aid announced, "Monsieur and Mesdemoiselles
Lantz," and Madame Roger arose hastily to receive the newcomers.
Lieutenant-Colonel Lantz, of the Engineer Corps, was with Captain Roger
when he died in the trench before Mamelon Vert; and might have been at
that time pleasant to look upon, in his uniform with its black velvet
breastplate; but, having been promoted some time ago to the office, he
had grown aged, leaning over the plans and draughts on long tables
covered with rules and compasses. With a cranium that looked like a
picked bird, his gray, melancholy imperial, his stooping shoulders, which
shortened still more his tightly buttoned military coat, there was
nothing martial in his appearance. With his head full of whims, no
fortune, and three daughters to marry, the poor Colonel, who put on only
two or three times a year, for official solemnities, his uniform, which
he kept in camphor, dined every Sunday night with Madame Roger, who liked
this estimable man because he was her husband's best friend, and had
invited him with his three little girls, who looked exactly alike, with
their turned-up noses, florid complexions, and little, black, bead-like
eyes, always so carefully dressed that one involuntarily compared them to
three pretty cakes prepared for some wedding or festive occasion. They
sat down at the table.

Madame Roger employed an excellent cook, and for the first time in his
life Amedee ate a quantity of good things, even more exquisite than Mamma
Gerard's little fried dishes. It was really only a very comfortable and
nice dinner, but to the young man it was a revelation of unsuspected
pleasures. This decorated table, this cloth that was so soft when he put
his hand upon it; these dishes that excited and satisfied the appetite;
these various flavored wines which, like the flowers, were fragrant--what
new and agreeable sensations! They were quickly and silently waited upon
by the pretty maid. Maurice, seated opposite his mother, presided over
the repast with his elegant gayety. Madame Roger's pale face would light
up with a smile at each of his good-natured jokes, and the three young
ladies would burst into discreet little laughs, all in unison, and even
the sorrowful Colonel would arouse from his torpor.

He became animated after his second glass of burgundy, and was very
entertaining. He spoke of the Crimean campaign; of that chivalrous war
when the officers of both armies, enemies to each other, exchanged
p