“'Thou wert ever fortunate, François,' he replied, wiping his eyes with emotion; 'I have never pinked any but Christians.'
“'Come, come,' said I, 'don't be down-hearted; good times are coming. They say Le Petit Caporal will have us in England soon.'
“'Mayhap,' said he, sorrowfully, for he could not get over my Turks. Well, in order to cheer him up a little, I proposed that we should go and sup together at the 'Grenadier Rouge;' and away we went accordingly.
“It would amuse you, perhaps,” said Maître François, “were I to tell some of the stories we related to each other at night. We both had had our share of adventure since we met, and some droll ones among the number. However, that is not the question at present. We sat late; so late that they came to close the café at last, and we were obliged to depart. You know the 'Grenadier Rouge,' don't you?”
“Yes, I know it well,” replied the major; “it's over the glacis, about a mile outside the barrier.”
“Just so; and there's a pleasant walk across the glacis to the gate. As Piccotin and I set out together on our way to the town, the night was calm and mild; a soft moonlight shed a silvery tint over every object, and left the stately poplars to throw a still longer shadow on the smooth grass. For some time we walked along without speaking; the silence of the night, the fragrant air, the mellow light, were all soft and tranquillizing influences, and we sank each into his own reflections.
“When we reached the middle of the plain,—you know the spot, I'm sure; there's a little bronze fountain, with four cedars round it,” (the major nodded, and he resumed),—“Piccotin came to a sudden halt, and seizing my hand in both of his, said, 'François, canst thou guess what I 'm thinking of?'
“I looked at him, and I looked around me, and after a few seconds' pause I answered, 'Yes, Piccotin, I know it; it is a lovely spot.'
“'Never was anything like it!' cried he, in a rapture; 'look at the turf, smooth as velvet, and yet soft to the foot; see the trees, how they fall back to give the light admittance; and there, that little fountain, if one felt thirsty, eh! What say you?'
“'Agreed,' said I, grasping him by both hands; 'for this once; once only, Piccotin.'