[Illustration:  Soldiers at the chateau.]

W. introduced the officers—­a nice-looking lot, chasseurs, in the light-blue uniform, which is so smart.  He had asked permission for the men to dine at the chateau.  They had their own meat and bread, but our chef was most anxious to cook it for them, and make them another substantial dish; so it was agreed that they should dine at six in the servants’ hall.  They all marched up in procession, headed by their sergeants; the blue tunics and red trousers looked very pretty as they came along the big avenue.  The commandant asked W. if he would go and say a few words to them when they were having their coffee.  They were very quiet; one hardly heard anything, though all the windows were open.  W. said it was quite interesting to see all the young faces smiling and listening hard when he made his little speech.  He asked them if they had had a good dinner; he hoped his man knew how to cook for soldiers.  They all nodded and smiled at the chef, who was standing at the door looking very hot and very pleased.  He had produced a sweet dish—­I don’t know what with, as he didn’t habitually have thirty extra people to dinner—­but I have always seen that when people want to do anything it is usually accomplished.

Our dinner was very pleasant.  We were ten at table—­W. and I, Henrietta, and a niece.  The men talked easily, some of them Parisians, knowing every one.  They knew that W. had remained at the chateau all during the Franco-German War, and were much interested in all he told them of the Prussian occupation.  Only one of them had, as a very young fellow, served in 1870.  All the rest were too young, and, like all young soldiers who have not been through a war and seen the horrors of it, were rather anxious to have their chance, and not spend all the best years of their lives in a small, dull garrison town.

We discussed the plans for the next day.  They were going to have a sham fight over all the big fields in our neighbourhood, and advised us to come and see it.  They said the best time would be about ten in the morning, when they were to monter a l’assaut of a large farm with moat and drawbridge near Dammarie.  They were to make a very early start (four o’clock), and said they would be very pleased to have some hot coffee before mounting, if it could be had at that unearthly hour.  They were very anxious about choosing a horse out of their squadron for the general, who was an infantryman, very stout, very rheumatic, and a very bad rider.  The horse must be sure-footed, an easy mouth, easy canter, no tricks, accustomed to drum and bugle, to say nothing of the musket-shots, etc.