"To-morrow will do, then; there is no hurry."
We thought no more of the journey, for the majors' dinner took place that very evening. All that wore a uniform were sure to arouse an admiring interest. The soldiers were overwhelmed with love and adulation. A little more, and we would have prostrated ourselves at their feet. It was but right. What sacrifices could we make to match what they gave us: their strength, their life, their youth? And they were France herself; they were ourselves. Every woman who spoiled a trooper said to herself: "My son too is a soldier."
On this Sunday, then, the village was overjoyed to hear that soldiers would be billeted on it.
"A good thing. We shall see some officers, and perhaps hear some news." And we kept our eyes open, ready to snap up the first piece of gold lace that would come on. The said lace happened to be on the sleeve of a surgeon-major, who to our anxious questions gave us an evasive answer, and seized time by the forelock.
"Oh, madam," he said to my mother-in-law, "shall I dare ask you...."
"Dare ask it, sir."
"To lend us your kitchen and your dining-room? We are ten surgeon-majors, and we have nowhere to dine."
"Certainly, my house is at your disposal."
"But say nothing about it! It is not here that our quarters are."
His companion, a giddy-brained youth fresh from the schools, who hitherto had not opened his mouth, cried out: