“Are you beginning to feel better, hein?”

The corporal raised his head and replied with the same peasant-like directness: 

“Just beginning, thank you!”

Honore, notwithstanding his hunger, had ceased from eating whenever it seemed to him that he heard a noise about the house.  If he had struggled long, and finally been false to his oath never to set foot in that house again, the reason was that he could no longer withstand his craving desire to see Silvine.  The letter that he had received from her at Rheims lay on his bosom, next his skin, that letter, so tenderly passionate, in which she told him that she loved him still, that she should never love anyone save him, despite the cruel past, despite Goliah and little Charlot, that man’s child.  He was thinking of naught save her, was wondering why he had not seen her yet, all the time watching himself that he might not let his father see his anxiety.  At last his passion became too strong for him, however, and he asked in a tone as natural as he could command: 

“Is not Silvine with you any longer?”

Fouchard gave his son a glance out of the corner of his eye, chuckling internally.

“Yes, yes.”

Then he expectorated and was silent, so that the artillery man had presently to broach the subject again.

“She has gone to bed, then?”

“No, no.”

Finally the old fellow condescended to explain that he, too, had been taking an outing that morning, had driven over to Raucourt market in his wagon and taken his little servant with him.  He saw no reason, because a lot of soldiers happened to pass that way, why folks should cease to eat meat or why a man should not attend to his business, so he had taken a sheep and a quarter of beef over there, as it was his custom to do every Tuesday, and had just disposed of the last of his stock-in-trade when up came the 7th corps and he found himself in the middle of a terrible hubbub.  Everyone was running, pushing, and crowding.  Then he became alarmed lest they should take his horse and wagon from him, and drove off, leaving his servant, who was just then making some purchases in the town.

“Oh, Silvine will come back all right,” he concluded in his tranquil voice.  “She must have taken shelter with Doctor Dalichamp, her godfather.  You would think to look at her that she wouldn’t dare to say boo to a goose, but she is a girl of courage, all the same.  Yes, yes; she has lots of good qualities, Silvine has.”

Was it an attempt on his part to be jocose? or did he wish to explain why it was he kept her in his service, that girl who had caused dissension between father and son, whose child by the Prussian was in the house?  He again gave his boy that sidelong look and laughed his voiceless laugh.

“Little Charlot is asleep there in his room; she surely won’t be long away, now.”