M. Goudé grumbled much when he heard that his whole class were going to be absent for three days.  
"A nice interruption to study," he said, "however, you were none of you doing yourselves any good, and you may as well be out in the fields as hanging about the streets gossiping. We can always talk, but during the past six weeks Paris has done nothing but talk. Don't come back with any of your number short. You have all got something in you and are too good for food for Prussian powder."
 
Cuthbert went that evening to the Michauds, in his uniform, not for the purpose of showing it off, but because men in plain clothes, especially if of fair complexions, were constantly stopped and accused of being German spies, were often ill-treated, and not unfrequently had to pass a night in the cells before[Pg 96] they could prove their identity. Mary gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing him so attired, but made no remark until after chatting for half an hour with the Michauds. The husband presently made the excuse that he had to attend a meeting and went off, while madame took up some knitting, settled herself in an easy chair, and prepared for a quiet doze, then Mary said in English—
 
"I have no patience with you, Cuthbert, taking part with these foolish people. The more I see of them the more I get tired of their bombast and their empty talk. Every man expects everyone else to do something and no one does anything."
 
"They have had nothing to stir them into action yet," he said, "only the regulars and the moblots go outside the wall, and the National Guard are practically useless until the Germans make an assault. Besides, three parts of them are married men with families, and nothing short of their homes being in danger will stir them up to risk their lives. We are going out for three days to the outposts, we fall in at five o'clock to-morrow morning."
 
"You are going to risk your life," she said, indignantly, "for the Parisians, who have no idea whatever of risking theirs. I call it madness."
 
"You are going against your own doctrines, Miss Brander. Before you were indignant with me for doing nothing and being in earnest about nothing. Now that I am doing something and that in grim earnest, you are just as indignant as you were before."
 
"I did not mean this sort of thing," she said.
 
"No, I don't suppose you contemplated this. But you wanted me to work for work's sake, although as it seemed then there was no occasion for me to work."
 
"If it had been on the other side I should not have minded."
 
"Just so," he smiled. "You have become Germanized, I have not. My friends here have all enlisted; I am going with them partly because they are my friends and partly because it is evident the Germans might have well stopped this war before[Pg 97] now, but they demand terms that France can never submit to as long as there is the faintest hope of success. You need not be at all anxious about me. We are not going to attack the Prussian positions I can assure you. We are only going out to do a little outpost duty, to learn to hear the bullets flying without ducking, and to fire our rifles without shutting our eyes. I don't suppose there are five men in the three companies who have ever fired a rifle in their lives.
 
"You see the Franc-tireurs are to a great extent independent of the military authorities—if you can call men military authorities who exercise next to no authority over their soldiers. The Franc-tireurs come and go as they choose, and a good many of them wear the uniform only as a means of escape from serving, and as a whole they are next to useless. I think our corps will do better things. We are all students of art, law or physic, and a good deal like such volunteer corps as the artists or 'Inns of Court.' Some of the younger professors are in the ranks, and at least we are all of average intelligence and education, so I fancy we shall fight if we get a chance. I don't mean now, but later on when we have gained confidence in ourselves and in our rifles. Just at present the Parisians are disposed to look upon the Germans as bogies, but this will wear off, and as discipline is recovered by the line, and the mobiles grow into soldiers, you will see that things will be very different; and although I don't indulge in any vain fancy that we are going to defeat the German army, I do think that we shall bear ourselves like men and show something of the old French spirit."
 
"That will be a change, indeed," the girl said, scornfully.
 
"Yes, it will be a change," he answered, quietly, "but by no means an impossible one. You must not take the vaporings and bombast of the Paris Bourgeois or the ranting of Blanqui and the Belleville roughs as the voice of France. The Germans thought that they were going to take Paris in three days. I doubt if they will take it in three months. If we had provisions I should say they would not take it in treble that time. They certainly would not do it without making regular ap[Pg 98]proaches, and before they can do that they have to capture some of the forts. These, as you know, are manned by 10,000 sailors, hardy marines and Bretons, well disciplined and untainted by the politics which are the curse of this country. Well, I must be going. I have to purchase my three days' store of provisions on my way back to my lodgings and shall have to turn out early."
 
"Don't do anything rash," she said, earnestly.
 
"I can assure you rashness is not in my line at all, and I don't suppose we shall ever get within five hundred yards of a Prussian soldier. You need not be in the least uneasy, even supposing that you were inclined to fidget about me?"
 
"Of course, I should fidget about you," she said, indignantly. "After knowing you ever since I was a little child, naturally I should be very sorry if anything happened to you."
 
"By the way," he said, without pursuing the subject farther, "I hear that there is a movement on foot for forming a corps of women. If they should do so it will afford you another illustration of the equality of your sex to ours in all matters, and I will go so far as to admit that I would much rather lead a company of the market-women than one composed of these Parisian shopkeepers."
 
"Don't, Mr. Hartington," she said, appealingly, "I don't feel equal to fighting now."
 
"Then we won't fight. Good-bye! If we are not lucky enough to light upon some empty cottages to sleep in I fancy the gloss will be taken out of this uniform before I see you again." He picked up his cap, shook hands, and was gone.
 
Madame Michaud woke up as the door closed.
 
"He has gone? your tall countryman."
 
"Yes, he is going out to-morrow to the outposts. I think it is very silly of him and very wrong mixing up in a quarrel that does not concern him, especially when there are tens of thousands here in Paris who, instead of fighting for their country, are content to sit all day in cafés and talk."
 
"They will fight when the time comes," Madame Michaud[Pg 99] said, complacently. "They will fight like heroes. The Prussians will learn what Frenchmen are capable of doing."
 
But Mary had no patience just at present to listen to this sort of thing, and with the excuse that her head ached went at once to her room.
 
"I do not understand these English," Madame Michaud thought, as she drew the lamp nearer and resumed her knitting, "here are a young woman and a young man who are more like comrades than lovers. She was angry, more angry than I thought she could be, for she is generally good-tempered, when I asked her, the first time he came, if they were affiancés, 'We are old friends, madame,' she said, 'and nothing but friends. Cannot a girl have a man as a friend without there being any thought of love? In England people are friends, they can talk and laugh to each other without any silly ideas of this sort occurring to them. This is one of the things that keeps woman back in the scale, this supposition that she is always thinking of love.' I did not believe her then, but I have listened to-night when they thought I was asleep, and I even peeped out two or three times between my eyelids. I could not understand a word of what they said, but one can tell things by the tone without understanding the words. There was no love-making. She scolded him and he laughed. He sat carelessly in his chair, and did not move an inch nearer to her. She was as straight and as upright as she always is.
 
"That is not the way lovers act when one is going out to fight. I peeped out when he shook hands with her. He did not hold her hand a moment, he just shook it. They are strange people, these English. It would be wrong for a French girl thus to talk to a young man, but I suppose it is different with them. Who can understand these strange islanders? Why, if Lucien were going out to fight I should dissolve in tears, I should embrace him and hang on his neck; I might even have hysterics, though I have never had them in my life. She is a good girl, too, though she has such strange ideas about women. What can she want for them? I manage the house and Lucien goes to his office. If I say a thing is to be done in the house[Pg 100] it is done. I call that equality. I cannot tell what she is aiming at. At times it seems to me that she is even more mad than her compatriots, and yet on other subjects she talks with good sense. What her father and mother can be about to let her be living abroad by herself is more than I can think. They must be even more mad than she is."
 
Work at M. Goudé's school went on steadily during the intervals between the turns of the Franc-tireurs des écoles going out beyond the walls. Indeed M. Goudé acknowledged that the work was better than usual. Certainly the studio was never merrier or more full of life. So far from the active exercise and the rough work entailed by the constant vigilance necessary during the long night-watches, diminishing the interest of the young fellows in their work in the studio, it seemed to invigorate them, and they painted as if inflamed with the determination to make up for lost time.
 
It converted them, in fact, for the time, from a group of careless, merry young fellows, into men with a sense of responsibility. Their time when away from the studio had previously been spent in follies and frivolities. They often drank much more than was good for them, smoked inordinately, were up half the night, and came in the morning to work with heavy heads and nerveless hands. Now they were soldiers, men who matched themselves against the invaders of their country, who risked their lives in her defence, and they bore themselves more erectly, a tone of earnestness replaced a languid indifference and a carelessness as to their work, and in spite of some privations in the way of food their figures seemed to expand.
 
The loss of two nights' sleep a week rendered early hours necessary, and ensured sound sleep during the remaining five. The discipline of the studio had been relaxed. The master felt that at such a time he could not expect the same silent concentration on work that it demanded at other times, but he found to his surprise that while they laughed and joked as they painted, they worked none the worse for this, and that in fact there was a general improvement manifest.
 
Cuthbert heartily enjoyed the change; the prevailing tone was[Pg 101] more like that to which he was accustomed at the studios of St. John's Wood than was the somewhat strict discipline that had before prevailed in the studio, and he enjoyed the hard work and excitement outside the walls. The fact that they were running the same risks and sharing in the same work was an added bond of union among the students; and, although, when they met, as they very frequently did in each other's lodgings, there was less uproarious fun than before; there was a healthier atmosphere, and more pleasant and earnest talk.
 
Arnold Dampierre was the only exception to the general rule. When in the field he evinced no want of spirit, and upon the contrary was always ready to volunteer when a few men were required to crawl forward at night to ascertain the precise position of the Prussian outposts or to endeavor to find out the meaning of any stir or movement that might be heard towards their front. At other times his fits of moodiness seemed to increase. He was seldom present at any of the gatherings of his companions, but went off after work at the studio was over, and it was generally late at night before he returned to his rooms.
 
Cuthbert felt that the American avoided all opportunities of conversation with him alone. He replied cordially enough to his greeting when they met, but they no longer dropped in to smoke a pipe in each other's apartments as they formerly had done. Cuthbert had no great difficulty in guessing at the reasons for this change in their relations. He himself when he first noticed that Arnold was taking the first place with Minette had spoken to him half-jestingly, half-seriously, on the subject. He had never made any secret of his own distrust of the model, and in the early days of their intercourse had spoken freely to Arnold on the subject. He could understand that if the American, as it appeared, had become really attached to her, he would shrink from the risk of any expostulations on the course he had adopted.
 
Cuthbert believed that his comrade was at present in a state of indecision, and that, although deeply in love, he had not as[Pg 102] yet been able to bring himself to the idea of taking Minette back as his wife to his home in Louisiana.
 
"It would be sheer madness,&q............