* * * *

"I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty; it
was by the side of a large, ugly, brick church. I knocked at the door
with my fist, as there was neither bell nor knocker, and a loud voice
from inside asked: 'Who is there?' To which I replied: 'A quarter-master
of the hussars.'

"I heard the noise of bolts and of a key being turned, and I found
myself face to face with a tall priest with a large stomach, the chest
of a prize-fighter, formidable hands projecting from turned up sleeves,
a red face and the looks of a kind man. I gave him a military salute and
said: 'Good day, Monsieur le Cure.'

"He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as he
replied: 'Good day, my friend; come in.' I followed him into a small
room with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was burning, very
different to Marchas' furnace, and he gave me a chair and said: 'What
can I do for you?' 'Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce
myself;' and I gave him my card, which he took and read half aloud: _The
Comte de Garens_.

"I continued: 'There are eleven of us here, Monsieur l'Abbe, five on
grand guard, and six installed at the house of an unknown inhabitant.
The names of the six are, Garens, (that is I), Pierre de Marchas,
Ludovic de Ponderel, Baron d'Etreillis, Karl Massouligny, the painter's
son and Joseph Herbon, a young musician. I have come to ask you, in
their name and my own, to do us the honor of supping with us. It is an
Epiphany supper, Monsieur le Cure, and we should like to make it a
little cheerful.'

"The priest smiled and murmured: 'It seems to me to be hardly a suitable
occasion for amusing oneself.' And I replied: 'We are fighting every
day, Monsieur. Fourteen of our comrades have been killed in a month, and
three fell, as late as yesterday. That is war. We stake our lives every
moment, have we not, therefore, the right to amuse ourselves freely? We
are Frenchmen, we like to laugh, and we can laugh everywhere. Our
fathers laughed on the scaffold! This evening we should like to brighten
ourselves up a little, like gentlemen, and not like soldiers; you
understand me, I hope. Are we wrong?'

"He replied quickly: 'You are quite right, my friend, and I accept your
invitation with great pleasure.' Then he called out: 'Hermance!'

"An old bent, wrinkled, horrible, peasant woman appeared and said: 'What
do you want?' 'I shall not dine at home, my da