oulden, and Catherine were talking together
in the shop, distress was written on every face. They knew everything.
"The third battalion is going," I said as I entered, "but Mr. Montravel
has just given me a letter to the director of the arsenal at Metz. Do
not be anxious, I shall not make the campaign."

I was almost choking. Mr. Goulden took the letter and said, "It is
open; we can read it."

Then he read the letter, in which Mr. Montravel recommended me to his
friend, saying that I was married, a good workman, industrious, and
that I could render real service at the arsenal. He could have said
nothing better.

"Now the matter is certain," said Zebede.

"Yes, you will be retained in the arsenal at Metz," said Father Goulden.

Catherine was very pale, she kissed me and said, "What happiness,
Joseph!"

They all pretended to believe that I should remain at Metz, and I tried
to hide my fears from them. But the effort almost suffocated me, and I
could hardly avoid sobbing, when happily I thought I would go and
announce the news to Aunt Gredel. So I said, "Although it will not be
very long, and I shall stay in Metz, yet I must go and tell the good
news to Aunt Gredel. I will be back between five and six, and
Catherine will have time to prepare my haversack, and we will have
supper."

"Yes, Joseph, go!" said Father Goulden. Catherine said not a word, for
she could hardly restrain her tears. I set off like a madman. Zebede,
who was returning to the barracks, told me at the door, that the
officer in charge at the town-house would give me my uniform, and that
I must be there about five o'clock. I listened, as if in a dream, to
his words, and ran till I was outside of the city. Once on the glacis
I ran on without knowing where, in the trenches, and by the
Trois-Chateaux and the Baraques-a-en-haut, and along the forest to
Quatre Vents.

I cannot describe to you the thoughts that ran through my brain. I was
bewildered, and wanted to run away to Switzerland. But the worst of
all was when I approached Quatre Vents by the path along the Daun. It
was about three o'clock. Aunt Gredel was putting up some poles for her
beans, in the rear of the garden, and she saw me in the distance, and
said to herself:

"Why it is Joseph! what is he doing in the grain?"

But when I got into the road, which was full of ruts and sand and which
the sun made as hot as a furnace, I went on more slowly with my head
bent down, thi