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
