“Oh, war! what a dreadful thing it is!”

Maurice, seeing an opportunity to retort her sermon to him, immediately took her up: 

“How is this, little sister? you are anxious to have people fight, and you speak disrespectfully of war!”

She turned and faced him, valiantly as ever:  “It is true; I abhor it, because it is an abomination and an injustice.  It may be simply because I am a woman, but the thought of such butchery sickens me.  Why cannot nations adjust their differences without shedding blood?”

Jean, the good fellow, seconded her with a nod of the head, and nothing to him, too, seemed easier—­to him, the unlettered man—­than to come together and settle matters after a fair, honest talk; but Maurice, mindful of his scientific theories, reflected on the necessity of war—­war, which is itself existence, the universal law.  Was it not poor, pitiful man who conceived the idea of justice and peace, while impassive nature revels in continual slaughter?

“That is all very fine!” he cried.  “Yes, centuries hence, if it shall come to pass that then all the nations shall be merged in one; centuries hence man may look forward to the coming of that golden age; and even in that case would not the end of war be the end of humanity?  I was a fool but now; we must go and fight, since it is nature’s law.”  He smiled and repeated his brother-in-law’s expression:  “And besides, who can tell?”

He saw things now through the mirage of his vivid self-delusion, they came to his vision distorted through the lens of his diseased nervous sensibility.

“By the way,” he continued cheerfully, “what do you hear of our cousin Gunther?  You know we have not seen a German yet, so you can’t look to me to give you any foreign news.”

The question was addressed to his brother-in-law, who had relapsed into a thoughtful silence and answered by a motion of his hand, expressive of his ignorance.

“Cousin Gunther?” said Henriette, “Why, he belongs to the Vth corps and is with the Crown Prince’s army; I read it in one of the newspapers, I don’t remember which.  Is that army in this neighborhood?”

Weiss repeated his gesture, which was imitated by the two soldiers, who could not be supposed to know what enemies were in front of them when their generals did not know.  Rising to his feet, the master of the house at last made use of articulate speech.

“Come along; I will go with you.  I learned this afternoon where the 106th’s camp is situated.”  He told his wife that she need not expect to see him again that night, as he would sleep at Bazeilles, where they had recently bought and furnished a little place to serve them as a residence during the hot months.  It was near a dyehouse that belonged to M. Delaherche.  The accountant’s mind was ill at ease in relation to certain stores that he had placed in the cellar—­a cask of wine and a couple of sacks of potatoes; the house would certainly be visited by marauders if it was left unprotected, he said, while by occupying it that night he would doubtless save it from pillage.  His wife watched him closely while he was speaking.