hen as midnight was striking and the rain was still
belaboring the dark town, he slowly turned homeward. The thought of
his men almost broke his heart, and, stopping short, he said aloud in a
voice full of compassion:

"Poor devils! what a lot of cow beef they'll have to swallow for those
two thousand francs!"

CHAPTER III

AGAIN?

The regiment was altogether nonplused: Petticoat Burle had quarreled
with Melanie. When a week had elapsed it became a proved and undeniable
fact; the captain no longer set foot inside the Cafe de Paris, where the
chemist, it was averred, once more reigned in his stead, to the profound
sorrow of the retired magistrate. An even more incredible statement was
that Captain Burle led the life of a recluse in the Rue des Recollets.
He was becoming a reformed character; he spent his evenings at his own
fireside, hearing little Charles repeat his lessons. His mother, who
had never breathed a word to him of his manipulations with Gagneux,
maintained her old severity of demeanor as she sat opposite to him
in her armchair, but her looks seemed to imply that she believed him
reclaimed.

A fortnight later Major Laguitte came one evening to invite himself to
dinner. He felt some awkwardness at the prospect of meeting Burle
again, not on his own account but because he dreaded awakening painful
memories. However, as the captain was mending his ways he wished to
shake hands and break a crust with him. He thought this would please his
old friend.

When Laguitte arrived Burle was in his room, so it was the old lady who
received the major. The latter, after announcing that he had come to
have a plate of soup with them, added, lowering his voice:

"Well, how goes it?"

"It is all right," answered the old lady.

"Nothing queer?"

"Absolutely nothing. Never away--in bed at nine--and looking quite
happy."

"Ah, confound it," replied the major, "I knew very well he only wanted a
shaking. He has some heart left, the dog!"

When Burle appeared he almost crushed the major's hands in his grasp,
and standing before the fire, waiting for the dinner, they conversed
peacefully, honestly, together, extolling the charms of home life. The
captain vowed he wouldn't exchange his home for a kingdom and declared
that when he had removed his braces, put on his slippers and settled
himself in his armchair, no king was fit to hold a candle to him. The
major assented and examined him. At all events his virtuous c