"To be sure, but if you had heard the cries of these poor people, if you had seen them!"
"Bah! bah!" said he. "Primo, Father Moses, soldiers must live; men must have their rations if they are going to fight. I have often seen these things done in Germany and Spain and Italy! Peasants are selfish; they want to keep their own; they do not regard the honor of the flag; that is trash! In some respects they would be worse than townspeople, if we were foolish enough to listen to them; we must be strict."
"We have been, sergeant," I replied; "but if I had been master, we should not have robbed these poor wretches; they are in a pitiable condition enough already."
"You are too compassionate, Father Moses, and you think that others are like yourself. But we must remember that peasants, citizens, civilians, live only by the soldiers, and have all the profit without wanting to pay any of the cost. If we followed your advice we should die of hunger in this little town; our peasants would support the Russians, the Austrians, and Bavarians at our expense. This pack of scoundrels would be having a good time from morning to night, and the rest of us would be as poor as church-mice. That would not do—there is no sense in it!"
He laughed aloud. We had now come into our passage, and I went upstairs.
"Is it thou, Moses?" asked Sorlé in the darkness, for it was nightfall.
"Yes, the sergeant and I."
"Ah, good!" said she; "I was expecting you."
"Madame Moses," exclaimed the sergeant, "your husband can boast now of being a real soldier; he has not yet seen fire, but he has charged with his bayonet."
"Ah!" said Sorlé, "I am very glad to see him back."