wasa
woman
's
ring
,
of
sapphires
and
opals
.
She
looked
at
both
close
in
the
glow
of
the
setting
sun
;
then
passed
the
string
through
and
fastened
the
box
afresh
.
It
was
a
mere
trifle
,
but
it
sufficed
to
banish
her
dream
,
to
arouse
her
to
contemptuous
impatient
bitterness
with
that
new
weakness
that
had
for
the
hour
broken
her
down
to
the
level
of
this
feverish
folly
.
He
was
beautiful
—
yes
!
She
could
not
bring
herself
to
hate
him
;
she
could
not
help
the
brimming
tears
blinding
her
eyes
when
she
looked
at
him
stretched
senseless
thus
.
But
he
was
wedded
to
his
past
;
that
toy
in
his
breast
,
whatever
it
might
be
,
whatever
tale
might
cling
to
it
,
was
sweeter
to
him
than
her
lips
would
ever
be
.
Bah
!
there
were
better
men
than
he
;
why
had
she
not
let
him
lie
and
die
as
he
might
under
the
pile
of
dead
?
Bah
!
she
could
have
killed
herself
for
her
folly
!
She
,
who
had
scores
of
lovers
,
from
princes
to
piou-pious
,
and
never
had
a
heart-ache
for
one
of
them
,
to
go
and
care
for
a
silent
"
ci-devant
,
"
who
had
never
even
noticed
that
her
eyes
had
any
brightness
or
her
face
had
any
charm
!
"
You
deserve
to
be
shot
—
you
!
"
said
Cigarette
,
fiercely
abusing
herself
as
she
put
his
head
off
her
lap
,
and
rose
abruptly
and
shouted
to
a
Tringlo
who
was
at
some
distance
searching
for
the
wounded
.
"
Here
is
a
Chasse-Marais
with
some
breath
in
him
,
"
she
said
,
curtly
,
as
the
man
with
his
mule-cart
and
its
sad
burden
of
half-dead
,
moaning
,
writhing
frames
drew
near
at
her
summons
.
"
Put
him
in
,
Soldiers
cost
too
much
,
training
,
to
waste
them
on
jackals
and
kites
,
if
one
can
help
it
.
Lift
him
up
—
quick
!
"
"
He
is
badly
hurt
?
"
said
the
Tringlo
.
She
shrugged
her
shoulders
.
"
Oh
no
!
I
have
had
worse
scratches
myself
.
The
horse
fell
on
him
,
that
was
the
mischief
.
Most
of
them
here
have
swallowed
the
'
petite
pilule
d'oubli
'
once
and
for
all
.
I
never
saw
a
prettier
thing
—
every
Lascar
has
killed
his
own
little
knot
of
Arbicos
.
Look
how
nice
and
neat
they
lie
.
"
Cigarette
glanced
over
the
field
with
the
satisfied
appreciation
of
a
connoisseur
glancing
over
a
Soltykoff
or
Blacas
collection
unimpeachable
for
accuracy
and
arrangement
;
and
drank
a
toss
of
her
brandy
,
and
lighted
her
little
amber
pipe
,
and
sang
loudly
as
she
did
so
the
gayest
ballad
of
the
Langue
Verte
.
She
was
not
going
to
have
him
imagine
she
cared
for
that
Chasseur
whom
he
lifted
up
on
his
little
waggon
with
so
kindly
a
care
—
not
she
!
Cigarette
was
as
proud
in
her
way
as
was
ever
the
Princess
Venetia
Corona
.
Nevertheless
,
she
kept
pace
with
the
mules
,
carrying
little
Flick-Flack
,
and
never
paused
on
her
way
,
though
she
passed
scores
of
dead
Arabs
,
whose
silver
ornaments
and
silk
broideries
commonly
after
such
a
fantasia
replenished
the
knapsack
and
adorned
in
profusion
the
uniform
of
the
young
filibuster
,
being
gleaned
by
her
,
right
and
left
,
as
her
lawful
harvest
after
the
fray
.
"
Leave
him
there
.
I
will
have
a
look
at
him
,
"
she
said
,
at
the
first
empty
tent
they
reached
:
the
camp
had
been
the
scene
of
as
fierce
a
struggle
as
the
part
of
the
plain
which
the
cavalry
had
held
,
and
it
was
strewn
with
the
slaughter
of
Zouaves
and
Tirailleurs
.
The
Tringlo
obeyed
her
,
and
went
about
his
errand
of
mercy
.
Cigarette
,
left
alone
with
the
wounded
man
,
lying
insensible
still
on
a
heap
of
forage
,
ceased
her
song
,
and
grew
very
quiet
.
She
had
a
certain
surgical
skill
,
learnt
as
her
untutored
genius
learned
most
things
,
with
marvellous
rapidity
,
by
observation
and
intuition
;
and
she
had
saved
many
a
life
by
her
knowledge
and
her
patient
attendance
on
the
sufferers
—
patience
that
she
had
been
famed
for
when
she
had
been
only
six
years
old
,
and
a
surgeon
of
the
Algerian
regiments
had
affirmed
that
he
could
trust
her
to
be
as
wakeful
,
as
watchful
,
and
as
sure
to
obey
his
directions
as
though
she
were
a
Soeur
de
Charité
.
Now
"
the
little
fagot
of
opposites
,
"
as
Cecil
had
called
her
,
put
this
skill
into
active
use
.
The
tent
had
been
a
scullion
's
tent
;
the
poor
marmiton
had
been
killed
,
and
lay
outside
,
with
his
head
clean-severed
by
an
Arab
flissa
;
his
fire
had
gone
out
,
but
his
brass
pots
and
pans
,
his
jar
of
fresh
water
,
and
his
various
preparations
for
the
General
's
dinner
,
were
still
there
.
The
General
was
dead
also
;
far
yonder
,
where
he
had
fallen
in
the
van
of
his
Zouaves
,
exposing
himself
with
all
the
splendid
reckless
gallantry
of
France
;
and
the
soup
stood
unserved
,
the
wild
plovers
were
taken
by
Flick-Flack
,
the
empty
dishes
waited
for
the
viands
which
there
were
no
hands
to
prepare
and
no
mouths
to
eat
.
Cigarette
glanced
round
,
and
saw
all
with
one
flash
of
her
eyes
;
then
she
knelt
down
beside
the
heap
of
forage
,
and
,
for
the
first
thing
,
dressed
his
wounds
with
the
cold
,
clear
water
,
and
washed
away
the
dust
and
the
blood
that
covered
his
chest
.
"
He
is
too
good
a
soldier
to
die
;
one
must
do
it
for
France
,
"
she
said
to
herself
,
in
a
kind
of
self-apology
.
And
as
she
did
it
,
and
bound
the
lance-gash
close
,
and
bathed
his
breast
,
his
forehead
,
his
hair
,
his
beard
,
free
from
the
sand
,
and
the
powder
,
and
the
gore
,
a
thousand
changes
swept
over
her
mobile
face
.
It
was
one
moment
soft
,
and
flushed
,
and
tender
as
passion
;
it
was
the
next
jealous
,
fiery
,
scornful
,
pale
,
and
full
of
impatient
self-disdain
.
He
was
nothing
to
her
—
morbleu
!
He
was
an
aristocrat
,
and
she
was
a
child
of
the
people
.
She
had
been
besieged
by
Dukes
,
and
had
flouted
Princes
;
she
had
borne
herself
in
such
gay
liberty
,
such
vivacious
freedom
,
such
proud
and
careless
sovereignty
—
bah
!
what
was
it
to
her
whether
this
man
lived
or
died
?
If
she
saved
him
,
he
would
give
her
a
low
bow
as
he
thanked
her
,
thinking
all
the
while
of
Miladi
!
And
yet
she
went
on
with
her
work
.
Cecil
had
been
stunned
by
a
stroke
from
his
horse
's
hoof
as
the
poor
beast
fell
beneath
and
rolled
over
him
.
His
wounds
were
slight
—
marvellously
so
for
the
thousand
strokes
that
had
been
aimed
at
him
;
but
it
was
difficult
to
rouse
him
from
unconsciousness
,
and
his
face
was
white
as
death
where
he
lay
on
the
heap
of
dry
reeds
and
grasses
.
She
began
to
feel
fear
of
that
lengthened
syncope
;
a
chill
,
tight
,
despairing
fear
that
she
had
never
known
in
her
life
before
.
She
knelt
silent
a
moment
,
drawing
through
her
hand
the
wet
locks
of
his
hair
with
the
bright
threads
of
gold
gleaming
in
it
.
Then
she
started
up
,
and
,
leaving
him
,
found
a
match
,
and
lighted
the
died-out
wood
afresh
;
the
fire
soon
blazed
up
,
and
she
warmed
above
it
the
soup
that
had
grown
cold
,
poured
into
it
some
red
wine
that
was
near
,
and
forced
some
,
little
by
little
,
down
his
throat
.
It
was
with
difficulty
at
first
that
she
could
pass
any
through
his
tightly-locked
teeth
;
but
by
degrees
she
succeeded
,
and
,
only
half
conscious
still
,
he
drank
it
faster
,
the
heat
and
the
strength
reviving
him
as
its
stimulant
warmed
his
veins
.
His
eyes
did
not
unclose
,
but
he
stirred
,
moved
his
limbs
,
and
,
with
some
muttered
words
she
could
not
hear
,
drew
a
deeper
breath
and
turned
.
"
He
will
sleep
now
—
he
is
safe
,
"
she
thought
to
herself
while
she
stood
watching
him
with
a
curious
conflict
of
pity
,
impatience
,
anger
,
and
relief
at
war
within
her
.
Bah
!
Why
was
she
always
doing
good
service
to
this
man
,
who
only
cared
for
the
blue
serene
eyes
of
a
woman
who
would
never
give
him
aught
except
pain
?
Why
should
she
take
such
care
to
keep
the
fire
of
vitality
alight
in
him
,
when
it
had
been
crushed
out
in
thousands
as
good
as
he
,
who
would
have
no
notice
save
a
hasty
thrust
into
the
earth
,
no
funeral
chant
except
the
screech
of
the
carrion-birds
?
Cigarette
had
been
too
successful
in
her
rebellion
against
all
weakness
,
and
was
far
too
fiery
a
young
warrior
to
find
refuge
or
consolation
in
the
poet
's
plea
,
"
How
is
it
under
our
control
to
love
or
not
to
love
?
"
To
allow
anything
to
gain
ascendancy
over
her
that
she
resisted
,
to
succumb
to
any
conqueror
that
was
unbidden
and
unwelcome
,
was
a
submission
beyond
words
degrading
to
the
fearless
soldier-code
of
the
Friend
of
the
Flag
.
And
yet
—
there
she
stayed
and
watched
him
.
She
took
some
food
,
for
she
had
been
fasting
all
day
;
then
she
dropped
down
before
the
fire
she
had
lighted
,
and
,
in
one
of
those
soft
,
curled
,
kitten-like
attitudes
that
were
characteristic
of
her
,
kept
her
vigil
over
him
.
She
was
bruised
,
stiff
,
tired
,
longing
like
a
tired
child
to
fall
asleep
;
her
eyes
felt
hot
as
flame
,
her
rounded
supple
limbs
were
aching
,
her
throat
was
sore
with
long
thirst
and
the
sand
that
she
seemed
to
have
swallowed
till
no
draught
of
water
or
wine
would
take
the
scorched
,
dry
pain
out
of
it
.
But
,
as
she
had
given
up
her
fête-day
in
the
hospital
,
so
she
sat
now
—
as
patient
in
the
self-sacrifice
as
she
was
impatient
when
the
vivacious
agility
of
her
young
frame
was
longing
for
the
frenzied
delights
of
the
dance
or
the
battle
.
Yonder
she
knew
,
where
her
Spahis
bivouacked
on
the
hard-won
field
,
there
were
riotous
homage
,
wild
applause
,
intoxicated
triumph
waiting
for
the
Little
One
who
had
saved
the
day
,
if
she
chose
to
go
out
for
it
;
and
she
loved
to
be
the
centre
of
such
adoration
and
rejoicing
with
all
the
exultant
vanity
of
a
child
and
a
hero
in
one
.
Here
there
were
warmth
of
flames
,
quietness
of
rest
,
long
hours
for
slumber
,
all
that
her
burning
eyes
and
throbbing
nerves
were
longing
for
,
as
the
sleep
she
would
not
yield
to
stole
on
her
,
and
the
racking
pain
of
fatigue
cramped
her
bones
.
But
she
would
not
go
to
the
pleasure
without
,
and
she
would
not
give
way
to
the
weariness
that
tortured
her
.
Cigarette
could
crucify
self
with
a
generous
courage
,
all
the
purer
because
it
never
occurred
to
her
that
there
was
anything
of
virtue
or
of
sacrifice
in
it
.
She
was
acting
en
bon
soldat
—
that
was
all
.
Pouf
!
that
wanted
no
thanks
.
Silence
settled
over
the
camp
;
half
the
slain
could
not
be
buried
,
and
the
clear
luminous
stars
rose
on
the
ghastly
plateau
.
All
that
were
heard
were
the
challenge
of
sentinels
,
the
tramp
of
patrols
.
The
guard
visited
her
once
:
"
C'est
Cigarette
,
"
she
said
,
briefly
,
and
she
was
left
undisturbed
.
She
kept
herself
awake
in
the
little
dark
tent
,
only
lit
by
the
glow
of
the
fire
.
Dead
men
were
just
without
,
and
in
the
moonlight
without
,
as
the
night
came
on
,
she
could
see
the
severed
throat
of
the
scullion
,
and
the
head
farther
off
,
like
a
round
grey
stone
.
But
that
was
nothing
to
Cigarette
;
dead
men
were
no
more
to
her
than
dead
trees
are
to
others
.
Every
now
and
then
,
four
or
five
times
in
an
hour
,
she
gave
him
whom
she
tended
the
soup
or
the
wine
that
she
kept
warmed
for
him
over
the
embers
.
He
took
it
without
knowledge
,
sunk
half
in
lethargy
,
half
in
sleep
;
but
it
kept
the
life
glowing
in
him
which
,
without
it
,
might
have
perished
of
cold
and
exhaustion
as
the
chills
and
northerly
wind
of
the
evening
succeeded
to
the
heat
of
the
day
,
and
pierced
through
the
canvas
walls
of
the
tent
.
It
was
very
bitter
;
more
keenly
felt
because
of
the
previous
burning
of
the
sun
.
There
was
no
cloak
or
covering
to
fling
over
him
;
she
took
off
her
blue
cloth
tunic
and
threw
it
across
his
chest
,
and
,
shivering
despite
herself
,
curled
closer
to
the
little
fire
.
She
did
not
know
why
she
did
it
—
he
was
nothing
to
her
—
and
yet
she
kept
herself
wide
awake
through
the
dark
autumn
night
,
lest
he
should
sigh
or
stir
and
she
not
hear
him
.
"
I
have
saved
his
life
twice
,
"
she
thought
,
looking
at
him
;
"
beware
of
the
third
time
,
they
say
!
"
He
moved
restlessly
,
and
she
went
to
him
.
His
face
was
flushed
now
;
his
breath
came
rapidly
and
shortly
;
there
was
some
fever
on
him
.
The
linen
was
displaced
from
his
wounds
;
she
dipped
it
again
in
water
,
and
laid
the
cooled
bands
on
them
.
"
Ah
,
bah
!
If
I
were
not
unsexed
enough
for
this
,
how
would
it
be
with
you
now
?
"
she
said
in
her
teeth
.
He
tossed
wearily
to
and
fro
;
detached
words
caught
her
ear
as
he
muttered
them
:
"
Let
it
be
,
let
it
be
—
he
is
welcome
!
How
could
I
prove
it
at
his
cost
?
I
saved
him
—
I
could
do
that
.
It
was
not
much
—
—
"
She
listened
with
intense
anxiety
to
hear
the
other
whispers
ending
the
sentence
,
but
they
were
stifled
and
broken
.
"
Tiens
!
"
she
murmured
below
her
breath
.
"
It
is
for
some
other
he
has
ruined
himself
.
"
She
could
not
catch
the
words
that
followed
.
They
were
in
an
unknown
language
to
her
,
for
she
knew
nothing
of
English
,
and
they
poured
fast
and
obscure
from
his
lips
as
he
moved
in
feverish
unrest
;
the
wine
that
had
saved
him
from
exhaustion
inflaming
his
brain
in
his
sleep
.
Now
and
then
French
phrases
crossed
the
English
ones
;
she
leaned
down
to
seize
their
meaning
till
her
cheek
was
against
his
forehead
,
till
her
lips
touched
his
hair
;
and
at
that
half
caress
her
heart
beat
,
her
face
flushed
,
her
mouth
trembled
with
a
too
vivid
joy
,
with
an
impulse
,
half
fear
and
half
longing
,
that
had
never
so
moved
her
before
.
"
If
I
had
my
birthright
,
"
he
muttered
in
her
own
tongue
.
"
If
I
had
it
—
would
she
look
so
cold
then
?
She
might
love
me
—
women
used
once
.
O
God
!
if
she
had
not
looked
on
me
,
I
had
never
known
all
I
have
lost
!
"
Cigarette
started
as
if
a
knife
had
stabbed
her
,
and
sprang
up
from
her
rest
beside
him
.
"
She
—
she
—
always
she
!
"
she
muttered
fiercely
,
while
her
face
grew
duskily
scarlet
in
the
fire-glow
of
the
tent
;
and
she
went
slowly
away
,
back
to
the
low
wood
fire
.
This
was
to
be
ever
her
reward
!
Her
eyes
glistened
and
flashed
with
the
fiery
vengeful
passions
of
her
hot
and
jealous
instincts
.
Cigarette
had
in
her
the
violence
as
she
had
the
nobility
of
a
grand
nature
that
has
gone
wholly
untutored
and
unguided
;
and
she
had
the
power
of
southern
vengeance
in
her
,
though
she
had
also
the
scant
and
rapid
impulse
to
forgiveness
of
a
generous
and
sunlit
temper
.
It
was
bitter
,
beyond
any
other
bitterness
that
could
have
wounded
her
,
for
the
spoilt
,
victorious
,
imperious
,
little
empress
of
the
Army
of
Algeria
to
feel
that
,
though
she
had
given
his
life
twice
back
to
this
man
,
she
was
less
to
him
than
the
tiny
white
dog
that
nestled
in
his
breast
;
that
she
who
never
before
had
endured
a
slight
,
or
known
what
neglect
could
mean
,
gave
care
,
and
pity
,
and
aid
,
and
even
tenderness
,
to
one
whose
only
thought
was
for
a
woman
who
had
accorded
him
nothing
but
a
few
chill
syllables
of
haughty
condescension
!
He
lay
there
unconscious
of
her
presence
,
tossing
wearily
to
and
fro
in
fevered
unrefreshing
sleep
,
murmuring
incoherent
words
of
French
and
English
strangely
mingled
;
and
Cigarette
crouched
on
the
ground
,
with
the
fire-light
playing
all
over
her
picturesque
,
child-like
beauty
,
and
her
large
eyes
strained
and
savage
,
yet
with
a
strange
mistful
pain
in
them
,
looking
out
at
the
moonlight
where
the
headless
body
lay
in
a
cold
grey
sea
of
shadow
.
Yet
she
did
not
leave
him
.
She
was
too
generous
for
that
.
"
What
is
right
is
right
.
He
is
a
soldier
of
France
,
"
she
muttered
,
while
she
kept
her
vigil
.
She
felt
no
want
of
sleep
;
a
hard
hateful
wakefulness
seemed
to
have
banished
all
rest
from
her
;
she
stayed
there
all
the
night
through
.
Whenever
she
could
ease
or
aid
him
she
rose
and
did
so
,
with
the
touch
of
water
on
his
forehead
,
or
of
cooled
wine
to
his
lips
,
by
the
alteration
of
the
linen
on
his
wounds
,
or
the
shifting
of
the
rough
forage
that
made
his
bed
.
But
she
did
it
without
anything
of
that
loving
lingering
attendance
she
had
given
before
;
she
never
once
drew
out
the
task
longer
than
it
needed
,
or
let
her
hands
wander
among
his
hair
,
or
over
his
lips
,
as
she
had
done
before
.
And
he
never
once
was
conscious
of
it
;
he
never
once
knew
that
she
was
near
.
He
did
not
waken
from
the
painful
,
delirious
,
stupified
slumber
that
had
fallen
on
him
;
he
only
vaguely
felt
that
he
was
suffering
pain
;
he
only
vaguely
dreamed
of
what
he
murmured
of
—
his
past
,
and
the
beauty
of
the
woman
who
had
brought
all
the
memories
of
that
past
back
on
him
.
And
this
was
Cigarette
's
reward
—
to
hear
him
mutter
wearily
of
the
proud
eyes
and
of
the
lost
smile
of
another
!
The
dawn
came
at
last
;
her
constant
care
and
the
skill
with
which
she
had
cooled
and
dressed
his
wounds
had
done
him
infinite
service
;
the
fever
had
subsided
,
and
towards
morning
his
incoherent
words
ceased
,
his
breathing
grew
calmer
and
more
tranquil
;
he
fell
asleep
—
sleep
that
was
profound
,
dreamless
,
and
refreshing
.
She
looked
at
him
with
a
tempestuous
shadow
darkening
her
face
that
yet
was
soft
with
a
tenderness
that
she
could
not
banish
.
She
hated
him
;
she
ought
to
have
stabbed
or
shot
him
rather
than
have
tended
him
thus
;
he
neglected
her
,
and
only
thought
of
that
woman
of
his
old
Order
.
As
a
daughter
of
the
People
,
as
a
child
of
the
Army
,
as
a
soldier
of
France
,
she
ought
to
have
killed
him
rather
than
have
caressed
his
hair
and
soothed
his
pain
!
Pshaw
!
She
ground
one
in
another
her
tiny
white
teeth
,
that
were
like
a
spaniel
's
.
Then
gently
,
very
gently
,
lest
she
should
waken
him
,
she
took
her
tunic
skirt
with
which
she
had
covered
him
from
the
chills
of
the
night
,
put
more
broken
wood
on
the
fading
fire
,
and
with
a
last
lingering
look
at
him
where
he
slept
,
passed
out
from
the
tent
as
the
sun
rose
in
a
flushed
and
beautiful
dawn
.
He
would
never
know
that
she
had
saved
him
thus
:
he
never
should
know
it
,
she
vowed
in
her
heart
.
Cigarette
was
very
haughty
in
her
own
wayward
,
careless
fashion
.
At
a
word
of
love
from
him
,
at
a
kiss
from
his
lips
,
at
a
prayer
from
his
voice
,
she
would
have
given
herself
to
him
in
all
the
abandonment
of
a
first
passion
,
and
have
gloried
in
being
known
as
his
mistress
.
But
she
would
have
perished
by
a
thousand
deaths
rather
than
have
sought
him
through
his
pity
or
through
his
gratitude
;
rather
than
have
accepted
the
compassion
of
a
heart
that
gave
its
warmth
to
another
;
rather
than
have
ever
let
him
learn
that
he
was
any
more
to
her
than
all
their
other
countless
comrades
who
filled
up
the
hosts
of
Africa
.
"
He
will
never
know
,
"
she
said
to
herself
,
as
she
passed
through
the
disordered
camp
,
and
in
a
distant
quarter
coiled
herself
amongst
the
hay
of
a
forage-waggon
,
and
covered
up
in
dry
grass
,
like
a
bird
in
a
nest
,
let
her
tired
limbs
lie
and
her
aching
eyes
close
in
repose
.
She
was
very
tired
;
and
every
now
and
then
as
she
slept
a
quick
sobbing
breath
shook
her
as
she
slumbered
,
like
a
worn-out
fawn
who
has
been
wounded
whilst
it
played
.
CHAPTER
III
.
THE
LEATHERN
ZACKRIST
.
With
the
réveillé
and
the
full
daybreak
Cigarette
woke
,
herself
again
;
she
gave
a
little
petulant
shake
to
her
fairy
form
when
she
thought
of
what
folly
she
had
been
guilty
of
.
"
Ah
bah
!
you
deserve
to
be
shot
,
"
she
said
to
herself
afresh
.
"
One
would
think
you
were
a
Silver
Pheasant
—
you
grow
such
a
little
fool
!
"
Love
was
all
very
well
,
so
Cigarette
's
philosophy
had
always
reckoned
;
a
chocolate
bonbon
,
a
firework
,
a
bagatelle
,
a
draught
of
champagne
,
to
flavour
an
idle
moment
.
"
Vin
et
Vénus
"
she
had
always
been
accustomed
to
see
worshipped
together
,
as
became
their
alliterative
;
it
was
a
bit
of
fun
—
that
was
all
.
A
passion
that
had
pain
in
it
had
never
touched
the
Little
One
;
she
had
disdained
it
with
lightest
,
airiest
contumely
.
"
If
your
dragée
have
a
bitter
almond
in
it
,
eat
the
sugar
and
throw
the
almond
away
,
you
goose
!
that
is
simple
enough
,
is
n't
it
?
Bah
!
I
do
n't
pity
the
people
who
eat
the
bitter
almond
;
not
I
—
ce
sont
bien
bêtes
,
ces
gens
!
"
she
had
said
once
,
when
arguing
with
an
officer
on
the
absurdity
of
a
melancholy
love
that
possessed
him
,
and
whose
sadness
she
rallied
most
unmercifully
.
Now
,
for
once
in
her
young
life
,
the
Child
of
France
found
that
it
was
remotely
possible
to
meet
with
almonds
so
bitter
that
the
taste
will
remain
and
taint
all
things
,
do
what
philosophy
may
to
throw
its
acridity
aside
.
With
the
réveillé
she
awoke
,
herself
again
,
though
she
had
not
had
more
than
an
hour
's
slumber
—
awoke
,
it
is
true
,
with
a
dull
ache
at
her
heart
that
was
very
new
and
bitterly
unwelcome
to
her
,
but
with
the
buoyant
vivacity
and
the
proud
carelessness
of
her
nature
in
arms
against
it
,
and
with
that
gaiety
of
childhood
inherent
to
her
repelling
,
and
very
nearly
successfully
,
the
foreign
depression
that
weighed
on
it
.
Her
first
thought
was
to
take
care
that
he
should
never
learn
what
she
had
done
for
him
.
The
Princess
Corona
would
not
have
more
utterly
disdained
to
solicit
regard
through
making
a
claim
upon
gratitude
than
the
fiery
little
warrior
of
France
would
have
done
.
She
went
straight
to
the
Tringlo
who
had
known
her
at
her
mission
of
mercy
.
"
Georges
,
mon
brave
,
"
said
the
Little
One
,
with
that
accent
of
authority
which
was
as
haughty
as
any
General
's
,
"
do
you
know
how
that
Chasseur
is
that
we
brought
in
last
night
?
"
"
Not
heard
,
ma
belle
,
"
said
the
cheery
little
Tringlo
,
who
was
hard
pressed
;
for
there
was
much
to
be
done
,
and
he
was
very
busy
.
"
What
is
to
be
done
with
the
wounded
?
"
Georges
lifted
his
eyebrows
:
"
Ma
belle
!
there
are
very
few
.
There
are
hundreds
of
dead
.
It
was
a
duel
à
outrance
yesterday
.
The
few
there
are
we
shall
take
with
an
escort
of
Spahis
to
head-quarters
.
"
"
Good
.
I
will
go
with
you
.
Have
a
heed
,
Georges
,
never
to
whisper
that
I
had
anything
to
do
with
saving
that
man
I
called
to
you
about
.
"
"
And
why
,
my
Little
One
?
"
"
Because
I
desire
you
!
"
said
Cigarette
,
with
her
most
imperious
emphasis
.
"
They
say
he
is
English
,
and
a
ruined
milord
,
pardieu
!
Now
I
would
not
have
an
Englishman
think
I
thought
his
six
feet
of
carcase
worth
saving
for
a
ransom
.
"
The
Tringlo
chuckled
;
he
was
an
Anglophobist
.
In
the
Chinese
expedition
his
share
of
"
loot
"
had
been
robbed
from
him
by
a
trick
of
which
two
English
soldiers
had
been
the
concocters
,
and
a
vehement
animosity
against
the
whole
British
race
had
been
the
fruit
of
it
in
him
.
"
Non
,
non
,
non
!
"
he
answered
her
,
heartily
.
"
I
understand
.
Thou
art
very
right
,
Cigarette
.
If
we
have
ever
obliged
an
Englishman
,
he
thinks
his
obligation
to
us
opens
him
a
neat
little
door
through
which
to
cheat
us
.
It
is
very
dangerous
to
oblige
the
English
;
they
always
hate
you
for
it
.
That
is
their
way
.
They
may
have
virtues
;
they
may
,
"
he
added
,
dubiously
,
but
with
an
impressive
air
of
strictest
impartiality
,
"
but
among
them
is
not
written
gratitude
.
Ask
that
man
,
Rac
,
how
they
treat
their
soldiers
!
"
and
M
.
Georges
hurried
away
to
his
mules
and
his
duties
,
thinking
with
loving
regret
of
the
delicious
Chinese
plunder
of
which
the
dogs
of
Albion
had
deprived
him
.
"
He
is
safe
!
"
thought
Cigarette
;
of
the
patrol
who
had
seen
her
she
was
not
afraid
—
he
had
never
noticed
with
whom
she
was
when
he
had
put
his
head
into
the
scullion
's
tent
;
and
she
made
her
way
towards
the
place
where
she
had
left
him
,
to
see
how
it
went
with
this
man
whom
she
was
so
careful
should
never
know
that
which
he
had
owed
to
her
.
It
went
well
with
him
,
thanks
to
her
;
care
,
and
strengthening
nourishment
,
and
the
skill
of
her
tendance
,
had
warded
off
all
danger
from
his
wound
.
The
bruise
and
pressure
from
the
weight
of
the
horse
had
been
more
ominous
,
and
he
could
not
raise
himself
or
even
breathe
without
severe
pain
;
but
his
fever
had
left
him
,
and
he
had
just
been
lifted
into
a
mule-drawn
ambulance-waggon
as
Cigarette
reached
the
spot
.
"
How
goes
the
day
,
Monsieur
Victor
?
So
you
got
sharp
scratches
,
I
hear
?
Ah
!
that
was
a
splendid
thing
we
had
yesterday
!
When
did
you
go
down
?
We
charged
together
!
"
she
cried
gaily
to
him
;
then
her
voice
dropped
suddenly
,
with
an
indescribable
sweetness
and
change
of
tone
.
"
So
!
—
you
suffer
still
?
"
she
asked
,
softly
.
Coming
close
up
to
where
he
lay
on
the
straw
,
she
saw
the
exhausted
languor
of
his
regard
,
the
heavy
darkness
under
his
eyelids
,
the
effort
with
which
his
lips
moved
as
the
faint
words
came
broken
through
them
.
"
Not
very
much
,
ma
belle
,
I
thank
you
.
I
shall
be
fit
for
harness
in
a
day
or
two
.
Do
not
let
them
send
me
into
hospital
.
I
shall
be
perfectly
—
well
—
soon
.
"
Cigarette
swayed
herself
upon
the
wheel
and
leaned
towards
him
,
touching
and
changing
his
bandages
with
clever
hands
:
"
They
have
dressed
your
wound
ill
;
whose
doing
is
that
?
"
"
It
is
nothing
.
I
have
been
half
cut
to
pieces
before
now
;
this
is
a
mere
bagatelle
.
It
is
only
—
—
"
"
That
it
hurts
you
to
breathe
?
I
know
!
Have
they
given
you
anything
to
eat
this
morning
?
"
"
No.
Everything
is
in
confusion
.
We
—
—
"
She
did
not
stay
for
the
conclusion
of
his
sentence
;
she
had
darted
off
,
quick
as
a
swallow
.
She
knew
what
she
had
left
in
her
dead
scullion
's
tent
.
Everything
was
in
confusion
,
as
he
had
said
.
Of
the
few
hundreds
that
had
been
left
after
the
terrific
onslaught
of
the
past
day
,
some
were
employed
far
out
,
thrusting
their
own
dead
into
the
soil
;
others
were
removing
the
tents
and
all
the
equipage
of
the
camp
;
others
were
busied
with
the
wounded
,
of
whom
the
greatest
sufferers
were
to
be
borne
to
the
nearest
hospital
(
that
nearest
many
leagues
away
over
the
wild
and
barren
country
)
;
while
those
who
were
likely
to
be
again
soon
ready
for
service
were
to
be
escorted
to
the
head-quarters
of
the
main
army
.
Among
the
latter
Cecil
had
passionately
entreated
to
be
numbered
;
his
prayer
was
granted
to
the
man
who
had
kept
at
the
head
of
his
Chasseurs
and
borne
aloft
the
Tricolour
through
the
whole
of
the
war-tempest
on
which
the
dawn
had
risen
,
and
which
had
barely
lulled
and
sunk
by
the
setting
of
the
sun
.
Châteauroy
was
away
with
the
other
five
of
his
squadrons
;
and
the
Zouave
chef
de
bataillon
,
the
only
officer
of
any
rank
who
had
come
alive
through
the
conflict
,
had
himself
visited
Bertie
,
and
given
him
warm
words
of
eulogy
,
and
even
of
gratitude
,
that
had
soldierly
sincerity
and
cordiality
in
them
.
"
Your
conduct
was
magnificent
,
"
he
had
said
,
as
he
had
turned
away
.
"
It
shall
be
my
care
that
it
is
duly
reported
and
rewarded
.
"
Cigarette
was
but
a
few
seconds
absent
;
she
soon
bounded
back
like
the
swift
little
chamois
she
was
,
bringing
with
her
a
huge
bowl
full
of
red
wine
with
bread
broken
in
it
.
"
This
is
the
best
I
could
get
,
"
she
said
;
"
it
is
better
than
nothing
.
It
will
strengthen
you
.
"
"
What
have
you
had
yourself
,
petite
?
"
"
Ah
bah
!
Leave
off
thinking
for
others
;
I
have
breakfasted
long
ago
,
"
she
answered
him
.
(
She
had
only
eaten
a
biscuit
well-nigh
as
hard
as
a
flint
.
)
"
Take
it
—
here
,
I
will
hold
it
for
you
.
"
She
perched
herself
on
the
wheel
like
a
bird
on
a
twig
;
she
had
a
bird
's
power
of
alighting
and
sustaining
herself
on
the
most
difficult
and
most
airy
elevation
;
but
Cecil
turned
his
eyes
on
the
only
soldier
in
the
cart
beside
himself
,
one
of
the
worst
men
in
his
regiment
—
a
murderous
,
sullen
,
black-browed
,
evil
wretch
,
fitter
for
the
bench
of
the
convict-galley
than
for
the
ranks
of
the
cavalry
.
"
Give
half
to
Zackrist
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
know
no
hunger
;
and
he
has
more
need
of
it
.
"
"
Zackrist
!
that
is
the
man
who
stole
your
lance
and
accoutrements
,
and
got
you
into
trouble
by
taking
them
to
pawn
in
your
name
,
a
year
and
more
ago
.
"
"
Well
,
what
of
that
?
He
is
not
the
less
hungry
.
"
"
What
of
that
?
Why
,
you
were
going
to
be
turned
into
the
First
Battalion
45
.
disgraced
for
the
affair
,
because
you
would
not
tell
of
him
:
if
Vireflou
had
not
found
out
the
rights
of
the
matter
in
time
!
"
"
What
has
that
to
do
with
it
?
"
"
This
,
Monsieur
Victor
,
that
you
are
a
fool
.
"
"
I
dare
say
I
am
.
But
that
does
not
make
Zackrist
less
hungry
.
"
He
took
the
bowl
from
her
hands
,
and
emptying
a
little
of
it
into
the
wooden
bidon
that
hung
to
her
belt
,
kept
that
for
himself
,
and
stretching
his
arm
across
the
straw
,
gave
the
bowl
to
Zackrist
,
who
had
watched
it
with
the
longing
ravenous
eyes
of
a
starving
wolf
,
and
seized
it
with
rabid
avidity
.
A
smile
passed
over
Cecil
's
face
,
amused
despite
the
pain
he
suffered
.
"
That
is
one
of
my
'
sensational
tricks
,
'
as
M
.
de
Châteauroy
calls
them
.
Poor
Zackrist
!
did
you
see
his
eyes
?
"
"
A
jackal
's
eyes
,
yes
!
"
said
Cigarette
,
who
,
between
her
admiration
for
the
action
and
her
impatience
at
the
waste
of
her
good
bread
and
wine
,
hardly
knew
whether
to
applaud
or
to
deride
him
.
"
What
recompense
do
you
think
you
will
get
?
He
will
steal
your
things
again
,
first
chance
.
"
"
May
be
.
I
do
n't
think
he
will
.
But
he
is
very
hungry
all
the
same
;
that
is
about
the
only
question
just
now
,
"
he
answered
her
,
as
he
drank
and
ate
his
portion
,
with
a
need
of
it
that
could
willingly
have
made
him
take
thrice
as
much
,
though
for
the
sake
of
Zackrist
he
had
denied
his
want
of
it
.
The
Zackrist
himself
,
who
could
hear
perfectly
what
was
said
,
uttered
no
word
;
but
when
he
had
finished
the
contents
of
the
bowl
,
lay
looking
at
his
corporal
with
an
odd
gleam
in
the
dark
sullen
savage
depths
of
his
hollow
eyes
.
He
was
not
going
to
say
a
word
of
thanks
;
no
!
—
none
had
ever
heard
a
grateful
or
a
decent
word
from
him
in
his
life
;
he
was
proud
of
that
.
He
was
the
most
foul-mouthed
brute
in
the
army
,
and
,
like
Snake
in
the
School
for
Scandal
,
thought
a
good
action
would
have
ruined
his
character
for
ever
.
Nevertheless
,
there
came
into
his
cunning
and
ferocious
eyes
a
glisten
of
the
same
light
which
had
been
in
the
little
gamin
's
when
first
by
the
bivouac-fire
he
had
murmured
,
"
Picpon
s'en
souviendra
.
"
"
When
anybody
stole
from
me
,
"
muttered
Cigarette
,
"
I
shot
him
.
"
"
You
would
have
fed
him
had
he
been
starving
.
Do
not
belie
yourself
,
Cigarette
;
you
are
too
generous
ever
to
be
vindictive
.
"
"
Pooh
!
Revenge
is
one
's
right
.
"
"
I
doubt
that
.
We
are
none
of
us
good
enough
to
claim
it
,
at
any
rate
.
"
Cigarette
shrugged
her
shoulders
in
silence
;
then
poising
herself
on
the
wheel
,
she
sprang
from
thence
on
to
the
back
of
her
little
mare
which
she
had
brought
up
,
having
the
reins
in
one
of
her
hands
and
the
wine-bowl
in
the
other
;
the
animal
had
not
had
a
scratch
in
the
battle
,
and
was
fresh
and
bright
after
the
night
's
repose
.
"
I
will
ride
with
you
,
with
my
Spahis
,
"
she
said
,
as
a
young
queen
might
have
promised
protection
from
her
escort
.
He
thanked
her
,
and
sank
back
among
the
straw
,
exhausted
and
worn
out
with
pain
and
with
languor
;
the
weight
that
seemed
to
oppress
his
chest
was
almost
as
hard
to
bear
as
when
the
actual
pressure
of
his
dead
charger
's
body
had
been
on
him
.
Yet
,
as
he
had
said
,
it
was
but
a
bagatelle
beside
the
all
but
mortal
wounds
,
the
agonising
neuralgia
,
the
prostrating
fever
,
the
torture
of
bullet-torn
nerves
,
and
the
scorching
fire
of
inflamed
sword-wounds
,
that
had
in
their
turn
been
borne
by
him
in
his
twelve
years
of
African
service
—
things
which
,
to
men
who
have
never
suffered
them
,
sound
like
the
romanced
horrors
of
an
exaggerated
imagination
;
yet
things
which
are
daily
and
quietly
borne
,
by
such
soldiers
as
the
soldiers
of
the
Algerian
Army
,
as
the
natural
accompaniments
of
a
military
life
—
borne
,
too
,
in
brave
simple
unconscious
heroism
by
men
who
know
well
that
the
only
reward
for
it
will
be
their
own
self-contentment
at
having
been
true
to
the
traditions
of
their
regiment
.
Four
other
troopers
were
placed
on
the
straw
beside
him
,
and
the
mule-carts
with
their
mournful
loads
rolled
slowly
out
of
camp
eastward
towards
the
quarters
of
the
main
army
;
the
Spahis
,
glowing
red
against
the
sun
,
escorting
them
,
with
their
darling
in
their
midst
,
while
from
their
deep
chests
they
shouted
war-songs
in
Sabir
with
all
the
wild
and
riotous
delight
that
the
triumph
of
victory
and
the
glow
of
bloodshed
roused
in
those
who
combined
in
them
the
fire
of
France
and
the
fanaticism
of
Islamism
—
an
irresistible
union
.
Though
the
nights
were
now
cold
,
and
before
long
even
the
advent
of
snow
might
be
looked
for
,
the
days
were
hot
and
even
scorching
still
.
Cigarette
and
her
Spahis
took
no
heed
of
it
;
they
were
desert
born
and
bred
;
and
she
was
well-nigh
invulnerable
to
heat
as
any
little
salamander
.
But
,
although
they
were
screened
as
well
as
they
could
be
under
an
improvised
awning
,
the
wounded
men
suffered
terribly
.
Gnats
and
mosquitoes
and
all
the
winged
things
of
the
African
air
tormented
them
,
and
tossing
on
the
dry
hot
straw
they
grew
delirious
,
some
falling
asleep
and
murmuring
incoherently
,
others
lying
with
wide
open
eyes
of
half-senseless
straining
misery
.
Cigarette
had
known
well
how
it
would
be
with
them
;
she
had
accompanied
such
escorts
many
a
time
;
and
ever
and
again
when
they
halted
she
dismounted
and
came
to
them
,
and
mixed
wine
with
some
water
that
she
had
slung
a
barrel
of
to
her
saddle
,
and
gave
it
to
them
,
and
moved
their
bandages
,
and
spoke
to
them
with
a
soft
caressing
consolation
that
pacified
them
as
if
by
some
magic
.
She
had
led
them
like
a
young
lion
on
to
the
slaughter
in
the
past
day
;
she
soothed
them
now
with
a
gentleness
that
the
gentlest
daughter
of
the
Church
could
not
have
surpassed
.
The
way
was
long
;
the
road
ill
formed
,
leading
for
the
most
part
across
a
sear
and
desolate
country
,
with
nothing
to
relieve
its
barrenness
except
long
stretches
of
the
great
spear-headed
reeds
.
At
noon
the
heat
was
intense
;
the
little
cavalcade
halted
for
half
an
hour
under
the
shade
of
some
black
towering
rocks
which
broke
the
monotony
of
the
district
,
and
commenced
a
more
hilly
and
more
picturesque
portion
of
the
country
.
Cigarette
came
to
the
side
of
the
temporary
ambulance
in
which
Cecil
was
placed
.
He
was
asleep
—
sleeping
for
once
peacefully
with
little
trace
of
pain
upon
his
features
,
as
he
had
slept
the
previous
night
.
She
saw
that
his
face
and
chest
had
not
been
touched
by
the
stinging
insect-swarm
;
he
was
doubly
screened
by
a
shirt
hung
above
him
dexterously
on
some
bent
sticks
.
"
Who
has
done
that
?
"
thought
Cigarette
.
As
she
glanced
round
she
saw
:
—
without
any
linen
to
cover
him
,
Zackrist
had
reared
himself
up
and
leaned
slightly
forward
over
against
his
comrade
.
The
shirt
that
protected
Cecil
was
his
;
and
on
his
own
bare
shoulders
and
mighty
chest
the
tiny
armies
of
the
flies
and
gnats
were
fastened
,
doing
their
will
uninterrupted
.
As
he
caught
her
glance
,
a
sullen
ruddy
glow
of
shame
shone
through
the
black
hard
skin
of
his
sunburnt
visage
—
shame
to
which
he
had
been
never
touched
when
discovered
in
any
one
of
his
guilty
and
barbarous
actions
.
"
Dame
!
"
he
growled
,
savagely
;
"
he
gave
me
his
wine
;
one
must
do
something
in
return
.
Not
that
I
feel
the
insects
—
not
I
;
my
skin
is
leather
,
see
you
?
they
ca
n't
get
through
it
;
but
his
is
une
peau
de
femme
—
white
and
soft
—
bah
!
like
tissue-paper
!
"
"
I
see
,
Zackrist
;
you
are
right
.
A
French
soldier
can
never
take
a
kindness
from
an
English
fellow
without
outrunning
him
in
generosity
.
Look
—
here
is
some
drink
for
you
.
"
She
knew
too
well
the
strange
nature
with
which
she
had
to
deal
to
say
a
syllable
of
praise
to
him
for
his
self-devotion
,
or
to
appear
to
see
that
,
despite
his
boast
of
his
leather
skin
,
the
stings
of
the
cruel
winged
tribes
were
drawing
his
blood
and
causing
him
alike
pain
and
irritation
which
,
under
that
sun
,
and
added
to
the
torment
of
his
gunshot-wound
,
were
a
martyrdom
as
great
as
the
noblest
saint
ever
endured
.
"
Tiens
—
tiens
!
I
did
him
wrong
,
"
murmured
Cigarette
.
"
That
is
what
they
are
—
the
children
of
France
—
even
when
they
are
at
their
worst
,
like
that
devil
,
Zackrist
.
Who
dare
say
they
are
not
the
heroes
of
the
world
?
"
And
all
through
the
march
she
gave
Zackrist
a
double
portion
of
her
water
dashed
with
red
wine
,
that
was
so
welcome
and
so
precious
to
the
parched
and
aching
throats
;
and
all
through
the
march
Cecil
lay
asleep
,
and
the
man
who
had
thieved
from
him
,
the
man
whose
soul
was
stained
with
murder
and
pillage
and
rapine
,
sat
erect
beside
him
,
letting
the
insects
suck
his
veins
and
pierce
his
flesh
.
It
was
only
when
they
drew
near
the
camp
of
the
main
army
that
Zackrist
beat
off
the
swarm
and
drew
his
old
shirt
over
his
head
.
"
You
do
not
want
to
say
anything
to
him
,
"
he
muttered
to
Cigarette
.
"
I
am
of
leather
,
you
know
;
I
have
not
felt
it
.
"
She
nodded
;
she
understood
him
.
Yet
his
shoulders
and
his
chest
were
well-nigh
flayed
,
despite
the
tough
and
horny
skin
of
which
he
made
his
boast
.
"
Dieu
!
we
are
droll
!
"
mused
Cigarette
.
"
If
we
do
a
good
thing
,
we
hide
it
as
if
it
were
a
bit
of
stolen
meat
,
we
are
so
afraid
it
should
be
found
out
;
but
,
if
they
do
one
in
the
world
there
,
they
bray
it
at
the
tops
of
their
voices
from
the
houses
'
roofs
,
and
run
all
down
the
streets
screaming
about
it
for
fear
it
should
be
lost
.
Dieu
!
we
are
droll
!
"
And
she
dashed
the
spurs
into
her
mare
and
galloped
off
at
the
height
of
her
speed
into
camp
—
a
very
city
of
canvas
,
buzzing
with
the
hum
of
life
,
regulated
with
the
marvellous
skill
and
precision
of
French
warfare
,
yet
with
the
carelessness
and
the
picturesqueness
of
the
desert-life
pervading
it
.
"
C'est
la
Cigarette
!
"
ran
from
mouth
to
mouth
as
the
bay
mare
with
her
little
Amazon
rider
,
followed
by
the
scarlet
cloud
of
the
Spahis
,
all
a-blaze
like
poppies
in
the
sun
,
rose
in
sight
,
thrown
out
against
the
azure
of
the
skies
.
What
she
had
done
had
been
told
long
before
by
an
orderly
,
riding
hard
in
the
early
night
to
take
the
news
of
the
battle
;
and
the
whole
host
was
on
watch
for
its
darling
—
the
saviour
of
the
honour
of
France
.
Like
wave
rushing
on
wave
of
some
tempestuous
ocean
,
the
men
swept
out
to
meet
her
in
one
great
surging
tide
of
life
,
impetuous
,
passionate
,
idolatrous
,
exultant
,
with
all
the
vivid
ardour
,
all
the
uncontrolled
emotion
,
of
natures
south-born
,
sun-nurtured
.
They
broke
away
from
their
mid-day
rest
as
from
their
military
toil
,
moved
as
by
one
swift
breath
of
fire
,
and
flung
themselves
out
to
meet
her
,
the
chorus
of
a
thousand
voices
ringing
in
deafening
vivas
to
the
skies
.
She
was
enveloped
in
that
vast
sea
of
eager
furious
lives
,
in
that
dizzy
tumult
of
vociferous
cries
,
and
stretching
hands
,
and
upturned
faces
.
As
her
soldiers
had
done
the
night
before
,
so
these
did
now
—
kissing
her
hands
,
her
dress
,
her
feet
,
sending
her
name
in
thunder
through
the
sunlit
air
,
lifting
her
from
off
her
horse
,
and
bearing
her
,
in
a
score
of
stalwart
arms
,
triumphant
in
their
midst
.
She
was
theirs
—
their
own
—
the
Child
of
the
Army
,
the
Little
One
whose
voice
above
their
dying
brethren
had
the
sweetness
of
an
angel
's
song
,
and
whose
feet
,
in
their
hours
of
revelry
,
flew
like
the
swift
and
dazzling
flight
of
gold-winged
orioles
.
And
she
had
saved
the
honour
of
their
Eagles
;
she
had
given
to
them
and
to
France
their
god
of
Victory
.
They
loved
her
—
O
God
,
how
they
loved
her
!
—
with
that
intense
,
breathless
,
intoxicating
love
of
a
multitude
which
,
though
it
may
stone
to-morrow
what
it
adores
to-day
,
has
yet
for
those
on
whom
it
has
once
been
given
thus
a
power
no
other
love
can
know
—
a
passion
unutterably
sad
,
deliriously
strong
.
That
passion
moved
her
strangely
.
As
she
looked
down
upon
them
,
she
knew
that
not
one
man
breathed
amongst
that
vast
tumultuous
mass
but
would
have
died
that
moment
at
her
word
;
not
one
mouth
moved
amongst
that
countless
host
but
breathed
her
name
in
pride
,
and
love
,
and
honour
.
She
might
be
a
careless
young
coquette
,
a
awless
little
brigand
,
a
child
of
sunny
caprices
,
an
elf
of
dauntless
mischief
;
but
she
was
more
than
these
.
The
divine
fire
of
genius
had
touched
her
,
and
Cigarette
would
have
perished
for
her
country
not
less
surely
than
Jeanne
d'Arc
.
The
holiness
of
an
impersonal
love
,
the
glow
of
an
imperishable
patriotism
,
the
melancholy
of
a
passionate
pity
for
the
concrete
and
unnumbered
sufferings
of
the
people
were
in
her
,
instinctive
and
inborn
,
as
fragrance
in
the
heart
of
flowers
.
And
all
these
together
moved
her
now
,
and
made
her
young
face
beautiful
as
she
looked
down
upon
the
crowding
soldiery
.
"
It
was
nothing
,
"
she
answered
them
—
"
it
was
nothing
.
It
was
for
France
.
"
For
France
!
They
shouted
back
the
beloved
word
with
tenfold
joy
;
and
the
great
sea
of
life
beneath
her
tossed
to
and
fro
in
stormy
triumph
,
in
frantic
paradise
of
victory
,
ringing
her
name
with
that
of
France
upon
the
air
,
in
thunder-shouts
like
spears
of
steel
smiting
on
shields
of
bronze
.
But
she
stretched
her
hand
out
,
and
swept
it
backward
to
the
desert-border
of
the
south
with
a
gesture
that
had
awe
for
them
.
"
Hush
!
"
she
said
,
softly
,
with
an
accent
in
her
voice
that
hushed
the
riot
of
their
rejoicing
homage
till
it
lulled
like
the
lull
in
a
storm
.
"
Give
me
no
honour
whilst
they
sleep
yonder
.
With
the
dead
lies
the
glory
!
"
CHAPTER
IV
.
BY
THE
BIVOUAC-FIRE
.
Le
Roi
Gaillard
qui
s'appelle
la
Guerre
,
C'est
mon
souverain
tout
débonnair
;
Au
bouche
qui
rit
,
au
main
qui
tue
,
Au
front
d'airain
,
aux
yeux
de
feu
!
Comme
il
est
beau
ce
roi
si
gai
,
Qui
fait
le
diable
à
quatre
au
gré
,
Qui
brûle
,
qui
boit
,
qui
foudre
,
qui
fume
,
Qui
aime
le
vin
,
le
sang
,
l'écume
,
Qui
jette
la
torche
—
"
Hola
!
nous
v'la
!
"
cried
Cigarette
,
interrupting
herself
in
her
chant
in
honour
of
the
attributes
of
war
,
as
the
Tringlo
's
mules
which
she
was
driving
some
three
weeks
after
the
fray
of
Zarâila
,
stopped
,
by
sheer
force
of
old
habit
,
in
the
middle
of
a
green
plateau
on
the
outskirts
of
a
camp
pitched
in
its
centre
,
and
overlooked
by
brown
rugged
scarps
of
rock
,
stunted
bushes
on
their
summits
,
and
here
and
there
a
maritime
pine
clinging
to
their
naked
slopes
.
At
sight
of
the
food-laden
little
beasts
,
and
the
well-known
form
behind
them
,
the
Tirailleurs
,
the
Indigènes
,
and
the
Zouaves
,
on
whose
side
of
the
encampment
she
had
approached
,
rushed
towards
her
with
frantic
shouts
,
and
wild
delight
,
and
vehement
hurrahs
in
a
tempest
of
vociferous
welcome
that
might
have
stunned
any
ears
less
used
,
and
startled
any
nerves
less
steeled
,
to
military
life
than
the
Friend
of
the
Flag
's
.
She
signed
back
the
shouting
disorderly
crowd
with
her
mule-whip
as
superbly
as
though
she
were
a
Marshal
of
France
signing
back
a
whole
army
's
mutiny
.
"
What
children
you
are
!
You
push
,
and
scramble
,
and
tear
,
like
a
set
of
monkeys
over
a
nut
.
Get
out
of
my
way
,
or
I
swear
you
shall
none
of
you
have
so
much
as
a
morsel
of
black
bread
—
do
you
hear
?
"
It
was
amusing
to
see
how
they
minded
her
contemptuous
orders
;
how
these
black-bearded
fire-eaters
,
the
terror
of
the
country
,
each
one
of
whom
could
have
crushed
her
in
his
grasp
as
a
wolf
crushes
a
lamb
,
slunk
back
,
silenced
and
obedient
,
before
the
imperious
bidding
of
the
little
vivandière
.
They
had
heeded
her
and
let
her
rule
over
them
almost
as
much
when
she
had
been
seven
years
old
,
and
her
curls
,
now
so
dark
,
had
been
yellow
as
corn
in
the
sun
.
"
Ouf
!
"
growled
only
one
insubordinate
,
"
if
you
had
been
a
day
and
night
eating
nothing
but
a
bit
of
moist
clay
,
you
might
be
hungry
too
,
fanfan
?
"
The
humiliated
supplication
of
the
reply
appeased
their
autocratic
sovereign
.
She
nodded
her
head
in
ássent
.
"
I
know
;
I
know
.
I
have
gone
days
on
a
handful
of
barley-ears
.
M
.
le
Colonel
has
his
marmitons
,
and
his
fricassées
,
and
his
batterie
de
cuisine
where
he
camps
—
oh-hé
!
—
but
we
soldiers
have
nothing
but
a
hunch
of
baked
chaff
.
Well
,
we
win
battles
on
it
—
eh
?
'
Quand
la
panse
est
vide
,
l
'
'
épée
mange
vîte
!
"
Which
was
one
of
the
impromptu
proverbs
that
Cigarette
was
wont
to
manufacture
and
bring
into
her
discourse
with
an
air
of
authority
as
of
one
who
quotes
from
profound
scholastic
lore
.
It
was
received
with
a
howl
of
applause
and
of
ratification
.
The
entrails
often
gnaw
with
bitter
pangs
of
famine
in
the
Army
of
Algiers
,
and
they
knew
well
how
sharp
an
edge
hunger
gives
to
the
steel
.
Nevertheless
,
the
sullen
angry
roar
of
famished
men
,
that
is
so
closely
,
so
terribly
,
like
the
roar
of
wild
beasts
,
did
not
cease
.
"
Where
is
Biribi
?
"
they
growled
.
"
Biribi
never
keeps
us
waiting
.
Those
are
Biribi
's
beasts
.
"
"
Right
,
"
said
Cigarette
,
laconically
,
with
a
crack
of
her
mule-whip
on
to
the
arm
of
a
Zouave
who
was
attempting
to
make
free
with
her
convoy
and
purloin
a
loaf
off
the
load
.
"
Where
is
Biribi
,
then
?
"
they
roared
in
concert
,
a
crowd
of
eager
,
wolfish
,
ravenous
,
impatient
men
,
hungry
as
camp-fasting
could
make
them
,
and
half
inclined
even
to
tear
their
darling
in
pieces
,
since
she
kept
them
thus
from
the
stores
.
Cigarette
uncovered
her
head
with
a
certain
serious
grace
very
rare
in
her
.
"
Biribi
has
made
a
good
end
.
"
Her
assailants
grew
very
quiet
.
"
Shot
?
"
they
asked
,
briefly
.
Biribi
was
a
Tringlo
well
beloved
in
all
the
battalions
.
Cigarette
nodded
,
with
a
gesture
outward
to
the
solitary
country
.
She
was
accustomed
to
these
incidents
of
war
;
she
thought
of
them
no
more
than
a
girl
of
civilised
life
thinks
of
the
grouse
or
the
partridges
that
are
killed
by
her
lovers
and
brothers
.
"
I
was
out
yonder
,
two
leagues
or
more
away
.
I
was
riding
;
I
was
on
my
own
horse
;
Etoile-Filante
.
Well
,
I
heard
shots
;
of
course
I
made
for
the
place
by
my
ear
.
Before
I
got
up
I
saw
what
was
the
mischief
.
There
were
the
mules
in
a
gorge
,
and
Biribi
in
front
of
them
,
fighting
,
mon
Dieu
!
—
fighting
like
the
devil
—
with
three
Arbis
upon
him
.
They
were
trying
to
stop
the
convoys
,
and
Biribi
was
beating
them
back
with
all
his
might
.
I
was
too
far
off
to
do
much
good
;
but
I
shouted
and
dashed
down
to
them
.
The
Arbis
heard
,
Biribi
heard
;
he
flew
on
to
them
like
a
tiger
,
that
little
Tringlo
.
It
was
wonderful
!
Two
fell
dead
under
him
;
the
third
took
fright
and
fled
.
When
I
got
up
,
Biribi
lay
above
the
dead
brutes
with
a
dozen
wounds
in
him
,
if
there
were
one
.
He
looked
up
,
and
knew
me
.
'
Is
it
thee
,
Cigarette
?
'
he
asked
;
and
he
could
hardly
speak
for
the
blood
in
his
throat
.
'
Do
not
wait
with
me
;
I
am
dead
already
.
Drive
the
mules
into
camp
as
quick
as
thou
canst
;
the
men
will
be
thinking
me
late
.
'
"
"
Biribi
was
always
bon
enfant
,
"
muttered
the
listening
throng
;
they
forgot
their
hunger
as
they
heard
.
"
Ah
,
chenapans
!
he
thought
more
of
you
than
you
deserve
,
you
jackals
!
I
drew
him
aside
into
a
hole
in
the
rocks
out
of
the
heat
.
He
was
dead
;
he
was
right
.
No
man
could
live
slashed
about
like
that
.
The
Arbicos
had
set
on
him
as
he
went
singing
along
;
if
he
would
have
given
up
the
brutes
and
the
stores
,
they
would
not
have
harmed
him
;
but
that
was
not
Biribi
.
I
did
all
I
could
for
him
.
Dam
!
it
was
no
good
.
He
lay
very
still
for
some
minutes
with
his
head
on
my
lap
;
then
he
moved
restlessly
and
tossed
about
.
'
They
will
think
me
so
late
—
so
late
,
'
he
muttered
;
'
and
they
are
famished
by
this
.
There
is
that
letter
,
too
,
from
his
mother
for
Petit-Pot-de-Terre
;
there
is
all
that
news
from
France
;
I
have
so
much
for
them
,
and
I
shall
be
so
late
—
so
late
!
'
All
he
thought
was
that
he
should
be
so
late
into
camp
.
Well
,
it
was
all
over
very
soon
.
I
do
not
think
he
suffered
;
but
he
was
so
afraid
you
should
not
have
the
food
.
I
left
him
in
the
cave
,
and
drove
the
mules
on
as
he
asked
.
Etoile-Filante
had
galloped
away
;
have
you
seen
him
home
?
"
There
broke
once
more
from
the
hearkening
throng
a
roar
that
shook
the
echoes
from
the
rocks
;
but
it
was
not
now
the
rage
of
famished
longing
,
but
the
rage
of
the
lust
for
vengeance
,
and
the
grief
of
passionate
hearts
blent
together
.
Quick
as
the
lightning
flashes
,
their
swords
leaped
from
their
scabbards
and
shook
in
the
sun-lightened
air
.
"
We
will
avenge
him
!
"
they
shouted
as
with
one
throat
,
the
hoarse
cry
rolling
down
the
valley
like
a
swell
