r such a little--the lower curves of the leg. His fingers,
so skilled in polishing, are rather awkward all the same as they turn
the boots over and turn them again, as he smiles at them and
ponders--profoundly and afar--while the old woman lifts her arms in the
air and calls me to witness "What a very kind soldier!" he is.

It is finished. The boots are cleaned and finished off in style; they
are like mirrors. Nothing is left to do.

He puts them on the edge of the table, very carefully, as if they were
saintly relics; then at last his hands let them go. But his eyes do not
at once leave them. He looks at them, and then lowering his head, he
looks at his own boots. I remember that while he made this comparison
the great lad--a hero by destiny, a Bohemian, a monk--smiled once more
with all his heart.

The old woman was showing signs of activity in the depths of her chair;
she had an idea. "I'll tell her! She shall thank you herself, monsieur!
Hey, Josephine!" she cried, turning towards a door.

But Paradis stopped her with an expansive gesture which I thought
magnificent. "No, it's not worth while, gran'ma; leave her where she
is. We're going. We won't trouble her, allez!"

Such decision sounded in his voice that it carried authority, and the
old woman obediently sank into inactivity and held her peace.

We went away to our bed under the wall-less roof, between the arms of
the plow that was waiting for us. And then Paradis began again to yawn;
but by the light of the candle in our crib, a full minute later, I saw
that the happy smile remained yet on his face.

XVII

In the Sap

IN the excitement of a distribution of letters from which the squad
were returning--some with the delight of a letter, some with the
semi-delight of a postcard, and others with a new load (speedily
reassumed) of expectation and hope--a comrade comes with a brandished
newspaper to tell us an amazing story--"Tu sais, the weasel-faced
ancient at Gauchin?"

"The old boy who was treasure-seeking?"

"Well, he's found it!"

"Gerraway!"

"It's just as I tell you, you great lump! What would you like me to say
to you? Mass? Don't know it. Anyway, the yard of his place has been
bombed, and a chest full of money was turned up out of the ground near
a wall. He got his treasure full on the back. And now the parson's
quietly cut in and talks about claiming credit for the miracle."

We listen open-mouthed. "A treasure--well! well! The ol