We found Pistre making a careful toilet with the aid of a tin pail full of water.
"This is a surprise, on my soul!"
We hastened to give him news of his family and friends.
Presently he turned towards Nourrigat.
"How about your regiment? Stationary?"
"I fancy so. We were pretty well thinned out. We're waiting for reinforcements."
"What's become of Chenu, and Morlet and Panard?"
"Gone! all of them."
"Too bad! They were such good fellows!"
And our friends smiled, occupied but with the thought of the living present. Paris, their friends, their families, their professions, all seemed to be forgotten, or completely over-shadowed by the habitual daily routine of marches and halts, duties and drudgery. They were no longer a great painter and a brilliant barrister. They were two soldiers; two atoms of that formidable machine which shall conquer the German; they were as two monks in a monastery—absolutely oblivious to every worldly occupation.