"Have I ever refused you clothes, or even money for your tobacco?"
"No."
"François, it must be that military service has changed your heart towards us."
"That may be."
"But say that you will not leave us?"
The young man put his hand into his coat pocket, and held out the letter.
"I have to be there at noon to-morrow," he said. "If you don't believe me, read for yourself."
The father stretched out his hand across the team for the letter, trembling so much that he could scarcely take it. Once in his hands, without opening it, in a sudden access of indignation he crumpled and tore it into atoms, then crushed the pieces under his sabots into the soft earth.
"There," he cried, "is an end to the letter. Now are you going?"
"That alters nothing," returned François.