"I have thought that I have somewhere seen a face like that," replied Joseph, slowly. "Something made me feel—his playing with the soldiers, which yet seemed more than play—he might be in the army—he might even be an officer—and yet he had not the air. Still, they are not all drilled in schools, these officers in this war."
"But listen," said his wife, as she seated herself by him, with joy that there was something to tell that he would be glad to hear. "I have something to tell you. This morning, on my way to market, everywhere there were soldiers—dirty, lean as from hunger, faces black with powder stains. At first I was afraid—"
"But, my wife," said Joseph, indulgently, "what was there to be feared?"
"I will tell you. A crowd of soldiers came swaggering into Schmidt's. They ordered him to wait on them, and when he asked for money for the food, they shook their fists at him with ugly words, and called for all to come and take what they would. Two officers hurried up and ordered them to return to their ranks, but they laughed at the officers."
"Mutiny!" whispered Napoleon's soldier, his face pale with excitement.
"They swore oaths and said that they would fight no more battles for men who were old women and stayed at home while they sweated and bled and were starving."
"Without doubt their officers ordered them into arrest?" demanded Joseph, fiercely.
"Who was there to arrest them? The officers looked white, and I was trembling. More soldiers came into the square, until everywhere there were angry faces and bodies swaying this way and that, while the men were thinking what evil they should do. At that moment a carriage drove up at full speed. There was one man in it. He stood up; he was a tall man. A hesitating sort of shout went up from the soldiers. Then there was a great muttering, and every one rushed toward him, and some were shaking their fists.
"The man stood still. He said no word. But little by little the muttering stopped and there was silence. Then the crowd began backing away from him. There was a break in the mass, and through it I saw his face. He was smiling with—well, the way fathers look at their children that have hurt themselves because they were naughty and are yet not very bad. Still there was silence."
"He held them so?" broke in Joseph. "But then he was a great man. But who?"