"When they come back," said Simon to his wife, "you must have a good meal ready. Carry straw into the school-room, tear up your old sheets into bandages, and send to Wisembach for the doctor."
"But the child—what am I to do with her?" asked Françoise, timidly.
"Oh! I will look out for her," cried the soldier. "I had a little girl of my own, but since I have been away, both mother and child have died!"
Simon and Michel were alone for a few moments. The little girl still sat on the soldier's knee, gravely enlarging one of the holes in his uniform with her busy little fingers.
"Then the invaders are in France?" said Simon.
"They are, indeed, but they won't stay long—be sure of that!"
"What army is it that is advancing in this direction?" asked Simon.
"Schwartzemberg's, with Russians, Prussians and Austrians."
"How far off are they?"
"Not more than ten leagues. We were nearly overtaken by them. They would not have got thus far had we not been betrayed by everybody. Those dogs of Royalists have felt no shame to be seen with these enemies of France!"