across the Mississippi. He joins the Confederates under Van Dorn.
He is a soldier at last.

Here in the circling camps of the great Army of the West, Maxime
Valois joins the first Louisiana regiment he meets. He realizes
that the beloved Southern Confederacy has yet an unbeaten army. A
grand array. The tramp of solid legions makes him feel a soldier,
not a sneaking conspirator. He is no more a guerilla of the plains,
or a fugitive deserter of his adopted State.

The capture of New Orleans seals the Mississippi. The Confederacy
is cut in twain. It is positive now, the only help from the golden
West will be the arrival of parties of self-devoted men like
himself. They come in squads, bolting through Mexico or slipping
through Arizona. Some reach Panama and Havana, gaining the South by
blockade runners. He opens mail communication with Judge Hardin,
via Havana. He succeeds in exchanging views with the venerable
head of his house at New Orleans. It is all gloomy now. Old and
despondent, the New Orleans patriarch has sent his youthful son
away to Paris. Armand is too young to bear arms. He can only come
home and do a soldier's duty later. By family influence, Maxime
Valois finds himself soon a major in a Louisiana regiment. He wears
his gray uniform at the head of men already veterans. Shiloh's
disputed laurels are theirs. They are tigers who have tasted blood.
In the rapidly changing scenes of service, trusting to chance for
news of his family, Maxime Valois' whole nature is centred upon
the grave duties of his station. Southern victories are hailed
from the East. The victorious arms of the Confederacy roll back
McClellan's great force. Bruised, bleeding, and shattered from the
hard-fought fields of the Peninsula, the Unionists recoil. The