work that amounted to something, as
out there in Africa! but this going up the hill only to come down again,
the feeling that one is of no earthly use to anyone, that is no kind
of a life at all. And then I should be lonely, now that poor Zephyr is
dead; all that is left me to do is to go to work on a farm. That will
be better than living among the Prussians as a prisoner, don't you think
so? You have horses, Father Fouchard; try me, and see whether or not I
will love them and take good care of them."

The old fellow's eyes gleamed, but he touched glasses once more with the
other and concluded the arrangement without any evidence of eagerness.

"Very well; I wish to be of service to you as far as lies in my power;
I will take you. As regards the question of wages, though, you must not
speak of it until the war is over, for really I am not in need of anyone
and the times are too hard."

Silvine, who had remained seated with Charlot on her lap, had never
once taken her eyes from Prosper's face. When she saw him rise with the
intention of going to the stable and making immediate acquaintance with
its four-footed inhabitants, she again asked:

"Then you say you did not see Honore?"

The question repeated thus abruptly made him start, as if it had
suddenly cast a flood of light in upon an obscure corner of his memory.
He hesitated for a little, but finally came to a decision and spoke.

"See here, I did not wish to grieve you just now, but I don't believe
Honore will ever come back."

"Never come back--what do you mean?"

"Yes, I believe that the Prussians did his business for him. I saw him
lying across his gun, his head erect, with a great wound just beneath
the heart."

There was silence in the room. Silvine's pallor was frightful to
behold, while Father Fouchard displayed his interest in the narrative by
replacing upon the table his glass, into which he had just poured what
wine remained in the bottle.

"Are you quite certain?" she asked in a choking voice.

"_Dame_! as certain as one can be of a thing he has seen with his own
two eyes. It was on a little hillock, with three trees in a group right
beside it; it seems to me I could go to the spot blindfolded."

If it was true she had nothing left to live for. That lad who had been
so good to her, who had forgiven her her fault, had plighted his troth
and was to marry her when he came home at the end of the campaign! and
they had robbed her of him, they had m