In the midst of the appropriate merriment, in which real happiness rather than boisterous mirth seemed to predominate, a knocking at the door announced the approach of a stranger. He was ushered into the humble apartment, and presented the appearance of a veteran soldier of some consideration in the service.
“I have been directed,” said the military visiter, “by persons in the village, to call at this house for citizen Adolph Lefevre. As my business is of an important kind, madam will, I hope, excuse my intrusion upon her domestic privacy.”
Adolph rose, and announced himself as the person inquired for.
“In that case,” said the visiter, “I have reason to be gratified with my call; the nation cannot fail to derive service from so finely proportioned a soldier. I bear, sir, to you a notice that you have been honored with a call to be mustered immediately into the service—as a conscript.”
“A conscript! I am, sir, a conscript for 18—, but not of the present, nor even of the next year.”
“I am aware, citizen conscript,” said the military gentleman, growing more and more civil as he meant to be more and more imperative, “I am aware of the year of your conscription, but the necessities of the grand army have compelled the emperor to anticipate a year or two; and you, who would otherwise have been no candidate for the cross of the legion of honor for two years at least, are now presented with the opportunity, which, of course, every Frenchman desires, of serving your country, without any such delay.”
The officer presented Adolph with a paper which contained the order for his departure, fixed the day, and named the place of rendezvous; and then, with military grace, took leave of the family.
It is not possible to describe the misery which this order had brought into the family. Six months before, Adolph would have thought less of the dangers of the camp, and Madam Berien would have felt relieved by his departure; now, the thought of separation was terrible. The certainty seemed for a time to have paralyzed the family. The marriage was, of course, to be postponed.
“I could,” said Louise, to the curé, “I could have sustained the blow better, had I perfect confidence in the strength of Adolph’s power of resistance. It is not my disappointment that makes me weep; if I know my heart, dear father, it is the apprehension for Adolph’s moral safety. He must be exposed to all the debasing influences of a great army, and to all the dangers of association with men who make a mockery of all that is holy in religion, and all that is decent in morals; and he must stand the taunts and jibes of some of those from whom he has recently been attracted. He will fall, assuredly.”
“Let us pray for his endurance of the trial,” said the curé.