himself in front of
Henriette.

"I say, lady, tell us where you're going, will you?"

"You can see very well where I am going; to Bazeilles."

He gave a low whistle of astonishment, following it up with the shrill
laugh of the careless vagabond to whom nothing is sacred, who is not
particular upon whom or what he launches his irreverent gibes.

"To Bazeilles--oh, no, I guess not; I don't think my business lies that
way--I have another engagement. Bye-bye, ta-ta!"

He turned on his heel and was off like a shot, and she was none the
wiser as to whence he came or whither he went. She had found him in a
hole, she had lost sight of him at the corner of a wall, and never was
she to set eyes on him again.

When she was alone again Henriette experienced a strange sensation of
fear. He had been no protection to her, that scrubby urchin, but his
chatter had been a distraction; he had kept her spirits up by his way of
making game of everything, as if it was all one huge raree show. Now
she was beginning to tremble, her strength was failing her, she, who
by nature was so courageous. The shells no longer fell around her: the
Germans had ceased firing on Bazeilles, probably to avoid killing their
own men, who were now masters of the village; but within the last few
minutes she had heard the whistling of bullets, that peculiar sound like
the buzzing of a bluebottle fly, that she recognized by having heard it
described. There was such a raging, roaring clamor rising to the heavens
in the distance, the confused uproar of other sounds was so violent,
that in it she failed to distinguish the report of musketry. As she was
turning the corner of a house there was a deadened thud close at her
ear, succeeded by the sound of falling plaster, which brought her to a
sudden halt; it was a bullet that had struck the facade. She was pale as
death, and asked herself if her courage would be sufficient to carry
her through to the end; and before she had time to frame an answer, she
received what seemed to her a blow from a hammer upon her forehead, and
sank, stunned, upon her knees. It was a spent ball that had ricocheted
and struck her a little above the left eyebrow with sufficient force
to raise an ugly contusion. When she came to, raising her hands to her
forehead, she withdrew them covered with blood. But the pressure of her
fingers had assured her that the bone beneath was uninjured, and she
said aloud, encouraging herself by the sound of