Through the arc de l'Etoile the fading sunset looked back, as upon something it was loath to leave. Then Little Tapin flung back his head. There was a strange, new light in his eyes, and his breath came quickly, between parted lips. Without a word he swung upon his heels, slipped his drum into place, and marched steadily away, beating the long roll. Once, when he had gone a hundred metres, he looked back. The figure of the Little Corporal was still standing beside the basin, but now it was very thin and faint, like the dust clouds on the Champs Elysées. But, as the little drummer turned, it raised one hand to its forehead in salute. Little Tapin stood motionless for an instant, and then he smiled, and, through the deepening twilight-- "Vive l'armée!" he shouted, shrilly. "Vive la France!" The Riverside Press _Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ _Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._ End of Project Gutenberg's Zut and Other Parisians, by Guy Wetmore Carryl