“You don’t know how it rejoices me to see you,” said Julien, speaking very fast.  “I was sad! very sad!  Some of my best friends have perished back there in those inhospitable Pennsylvania hills, and while the band was playing it made me think of the homes they will never see any more!  Don’t think I’m effusive and that I show grief too much, but my heart has been very heavy!  Alas, for the brave lads!”

“Come, come, de Langeais,” said Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder.  “You’ve no need to apologize for sorrow.  God knows we all have enough of it, but a lot of us are still alive and here’s an army ready to fight again, whenever the enemy says the word.”

“True!  True!” exclaimed de Langeais, changing at once from shadow to sunshine.  “And when we’re back in Virginia we’ll turn our faces once more to our foe!”

He took a step or two on the grass in time to the music which was now that of a dance, and the brilliant beams of the setting sun showed a face without a care.  Invincible youth and the invincible gayety of the part of the South that was French were supreme again.  Dalton, looking at him, shook his Presbyterian head.  Yet his eyes expressed admiration.

“I know your feelings,” said Harry to the Virginian.

“Well, what are they?”

“You don’t approve of de Langeais’ lightness, which in your stern code you would call levity, and yet you envy him possession of it.  You don’t think it’s right to be joyous, without a care, and yet you know it would be mighty pleasant.  You criticize de Langeais a little, but you feel it would be a gorgeous thing to have that joyous spirit of his.”

Dalton laughed.

“You’re pretty near the truth,” he said.  “I haven’t known de Langeais so very long, but if he were to get killed I’d feel that I had lost a younger brother.”

“So would I.”

Two immaculate youths, riding excellent horses, approached them, and favored them with a long and supercilious stare.

“Can the large fair person be Lieutenant Kenton of the staff of the commander-in-chief?” asked St. Clair.

“It can be and it is, although we did not think to see him again so soon,” replied Happy Tom Langdon, “and the other—­I do not allude to de Langeais—­ is that spruce and devout young man, Lieutenant George Dalton, also of the staff of the commander-in-chief.”

“Why do we find them in such humble plight, walking on weary feet in a path beside the road?”

“For the most excellent reason in the world, Arthur.”

“And what may that reason be, Tom?”

“Because at last they have come down to their proper station in life, just as surely as water finds its level.”

“But we’ll not treat them too sternly.  We must remember that they also serve who walk and wait.”

But St. Clair and Langdon, their chaff over, gave them happy greeting, and told them that the two colonels would be rejoiced to see them again, if they could spare a few minutes before rejoining their commander.