“Not of veterans,” was the evasive rejoinder.
“Oh! the young ones will rise up as soon as they are wanted. We shall have a new generation of heroes that will eclipse in glory the vieux de la Vieille themselves. As for you, you will come back to us a marshal of France,” declared Berthe merrily.
The prophecy elicited gentle cheering and congratulations from the ladies, while the men approved in their own way, joking the commandant, and dubbing him Monsieur le Maréchal on the spot.
“If it be not a futile or indiscreet question to put, may I ask what you are going to war for?” demanded Mr. Clifford, addressing himself to the company in general.
“For security of the dynasty,” replied a Legitimist.
“For the honor and security of France,” said the commandant.
“Do you separate them, M. le Commandant!” exclaimed the Legitimist with mock horror. “I arraign you, de par l’Empereur, for high treason against France!”
The circle laughed, and the Commandant, not caring to challenge the persifleur, laughed good-humoredly, too.
“Shall I tell you, monsieur, why we are going to war?” said the Deputy de la Gauche to Mr. Clifford. “We are going to war to désennuyer Paris. If Paris goes on much longer ennuying herself as she has done for the last six months, she will make a revolution!”
“That may be quite true,” returned his colleague of the Droite; “but the preventive is rather violent; some milder form of excitement might be invented for the ennui of Paris than that of taking her to Berlin for a distraction. It is hardly a sufficient reason for plunging the whole nation into war. No, I prefer to think we are going to fight for the honor of France, and it may be for her aggrandizement.”