h them, and have their company. However, she felt a sudden
shame, and dared not say that she required nothing.

"Have you any hot water?" she asked, after a silence.

"No, madame; and my fire is nearly out. Oh, but it doesn't matter;
I'll give you some in five minutes. It boils in no time."

She threw on some charcoal, and then set the kettle in place; but
seeing that her mistress still lingered in the doorway, she said:

"I'll bring the water to you in five minutes, madame."

Helene responded with a wave of the hand.

"I'm not in a hurry for it; I'll wait. Don't disturb yourself, my
girl; eat away, eat away. There's a lad who'll have to go back to
barracks."

Rosalie thereupon sat down again. Zephyrin, who had also been
standing, made a military salute, and returned to the cutting of his
meat, with his elbows projecting as though to show that he knew how to
conduct himself at table. Thus eating together, after madame had
finished dinner, they did not even draw the table into the middle of
the kitchen, but contented themselves with sitting side by side, with
their noses turned towards the wall. A glorious prospect of stewpans
was before them. A bunch of laurel and thyme hung near, and a
spice-box exhaled a piquant perfume. Around them--the kitchen was not
yet tidied--was all the litter of the things cleared away from the
dining-room; however, the spot seemed a charming one to these hungry
sweethearts, and especially to Zephyrin, who here feasted on such
things as were never seen within the walls of his barracks. The
predominant odor was one of roast meat, seasoned with a dash of
vinegar--the vinegar of the salad. In the copper pans and iron pots
the reflected light from the gas was dancing; and as the heat of the
fire was beyond endurance, they had set the window ajar, and a cool
breeze blew in from the garden, stirring the blue cotton curtain.

"Must you be in by ten o'clock exactly?" asked Helene.

"I must, madame, with all deference to you," answered Zephyrin.

"Well, it's along way off. Do you take the ''bus'?"

"Oh, yes, madame, sometimes. But you see a good swinging walk is much
the best."

She had taken a step into the kitchen, and leaning against the
dresser, her arms dangling and her hands clasped over her
dressing-gown, she began gossiping away about the wretched weather
they had had that day, about the food which was rationed out in
barracks, and the high price of eggs. As soon, however, as she