〃At　this；　the　men　raised　a　hearty　laugh；　and　we　felt　quite
  light…hearted；　while　Pratique；　who　was　walking　by　the　side　of　the
  litter；　waved　his　kepi；　and　shouted：
  〃Vive　la　France！'　And　I　felt　really　moved。　I　do　not　know　why；
  except　that　I　thought　it　a　pretty　and　gallant　thing　to　say。
  〃It　seemed　to　me　as　if　we　had　just　saved　the　whole　of　France；　and
  had　done　something　that　other　men　could　not　have　done；　something
  simple；　and　really　patriotic。　I　shall　never　forget　that　little
  face；　you　may　be　sure；　and　if　I　had　to　give　my　opinion　about
  abolishing　drums；　trumpets；　and　bugles；　I　should　propose　to
  replace　them　in　every　regiment　by　a　pretty　girl；　and　that　would
  be　even　better　than　playing　the　'Marseillaise。'　By　Jove！　it　would
  put　some　spirit　into　a　trooper　to　have　a　Madonna　like　that；　a
  living　Madonna；　by　the　colonel's　side。〃
  He　was　silent　for　a　few　moments；　and　then　with　an　air　of
  conviction；　and　jerking　his　head；　continued：
  〃You　see；　we　are　very　fond　of　women；　we　Frenchmen！〃
  TWO　LITTLE　SOLDIERS
  Every　Sunday；　the　moment　they　were　dismissed；　the　two　little
  soldiers　made　off。　Once　outside　the　barracks；　they　struck　out　to
  the　right　through　Courbevoie；　walking　with　long　rapid　strides；　as
  though　they　were　on　a　march。
  When　they　were　beyond　the　last　of　the　houses；　they　slackened　pace
  along　the　bare；　dusty　roadway　which　goes　toward　Bezons。
  They　were　both　small　and　thin；　and　looked　quite　lost　in　their
  coats；　which　were　too　big　and　too　long。　Their　sleeves　hung　down
  over　their　hands；　and　they　found　their　enormous　red　breeches；
  which　compelled　them　to　waddle；　very　much　in　the　way。　Under　their
  stiff；　high　helmets　their　faces　had　little　charactertwo　poor；
  sallow　Breton　faces；　simple　with　an　almost　animal　simplicity；　and
  with　gentle　and　quiet　blue　eyes。
  They　never　conversed　during　these　walks；　but　went　straight　on；
  each　with　the　same　thought　in　his　head。　This　thought　atoned　for
  the　lack　of　conversation；　it　was　this；　that　just　inside　the
  little　wood　near　Les　Champioux　they　had　found　a　place　which
  reminded　them　of　their　own　country；　where　they　could　feel　happy
  again。
  When　they　arrived　under　the　trees　where　the　roads　from　Colombes
  and　from　Chatou　cross；　they　would　take　off　their　heavy　helmets
  and　wipe　their　foreheads。　They　always　halted　on　the　Bezons　bridge
  to　look　at　the　Seine；　and　would　remain　there　two　or　three
  minutes；　bent　double；　leaning　on　the　parapet。
  Sometimes　they　would　gaze　out　over　the　great　basin　of　Argenteuil；
  where　the　skiffs　might　be　seen　scudding；　with　their　white；
  careening　sails；　recalling　perhaps　the　look　of　the　Breton　waters；
  the　harbor　of　Vanne；　near　which　they　lived；　and　the　fishing…boats
  standing　out　across　the　Morbihan　to　the　open　sea。
  Just　beyond　the　Seine　they　bought　their　provisions　from　a　sausage
  merchant；　a　baker；　and　a　wine…seller。　A　piece　of　blood…pudding；
  four　sous'　worth　of　bread；　and　a　liter　of　〃petit　bleu〃
  constituted　the　provisions；　which　they　carried　off　in　their
  handkerchiefs。　After　they　had　left　Bezons　they　traveled　slowly
  and　began　to　talk。
  In　front　of　them　a　barren　plain　studded　with　clumps　of　trees　led
  to　the　wood；　to　the　little　wood　which　had　seemed　to　them　to
  resemble　the　one　at　Kermarivan。　Grainfields　and　hayfields
  bordered　the　narrow　path；　which　lost　itself　in　the　young
  greenness　of　the　crops；　and　Jean　Kerderen　would　always　say　to　Luc
  le　Ganidec：
  〃It　looks　like　it　does　near　Plounivon。〃
  〃Yes；　exactly。〃
  Side　by　side　they　strolled；　their　souls　filled　with　vague
  memories　of　their　own　country；　with　awakened　images　as　naive　as
  the　pictures　on　the　colored　broadsheets　which　you　buy　for　a
  penny。　They　kept　on　recognizing；　as　it　were；　now　a　corner　of　a
  field；　a　hedge；　a　bit　of　moorland；　now　a　crossroad；　now　a　granite
  cross。　Then；　too；　they　would　always　stop　beside　a　certain
  landmark；　a　great　stone；　because　it　looked　something　like　the
  cromlech　at　Locneuven。
  Every　Sunday　on　arriving　at　the　first　clump　of　trees　Luc　le
  Ganidec　would　cut　a　switch；　a　hazel　switch；　and　begin　gently　to
  peel　off　the　bark；　thinking　meanwhile　of　the　folk　at　home。　Jean
  Kerderen　carried　the　provisions。
  From　time　to　time　Luc　would　mention　a　name；　or　recall　some　deed
  of　their　childhood　in　a　few　brief　words；　which　caused　long
  thoughts。　And　their　own　country；　their　dear；　distant　country；
  recaptured　them　little　by　little；　seizing　on　their　imaginations；
  and　sending　to　them　from　afar　her　shapes；　her　sounds；　her
  well…known　prospects；　her　odorsodors　of　the　green　lands　where
  the　salt　sea…air　was　blowing。
  No　longer　conscious　of　the　exhalations　of　the　Parisian　stables；
  on　which　the　earth　of　the　banlieue　fattens；　they　scented　the
  perfume　of　the　flowering　broom；　which　the　salt　breeze　of　the　open
  sea　plucks　and　bears　away。　And　the　sails　of　the　boats　from　the
  river　banks　seemed　like　the　white　wings　of　the　coasting　vessels
  seen　beyond　the　great　plain　which　extended　from　their　homes　to
  the　very　margin　of　the　sea。
  They　walked　with　short　steps；　Luc　le　Ganidec　and　Jean　Kerderen；
  content　and　sad；　haunted　by　a　sweet　melancholy；　by　the　lingering；
  ever…present　sorrow　of　a　caged　animal　who　remembers　his　liberty。
  By　the　time　that　Luc　had　stripped　the　slender　wand　of　its　bark
  they　reached　the　corner　of　the　wood　where　every　Sunday　they　took
  breakfast。　They　found　the　two　bricks　which　they　kept　hidden　in
  the　thicket；　and　kindled　a　little　fire　of　twigs；　over　which　to
  roast　the　blood…pudding　at　the　end　of　a　bayonet。
  When　they　had　breakfasted；　eaten　their　bread　to　the　last　crumb；
  and　drunk　their　wine　to　the　last　drop；　they　remained　seated　side
  by　side　upon　the　grass；　saying　nothing；　their　eyes　on　the
  distance；　their　eyelids　drooping；　their　fingers　crossed　as　at
  mass；　their　red　legs　stretched　out　beside　the　poppies　of　the
  field。　And　the　leather　of　their　helmets　and　the　brass　of　their
  buttons　glittered　in　the　ardent　sun；　making　the　larks；　which　sang
  and　hovered　above　their　heads；　cease　in　mid…song。
  Toward　noon　they　began　to　turn　their　eyes　from　time　to　time　in
  the　direction　of　the　village　of　Bezons；　because　the　girl　with　the
  cow　was　coming。　She　passed　by　them　every　Sunday　on　her　way　to
  milk　and　change　the　pasture　of　her　cowthe　only　cow　in　this
  district　which　ever　went　out　of　the　stable　to　grass。　It　was
  pastured　in　a　narrow　field　along　the　edge　of　the　wood　a　little
  farther　on。
  They　soon　perceived　the　girl；　the　only　human　being　within　vision；
  and　were　gladdened　by　the　brilliant　reflections　thrown　off　by　the
  tin　milk…pail　under　the　rays　of　the　sun。　They　never　talked　about
  her。　They　were　simply　glad　to　see　her；　without　understanding　why。
  She　was　a　big　strong　wench　with　red　hair；　burned　by　the　heat　of
  sunny　days；　a　sturdy　product　of　the　environs　of　Paris。
  Once；　finding　them　seated　in　the　same　place；　she　said：
  〃Good　morning。　You　two　are　always　here；　aren't　you？〃
  Luc　le　Ganidec；　the　bolder；　stammered：
  〃Yes；　we　come　to　rest。〃
  That　was　all。　But　the　next　Sunday　she　laughed　on　seeing　them；
  laughed　with　a　protecting　benevolence　and　a　feminine　keenness
  which　knew　well　enough　that　they　were　bashful。　And　she　asked：
  〃What　are　you　doing　there？　Are　you　trying　to　see　the　grass　grow？〃
  Luc　was　cheered　up　by　this；　and　smiled　likewise：　〃Maybe　we　are。〃
  〃That's　pretty　slow　work；〃　said　she。
  He　answered；　still　laughing：　〃Well；　yes；　it　is。〃
  She　went　on。　But　coming　back　with　a　milk…pail　full　of　milk；　she
  stopped　again　before　them；　and　said：
  〃Would　you　like　a　little？　It　will　taste　like　home。〃
  With　the　instinctive　feeling　that　they　were　of　the　same　peasant
  race　as　she；　being　herself　perhaps　also　far　away　from　home；　she
  had　divined　and　touched　the　spot。
  They　were　both　touched。　Then　with　some　difficulty；　she　managed　to
  make　a　little　milk　run　into　the　neck　of　the　glass　bottle　in　which
  they　carried　their　wine。　And　Luc　drank　first；　with　little
  swallows；　stopping　every　minute　to　see　whether　he　had　drunk　more
  than　his　half。　Then　he　handed　the　bottle　to　Jean。
  She　stood　upright　before　them；　her　hands　on　her　hips；　her　pail　on
  the　ground　at　her　feet；　glad　at　the　pleasure　which　she　had　given。
  Then　she　departed；　shouting：　〃Allons；　adieu！　Till　next　Sunday！〃
  And　as　long　as　they　could　see　her　at　all；　they　followed　with
  their　eyes　her　tall　silhouette；　which　faded；　growing　smaller　and
  smaller；　seeming　to　sink　into　the　verdure　of　the　fields。
  When　they　were　leaving　the　barracks　the　week　after；　Jean　said　to
  Luc：
  〃Oughtn't　we　to　buy　her　something　good？〃
  They　were　in　great　embarrassment　before　the　problem　of　the　choice
  of　a　delicacy　for　the　girl　with　the　cow。　Luc　was　of　the　opinion
  that　a　little　tripe　would　be　the　best；　but　Jean　preferred　some
  berlingots　because　he　was　fond　of　sweets。　His　choice　fairly　made
  him　enthusiastic；　and　they　bought　at　a　grocer's　two　sous'　worth
  of　white　and　red　candies。
  They　at