The afternoon was lamentable．They could not understand this caprice of the German；and the most singular ideas would come into their heads to trouble them．Everybody staved in the kitchen and discussed the situation endlessly，imagining all sorts of unlikely things．Perhaps they would be retained as hostages—but to what end？—or taken prisoners—or rather a consider－able ransom might be demanded．At this thought a panic prevailed．The richest were the most frightened，al－ready seeing themselves constrained to pay for their lives with sacks of gold poured into the hands of this insolent soldier．They racked their brains to think of some acceptable falsehoods to conceal their riches and make them pass themselves off for poor people，very poor people．Loiseau took off the chain to his watch and hid it away in his pocket．The falling night increased their apprehensions．The lamp was lighted，and as there was still two hours before dinner，Madame Loiseau proposed a game of Thirty－one．It would be a diversion．They accepted．Cornudet himself，having smoked out his pipe，took part for politeness．

The Count shuffled the cards，dealt，and Ball－of－Fat had thirty-one at the outset；and immediately the interest was great enough to appease the fear that haunted their minds．Then Cornudet perceived that the house of Loiseau was given to tricks．

As they were going to the dinner table，Mr．Follenvie again appeared，and，in wheezing，rattling voice，announced：

“The Prussian officer orders me to ask Miss Elizabeth Rousset if she has yet changed her mind．”

Ball－of-Fat remained standing and was pale；then suddenly becoming crimson，such a stifling anger took possession of her that she could not speak．But finally she flashed out：“You may say to the dirty beast，that idiot，that carrion of a Prussian，that I shall never change it；you understand，never，never，never！”

The great innkeeper went out．Then Ball-of-Fat was immediately surrounded，questioned，and solicited by all to disclose the mystery of his visit．She resisted，at first，but soon becoming exasperated，she said：“What does he want？You really want to know what he wants？He wants to sleep with me．”

Everybody was choked for words，and indignation was rife．Cornudet broke his glass，so violently did．he bring his fist down upon the table．There was a clamor of censure against this ignoble soldier，a blast of anger，a union of all for resistance，as if a demand had been made on each one of the party for the sacrifice exacted of her．The Count declared with disgust that those people conducted themselves after the fashion of the ancient barbarians．The women，especially，showed to Ball－of－Fat a most energetic and tender commiseration．The good sisters who only showed themselves at mealtime．lowered their heads and said nothing．

They all dined，nevertheless，when the first furore had abated．But there was little conversation；they were thinking．

The ladies retired early，and the men，all smoking，organized a game at cards to which Mr．Follenvie was invited，as they intended to put a few casual questions to him on the subject of conquering the resistance of this officer．But he thought of nothing but the cards and，without listening or answering，would keep repeating：“To the game，sirs，to the game．”His attention was so taken that he even forgot to expectorate，which must have put him some points to the good with the organ in his breast．His whistling lungs ran the whole asthmatic scale，from deep，profound tones to the sharp rustiness of a young cock essaying to crow．

He even refused to retire when his wife，who had fallen asleep previously，came to look for him．She went away alone，for she was an“early bird，”always up with the sun，while her husband was a“night owl，”al-ways ready to pass the night with his friends．He cried............