“I think I can give you news of one of your friends.”
“What is his name?” I asked.
“Emmanuel Bocher.”
“Oh, yes, he is certainly a great friend of mine. How is he?”
“He is still a prisoner, but he is very well.”
“But I thought he had been released,” I said.
“Some of those who were taken with him were released, on giving their word never to take up arms against us again, but he refused to give his word.”
“Oh, the brave soldier!” I exclaimed, in spite of myself.
The young German looked at me with his clear, sad eyes.
“Yes,” he said simply, “the brave soldier!”