timental dreamer, awaiting in gloomy silence the
fulfillment of his destiny!

Weiss and Delaherche accompanied the two soldiers to the plateau of
Floing, where the 7th corps camps were.

"Adieu!" said Maurice as he embraced his brother-in-law.

"No, no; not adieu, the deuce! Au _revoir_!" the manufacturer gayly
cried.

Jean's instinct led him at once to their regiment, the tents of which
were pitched behind the cemetery, where the ground of the plateau begins
to fall away. It was nearly dark, but there was sufficient light yet
remaining in the sky to enable them to distinguish the black huddle of
roofs above the city, and further in the distance Balan and Bazeilles,
lying in the broad meadows that stretch away to the range of hills
between Remilly and Frenois, while to the right was the dusky wood of la
Garenne, and to the left the broad bosom of the Meuse had the dull gleam
of frosted silver in the dying daylight. Maurice surveyed the broad
landscape that was momentarily fading in the descending shadows.

"Ah, here is the corporal!" said Chouteau. "I wonder if he has been
looking after our rations!"

The camp was astir with life and bustle. All day the men had been coming
in, singly and in little groups, and the crowd and confusion were such
that the officers made no pretense of punishing or even reprimanding
them; they accepted thankfully those who were so kind as to return and
asked no questions. Captain Beaudoin had made his appearance only a
short time before, and it was about two o'clock when Lieutenant Rochas
had brought in his collection of stragglers, about one-third of the
company strength. Now the ranks were nearly full once more. Some of
the men were drunk, others had not been able to secure even a morsel
of bread and were sinking from inanition; again there had been no
distribution of rations. Loubet, however, had discovered some cabbages
in a neighboring garden, and cooked them after a fashion, but there was
no salt or lard; the empty stomachs continued to assert their claims.

"Come, now, corporal, you are a knowing old file," Chouteau tauntingly
continued, "what have you got for us? Oh, it's not for myself I care;
Loubet and I had a good breakfast; a lady gave it us. You were not at
distribution, then?"

Jean beheld a circle of expectant eyes bent on him; the squad had been
waiting for him with anxiety, Pache and Lapoulle in particular, luckless
dogs, who had found nothing they could appropriate