prietress, who thought that she was dead, was very glad to see
her.

A short time afterward a patriot who had no prejudices, and who liked
her because of her bold deed, and who afterward loved her for herself,
married her and made her a lady quite as good as many others.

A DUEL

The war was over. The Germans occupied France. The whole country was
pulsating like a conquered wrestler beneath the knee of his victorious
opponent.

The first trains from Paris, distracted, starving, despairing Paris,
were making their way to the new frontiers, slowly passing through the
country districts and the villages. The passengers gazed through the
windows at the ravaged fields and burned hamlets. Prussian soldiers, in
their black helmets with brass spikes, were smoking their pipes astride
their chairs in front of the houses which were still left standing.
Others were working or talking just as if they were members of the
families. As you passed through the different towns you saw entire
regiments drilling in the squares, and, in spite of the rumble of
the carriage-wheels, you could every moment hear the hoarse words of
command.

M. Dubuis, who during the entire siege had served as one of the National
Guard in Paris, was going to join his wife and daughter, whom he had
prudently sent away to Switzerland before the invasion.

Famine and hardship had not diminished his big paunch so characteristic
of the rich, peace-loving merchant. He had gone through the terrible
events of the past year with sorrowful resignation and bitter complaints
at the savagery of men. Now that he was journeying to the frontier at
the close of the war, he saw the Prussians for the first time, although
he had done his duty on the ramparts and mounted guard on many a cold
night.

He stared with mingled fear and anger at those bearded armed men,
installed all over French soil as if they were at home, and he felt in
his soul a kind of fever of impotent patriotism, at the same time also
the great need of that new instinct of prudence which since then has,
never left us. In the same railway carriage were two Englishmen, who had
come to the country as sightseers and were gazing about them with looks
of quiet curiosity. They were both also stout, and kept chatting in
their own language, sometimes referring to their guidebook, and reading
aloud the names of the places indicated.

Suddenly the train stopped at a little village station, and a Prussian
offic