ans call veracity.

To speak plainly, the sergeant was a fluent, fertile, interesting,
sonorous, prompt, audacious liar: and such was his success, that Dard
and one or two more became mere human fiction pipes--of comparatively
small diameter--irrigating a rural district with false views of military
life, derived from that inexhaustible reservoir, La Croix.

At last the long-threatened conscription was levied: every person fit to
bear arms, and not coming under the allowed exceptions, drew a number:
and at a certain hour the numbers corresponding to these were deposited
in an urn, and one-third of them were drawn in presence of the
authorities. Those men whose numbers were drawn had to go for soldiers.
Jacintha awaited the result in great anxiety. She could not sit at home
for it; so she went down the road to meet Dard, who had promised to
come and tell her the result as soon as known. At last she saw him
approaching in a disconsolate way. "O Dard! speak! are we undone? are
you a dead man?" cried she. "Have they made a soldier of you?"

"No such luck: I shall die a man of all work," grunted Dard.

"And you are sorry? you unnatural little monster! you have no feeling
for me, then."

"Oh, yes, I have; but glory is No. 1 with me now."

"How loud the bantams crow! You leave glory to fools that be six feet
high."

"General Bonaparte isn't much higher than I am, and glory sits upon his
brow. Why shouldn't glory sit upon my brow?"

"Because it would weigh you down, and smother you, you little fool."
She added, "And think of me, that couldn't bear you to be killed at any
price, glory or no glory."

Then, to appease her fears, Dard showed her his number, 99; and assured
her he had seen the last number in the functionary's hand before he came
away, and it was sixty something.

This ocular demonstration satisfied Jacintha; and she ordered Dard to
help her draw the water.

"All right," said he, "there is no immortal glory to be picked up
to-day, so I'll go in for odd jobs."

While they were at this job a voice was heard hallooing. Dard looked
up, and there was a rigid military figure, with a tremendous
mustache, peering about. Dard was overjoyed. It was his friend, his
boon-companion. "Come here, old fellow," cried he, "ain't I glad to
see you, that is all?" La Croix marched towards the pair. "What are you
skulking here for, recruit ninety-nine?" said he, sternly, dropping the
boon-companion in the sergeant; "the rest