almost
white, and there is a dimple in his elbow. Suppose he were to kiss the
dimple? But no--the child might wake up. Good! Good! Let him sleep. And
the father makes the sign of the cross over the spoilt child. Then he
approaches the night-lamp. Its wick is charred and he turns it up a
little, so that the room is better lighted.

In a corner snores the old nurse; it sounds like the purring of a cat.
The Major goes on tip-toe towards the next room. His eldest son is there
who looks down on his little sister and his brat of a brother with
profound disdain. In the absence of his father he sleeps in his mother's
bed, where he is rolled up like a ball. The languid light of a lamp
covered with a blue shade falls on both of them. By the bed-side is a
little round table. The Major's wife must have been reading newspapers
before going to sleep, for there are some on the table, open at the page
where his detachment is spoken of. On the wall there is a portrait of
him, and there are others on the table. His memory seems to pervade the
place; he has certainly not been forgotten. Full of gratitude, he leans
over the sleepers, he touches softly and carefully the half-open lips of
his wife, he kisses gently her forehead and her closed eyes. She seems
to him to have grown thinner. Her nightdress is open at her neck, on
which the light of the lamp directly falls. It is quite natural that she
should have grown thinner through anxiety on account of her husband. She
has put one arm round the neck of her boy, who sleeps cosily, his curly
head resting on his mother's shoulder, his mouth a little open. What
teeth he has! And one eye is blackened!

What peace reigns here! It seems as though a spirit of purity brooded in
the atmosphere. Everything here breathes of love, calm and serenity. It
is as though an angel's prayer hovered over these two rooms, protecting
these dear heads from all evil thoughts, from despair and hatred.

If any one at this moment had watched the face of the Major as he lay
asleep, he would have seen a happy smile pass over the lips of this
thin tall man--so happy that the old Turk who lay not far from him
could not have supported the sight of it.

The latter was, all the night long, tormented by painful thoughts; he
turned uneasily on his couch, and now and then a scalding tear rolled
down his face. The night herself seemed struck by the contrast. She sent
him a mysterious vision, and as soon as the sleeper perceived