vain my father reminds him of Voltaire's story, in which the ship goes
down with a _fripon_ on board. In order to punish the _fripon_, the
honest folks are drowned."

"Is your father going to remain on board the ship, and share the fate of
the other honest folks?"

"_Pas si bete_. He is off to Dieppe for sea-bathing. He says that Paris
has grown so dirty since the 4th September, that it is only fit for the
feet of the Unwashed. He wished my mother to accompany him; but she
replies, 'No; there are already too many wounded not to need plenty of
nurses.' She is assisting to inaugurate a society of ladies in aid of
the _Soeurs de Charite_. Like Raoul, she is devout, but she has not his
superstitions. Still his superstitions are the natural reaction of a
singularly earnest and pure nature from the frivolity and corruption
which, when kneaded well up together with a slice of sarcasm, Paris calls
philosophy."

"And what, my dear Enguerrand, do you propose to do?"

"That depends on whether we are really besieged. If so, of course I
become a soldier."

"I hope not a National Guard?"

"I care not in what name I fight, so that I fight for France."


As Enguerrand said these simple words, his whole countenance, seemed
changed. The crest rose; his eyes sparkled; the fair and delicate beauty