is face,
made no objection, only insisted on deferring the ceremony until the
child should be born. When that event occurred he suddenly disappeared;
it was rumored, subsequently that he had found work on another farm,
over Beaumont way. These things had happened three years before the
breaking out of the war, and now everyone was convinced that that
artless, simple Goliah, who had such a way of ingratiating himself with
the girls, was none else than one of those Prussian spies who filled our
eastern provinces. When Honore learned the tidings over in Africa he
was three months in hospital, as if the fierce sun of that country
had smitten him on the neck with one of his fiery javelins, and never
thereafter did he apply for leave of absence to return to his country
for fear lest he might again set eyes on Silvine and her child.

The artilleryman's hands shook with agitation as Maurice perused the
letter. It was from Silvine, the first, the only one that she had ever
written him. What had been her guiding impulse, that silent, submissive
woman, whose handsome black eyes at times manifested a startling
fixedness of purpose in the midst of her never-ending slavery? She
simply said that she knew he was with the army, and though she might
never see him again, she could not endure the thought that he might die
and believe that she had ceased to love him. She loved him still, had
never loved another; and this she repeated again and again through
four closely written pages, in words of unvarying import, without the
slightest word of excuse for herself, without even attempting to explain
what had happened. There was no mention of the child, nothing but an
infinitely mournful and tender farewell.

The letter produced a profound impression upon Maurice, to whom his
cousin had once imparted the whole story. He raised his eyes and saw
that Honore was weeping; he embraced him like a brother.

"My poor Honore."

But the sergeant quickly got the better of his emotion. He carefully
restored the letter to its place over his heart and rebuttoned his
jacket.

"Yes, those are things that a man does not forget. Ah! the scoundrel, if
I could but have laid hands on him! But we shall see."

The bugles were sounding the signal to prepare for breaking camp, and
each had to hurry away to rejoin his command. The preparations for
departure dragged, however, and the troops had to stand waiting in heavy
marching order until nearly nine o'clock. A