ander of our army sent a flag of truce to
their town, commanding them to surrender: and, what do you think was the
reply?--"If you want powder, we'll supply you; if you are without bread,
we will send it to you: but as long as there is one good Mussulman left
alive, you do not enter the town."--Was not that grand? The very reply,
when made known to the troops, filled them with admiration of their
enemy, and they swore by their colours that if ever they overpowered
them they would give them no quarter.

"`In two days, General Vallee, to whom the command fell upon the death
of Damremont, considered the breach sufficiently wide for the assault,
and we every hour expected that the order would be given. It came at
last. My poor husband was in the second column which mounted. Strange
to say, he was very melancholy on that morning, and appeared to have a
presentiment of what was to take place. "Coralie," said he to me, as he
was scraping the mud off his trousers with his pocket-knife, "if I fall,
you will do well. I leave you as a legacy to General Vallee--he will
appreciate you. Do not forget to let him know my testamentary
dispositions."

"`I promised I would not. The drums beat. He kissed me on both cheeks.
"Go, my Philippe," said I; "go to glory." He did; for a mine was
sprung, and he with many others was blown to atoms. I had watched the
advance of the column and was able to distinguish the form of my dear
Philippe when the explosion with the vast column of smoke took place.
When it cleared away, I could see the wounded in every direction
hastening back; but my husband was not among them. In the mean time the
other columns entered the breach--the firing was awful, and the carnage
dreadful. It was more than an hour after the assault commenced before
the French tricolor waved upon the minarets of Constantine.

"`It was not until the next day that I could make up my mind to search
for my husband's body; but it was my duty. I climbed up the breach,
strewed with the corpses of our brave soldiers, intermingled with those
of the Arabs; but I could not find my husband. At last a head which had
been blown off attracted my attention. I examined it--it was my
Philippe's, blackened and burnt, and terribly disfigured: but who can
disguise the fragment of a husband from the keen eyes of the wife of his
bosom? I leaned over it. "My poor Philippe!" exclaimed I: and the
tears were bedewing my cheeks when I perceived th