table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for
Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the captain
still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through dinner.

"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for
saving me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my
body already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) "and a
second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this leg which
as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh at the
great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That deluge of
fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us there, my word!
You may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of the cough I caught
there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity those who did not see
it."

"I was there," said Pierre.

"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. The
great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. "And
you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I sit
here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were thrown
back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur Pierre! Your
grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close up their ranks six
times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine fellows! Our King of
Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, ha! So you are one of
us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a momentary pause. "So much
the better, so much the better, Monsieur Pierre! Terrible in battle...
gallant... with the fair" (he winked and smiled), "that's what the
French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?"

The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so
pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked merrily
at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's thoughts to the
state of Moscow.

"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left
Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?"

"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered it?"
asked Pierre.

"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, patting
Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. "Paris?...
But Paris, Paris..."

"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for him.

The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in the
middle of his talk and gazing