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It was five o'clock on the following evening that I saw the girl Marthe again. The Doctor and I had arranged to go round to her lodging after dinner, by which time we hoped to have a letter for her from Pierre, by despatch-rider. But Brand was with me in the afternoon, having looked in to my billet with an English conversation-book for Hélène, who was anxious to study our way of speech. Madame Chéri insisted upon giving him a glass of wine, and we stood talking in her drawing-room awhile about the certain hope of victory, and then trivial things. Hélène was delighted with her book and Brand had a merry five minutes with her, teaching her to pronounce the words.

"C'est effroyable!" cried Hélène. "'Through' 'Tough' 'Cough'  Mon Dieu, comme c'est difficile! There is no rule in your tongue."

Madame Chéri spoke of Edouard, her eldest boy, who had disappeared into the great silence, and gave me a photograph of him, in case I should meet him in our advance towards the Rhine. She kissed the photograph before giving it to me, and said a few words which revealed her strong character, her passionate patriotism.

"If he had been four years older he would have been a soldier of France. I should have been happy if he could have fought for his country, and died for it, like my husband."

Brand and I left the house and went up towards the Grande Place. I was telling him about Pierre Nesle's