drifted in the gentle breeze over the unsleeping farmhouse, obscuring
the early stars in the heavens above.

"A drubbing!" Weiss at last replied, "God grant it may be so!"

Jean, still seated a few steps away, pricked up his ears, while
Lieutenant Rochas, noticing that the wish was attended by a doubt,
stopped to listen.

"What!" Maurice rejoined, "have you not confidence? can you believe
that defeat is possible?"

His brother-in-law silenced him with a gesture; his hands were
trembling with agitation, his kindly pleasant face was pale and bore
an expression of deep distress.

"Defeat, ah! Heaven preserve us from that! You know that I was born in
this country; my grandfather and grandmother were murdered by the
Cossacks in 1814, and whenever I think of invasion it makes me clench
my fist and grit my teeth; I could go through fire and flood, like a
trooper, in my shirt sleeves! Defeat--no, no! I cannot, I will not
believe it possible."

He became calmer, allowing his arms to fall by his side in
discouragement.

"But my mind is not easy, do you see. I know Alsace; I was born there;
I am just off a business trip through the country, and we civilians
have opportunities of seeing many things that the generals persist in
ignoring, although they have them thrust beneath their very eyes. Ah,