the victory. It's not you are the only woman
that are in the hands of God this day."

"I know that. I am very wicked, very weak," Amelia said. She knew her
own weakness well enough. The presence of the more resolute friend
checked it, however; and she was the better of this control and
company. They went on till two o'clock; their hearts were with the
column as it marched farther and farther away. Dreadful doubt and
anguish--prayers and fears and griefs unspeakable--followed the
regiment. It was the women's tribute to the war. It taxes both alike,
and takes the blood of the men, and the tears of the women.

At half-past two, an event occurred of daily importance to Mr. Joseph:
the dinner-hour arrived. Warriors may fight and perish, but he must
dine. He came into Amelia's room to see if he could coax her to share
that meal. "Try," said he; "the soup is very good. Do try, Emmy," and
he kissed her hand. Except when she was married, he had not done so
much for years before. "You are very good and kind, Joseph," she said.
"Everybody is, but, if you please, I will stay in my room to-day."

The savour of the soup, however, was agreeable to Mrs. O'Dowd's
nostrils: and she thought she would bear Mr. Jos company. So the two
sate down to their meal. "God bless the meat," said the Major's wife,
solemnly: she was thinking of her honest Mick, riding at the head of
his regiment: "'Tis but a bad dinner those poor boys will get to-day,"
she said, with a sigh, and then, like a philosopher, fell to.

Jos's spirits rose with his meal. He would drink the regiment's
health; or, indeed, take any other excuse to indulge in a glass of
champagne. "We'll drink to O'Dowd and the brave --th," said he, bowing
gallantly to his guest. "Hey, Mrs. O'Dowd? Fill Mrs. O'Dowd's glass,
Isidor."

But all of a sudden, Isidor started, and the Major's wife laid down her
knife and fork. The windows of the room were open, and looked
southward, and a dull distant sound came over the sun-lighted roofs
from that direction. "What is it?" said Jos. "Why don't you pour, you
rascal?"

"Cest le feu!" said Isidor, running to the balcony.

"God defend us; it's cannon!" Mrs. O'Dowd cried, starting up, and
followed too to the window. A thousand pale and anxious faces might
have been seen looking from other casements. And presently it seemed
as if the whole population of the city rushed into the streets.

CHAPTER XXXII

In Which Jos Take