her old man that's been dead fifty years and was a rifleman once on
a time. Seems she's even given them a rabbit for nix, and they're
just worrying it jugged."

"There's good sorts everywhere. But the boys of the 9th had famous
luck to fall into the only shop of good sorts in the whole village."

Palmyra comes with the coffee, which she supplies. She thaws a
little, listens to us, and even asks questions in a supercilious
way: "Why do you call the adjutant 'le juteux'?"

Barque replies sententiously, "'Twas ever thus."

When she has disappeared, we criticize our coffee. "Talk about
clear! You can see the sugar ambling round the bottom of the
glass."--"She charges six sous for it."--"It's filtered water."

The door half opens, and admits a streak of light. The face of a
little boy is defined in it. We entice him in like a kitten and give
him a bit of chocolate.

Then, "My name's Charlie," chirps the child. "Our house, that's
close by. We've got soldiers, too. We always had them, we had. We
sell them everything they want. Only, voila, sometimes they
get drunk."

"Tell me, little one, come here a bit," says Cocon, taking the boy
between his knees. "Listen now. Your papa, he says, doesn't he,
'Let's hope the war goes on,' eh?" [note 2]