"It is very plain it seems to me, but soldiers are so unfeeling."
"But think a moment, Mother Barbançon; here is a girl who, in her despair at poor Jacques's absence, sets about eating everything on the face of the earth."
"Of course, monsieur, any child could understand that."
"But I do not, I must confess."
"What! you can't understand that this unfortunate young girl is so heart-broken, after her lover's departure, that she is ready to eat anything and everything—even poison, poor thing! Her life is of so little value to her,—she is so wretched that she doesn't even know what she is doing, and so eats everything that happens to be within reach—and yet, her misery doesn't move you in the least."
The veteran listened attentively to this explanation, which did not seem to him so entirely devoid of reason, now, after all.
"Yes, yes, I understand," he responded, nodding his head; "but it is like all love songs—extremely far-fetched."
"'Poor Jacques' far-fetched? The idea!" cried Madame Barbançon, indignantly.
"'Every one to his taste,' as you remarked a moment ago," answered the veteran. "I like our old sea songs very much better. A man knows what he is singing about when he sings them."
And in a voice as powerful as it was discordant, the old captain began to sing: