“A poet, Weber!  A poet!” interjected Captain Colton.

“No, sir, I but speak the truth,” said Weber seriously.  “Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, though a young girl but yet, promises to become the most beautiful woman in Europe, and beauty carries with it many privileges.  Men may have political equality, but women can never have an equality of looks.”

“Right, Weber,” said Captain Colton.

John’s pulses had begun to leap.  Julie was coming back to the front, and she would not be so far away.  Some day he might see her again.  But he felt anxiety.

“Is the journey to Chastel safe, after she leaves the railway?” he asked of Weber.

“Is anything safe now?”

“Nothing in Europe,” interjected Captain Colton.

“But I don’t think Mademoiselle Lannes will incur much danger,” said Weber.  “It’s true, roving bands of Uhlans or hussars sometimes pass in our rear, but it’s likely that she and other French girls going to the front march under strong escort.”

His tone was reassuring, but his words left John still troubled.

“My object in telling you of Mademoiselle Lannes’ movements, Mr. Scott,” continued Weber, “was to enable you to notify Lieutenant Lannes of her exact location in case you should see him.  Knowing your great friendship I thought it inevitable that you two should soon meet once more.  If so, tell him that his sister is at Chastel.  He will be glad to know of her arrival and, work permitting, will hurry to her there.”

“Gladly I’ll do it,” said John.  “I wish I could see Philip now.”

But when he said “Philip” he was thinking of Julie, although the bond of friendship between him and young Lannes had not diminished one whit.

“And now,” said Weber, “with Captain Colton’s permission I’ll go.  My duties take me southward, and night is coming fast.”

“And it will be dark, cold and snowy,” said John, shivering a little.  “These trenches are not exactly palace halls, but I’d rather be in them now than out there on such a night.”

The dusk had come and the French fire was dying.  In a few more minutes it would cease entirely, and then the French hour with the guns having matched the German hour, the night would be without battle.

But the silence that succeeded the thunder of the guns was somber.  In all that terrible winter John had not seen a more forbidding night.  The snow increased and with it came a strong wind that reached them despite their shelter.  The muddy trenches began to freeze lightly, but the men’s feet broke through the film of ice and they walked in an awful slush.  It seemed impossible that the earth could ever have been green and warm and sunny, and that Death was not always sitting at one’s elbow.

The darkness was heavy, but nevertheless as they talked they did not dare to raise their heads above the trenches.  The German searchlights might blaze upon them at any moment, showing the mark for the sharpshooters.  But Captain Colton pressed his electric torch and the three in the earthy alcove saw one another well.