At the time when she had still believed in her son she had sacrificed her small income, which he had squandered in pursuits she dared not investigate.  Even now he drained the household; all its resources went to the streets, and it was through him that she lived in penury, with empty rooms and cold kitchen.  She never spoke to him of all those things, for with her sense of discipline he remained the master.  Only at times she shuddered at the sudden fear that Burle might someday commit some foolish misdeed which would prevent Charles from entering the army.

She was rising up to fetch a fresh piece of wood in the kitchen when a fearful hurricane fell upon the house, making the doors rattle, tearing off a shutter and whirling the water in the broken gutters like a spout against the window.  In the midst of the uproar a ring at the bell startled the old lady.  Who could it be at such an hour and in such weather?  Burle never returned till after midnight, if he came home at all.  However, she went to the door.  An officer stood before her, dripping with rain and swearing savagely.

“Hell and thunder!” he growled.  “What cursed weather!”

It was Major Laguitte, a brave old soldier who had served under Colonel Burle during Mme Burle’s palmy days.  He had started in life as a drummer boy and, thanks to his courage rather than his intellect, had attained to the command of a battalion, when a painful infirmity—­the contraction of the muscles of one of his thighs, due to a wound—­obliged him to accept the post of major.  He was slightly lame, but it would have been imprudent to tell him so, as he refused to own it.

“What, you, Major?” said Mme Burle with growing astonishment.

“Yes, thunder,” grumbled Laguitte, “and I must be confoundedly fond of you to roam the streets on such a night as this.  One would think twice before sending even a parson out.”

He shook himself, and little rivulets fell from his huge boots onto the floor.  Then he looked round him.

“I particularly want to see Burle.  Is the lazy beggar already in bed?”

“No, he is not in yet,” said the old woman in her harsh voice.

The major looked furious, and, raising his voice, he shouted:  “What, not at home?  But in that case they hoaxed me at the cafe, Melanie’s establishment, you know.  I went there, and a maid grinned at me, saying that the captain had gone home to bed.  Curse the girl!  I suspected as much and felt like pulling her ears!”

After this outburst he became somewhat calmer, stamping about the room in an undecided way, withal seeming greatly disturbed.  Mme Burle looked at him attentively.

“Is it the captain personally whom you want to see?” she said at last.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Can I not tell him what you have to say?”

“No.”

She did not insist but remained standing without taking her eyes off the major, who did not seem able to make up his mind to leave.  Finally in a fresh burst of rage he exclaimed with an oath:  “It can’t be helped.  As I am here you may as well know—­after all, it is, perhaps, best.”