eants as
well as the railway officials have to take hold of them by the waist and
to drag them forcibly down to the ground before they will give way.

It is the mothers who are the most obstinate. They cling to the
handrails, to the steps, even to the wheels--there will be a fearful
accident if they are not driven off by force. And they will yield only
to force; guards and porters take hold of them by the waist and drag
them away from their perilous positions.

They fight with stolid obstinacy; they will hang on to the train--they
are the mothers, you see!--and yet from where they are they cannot
always see their sons, herded in with forty or fifty other lads in a
truck, some standing, some squatting on the ground, or on the provision
baskets. But if you cannot see your son, it is always something to be on
the step of the train which is about to take him away.

The lads are all singing now at the top of their voices, but down below
on the platforms there is but little noise; the mothers do not speak,
because they are fighting for places on the steps of the
railway-carriages, where the boys are; they press their lips tightly
together, and when a guard or a porter comes to drag them away they just
hit out with their elbows--stolidly, silently.

The fathers and the other older men stand about in groups, leaning on
their sticks, talking in whispers, recounting former experiences of
entraining, or recruiting, of those abominable three years; and the
young girls--the sweethearts, the sisters, the friends--dare not speak
for fear they should break down and help to unman the lads.

Andor, by dint of fighting and obstinacy, has kept his place in the door
of one of the carriages; he sits on the floor, with his feet down on the
step below, and refuses to quit his position for anyone. Several lads
from the rear have tried to throw him out or to drag him in, but Andor
is mightily strong--you cannot move him if he be not so minded.

Elsa, sitting on the step lower down, is resting her elbow on his knee.
There is no thought of hiding their love for one another; let the whole
village know it, or the whole countryside, they do not care; they are
not going to deprive themselves of these last few minutes--these
heaven-born seconds, whilst their hands can still meet, their eyes can
speak the words which their lips no longer dare frame.

"I love you!"

"You will wait for me?"

In those few words lies all the consolation for the pr