tfalls he should shun; and he in all
obedience vigorously nodded approval of each injunction. Every Sunday
he had to swear to her that he had attended mass, and that he had
solemnly repeated his prayers morning and evening. She strongly
inculcated the necessity of tidiness, gave him a brush down whenever
he left her, stitched on a loose button of his tunic, and surveyed him
from head to foot to see if aught were amiss in his appearance. She
also worried herself about his health, and gave him cures for all
sorts of ailments. In return for her kindly care Zephyrin professed
himself anxious to fill her filter for her; but this proposal was
long-rejected, through the fear that he might spill the water. One
day, however, he brought up two buckets without letting a drop of
their contents fall on the stairs, and from that time he replenished
the filter every Sunday. He would also make himself useful in other
ways, doing all the heavy work and was extremely handy in running to
the greengrocer's for butter, had she forgotten to purchase any. At
last, even, he began to share in the duties of kitchen-maid. First he
was permitted to peel the vegetables; later on the mincing was
assigned to him. At the end of six weeks, though still forbidden to
touch the sauces, he watched over them with wooden spoon in hand.
Rosalie had fairly made him her helpmate, and would sometimes burst
out laughing as she saw him, with his red trousers and yellow collar,
working busily before the fire with a dishcloth over his arm, like
some scullery-servant.

One Sunday Helene betook herself to the kitchen. Her slippers deadened
the sound of her footsteps, and she reached the threshold unheard by
either maid or soldier. Zephyrin was seated in his corner over a basin
of steaming broth. Rosalie, with her back turned to the door, was
occupied in cutting some long sippets of bread for him.

"There, eat away, my dear!" she said. "You walk too much; it is that
which makes you feel so empty! There! have you enough? Do you want any
more?"

Thus speaking, she watched him with a tender and anxious look. He,
with his round, dumpy figure, leaned over the basin, devouring a
sippet with each mouthful of broth. His face, usually yellow with
freckles, was becoming quite red with the warmth of the steam which
circled round him.

"Heavens!" he muttered, "what grand juice! What do you put in it?"

"Wait a minute," she said; "if you like leeks--"

However, as she turne