shade the most famous examples of history with which the memory of school children is crammed, refuse to be called heroes. Heroes! There are so many of them! It was not to distinguish themselves, nor to cover their families with honor, nor even to set a noble example, that so many men have wrought prodigies; they did them modestly, because they had to be done in order to put an end to an abomination. With many the idea even of the country is attenuated in favor of something which makes much less appeal to the heart, the motive of which is only the cold persuasion that militarism must be destroyed; one must fight for very hatred of fighting. And here is something new, this vast uprising for war is producing no enthusiasm for war; it is animated only by hatred of war. All these brave men, riddled like sieves, rescued from an ordeal without precedent, are cherishing no ambition to march in a procession of