“Oh-h, terrible! tha’z to you good news?”

“Yes.  Look, monsieur; he has, at the front, the chance to be hit so many times.  If he’s hit and only wounded his chances to be hit again are made one less, eh?  And while he’s in hospital they are again two or three less.  Shall we not be glad for that?  And moreover, how he got his wound, that is better.  He got that taking, by himself, nine Boches!  And still the best news is what he writes about his friend Castanado.”

“Ah, Melanie!  And you hold that back till now?  And you know we are without news of him sinze a month!  He’s promote’?  He’s decorate’?”

“He’s found a treasure.  I think maybe you’ll get his letter to-morrow.  Me, I got mine soon; passing the post-office I went in and asked.”

“But how, he found a treasure? and what sort?”

“He just happened to dig it up, in a cellar, in Rheims.  He’s betrothed.’

“Melanie!  What are you saying?”

“What he says.  And that’s all he says.  I hope you’ll hear all about that to-morrow.”

“Oh, any’ow tha’z the bes’ of news!” Castanado said, kissing his wife’s hand and each temple.  “Doubtlezz he’s find some lovely orphan of that hideouz war; we can trus’ his good sense, our son.  But, Melanie, he muz’ have been sick, away from the front, to make that courtship.”

“I do not know.  Everything happens terribly fast these days.  I hope you’ll hear all about that to-morrow.”

Castanado playfully lifted a finger:  “Melanie, how is that, you pass that poss-office, when it is up-town, while you—?” The question hung unfinished—­maybe because Melanie turned so red, maybe because the door-bell rang again.

Enlivened by the high art they had been enjoying and by the fresh night air, a full half-dozen came in:  M. and Mme. De l’Isle, whom the others had chanced upon as they left the theatre; Dubroca and his wife; Mme. Alexandre; and finally Beloiseau.  “Melanie!” was the cry of each of these as he or she turned from saluting madame; this was one of madame’s largest joys; to get early report from larger or smaller fractions of the coterie, on the good things they had seen or heard, from which her muchness otherwise debarred her.  The De l’Isles, however, were not such a matter of course as the others, and Mme. De l’Isle, as she greeted Mme. Castanado, said, in an atmosphere that trembled with its load of mingled French and English: 

“We got something to show you!”

In the same atmosphere—­“And how got you away from yo’ patient?” Mme. Alexandre asked her daughter as they embraced a second time.

“I tore myself,” said Melanie, while Castanado, to all the rest, was saying: 

“And such great news as Mel’——­”

But a sharp glance from Melanie checked him.  “Such great news as we have receive’!  Our son is bethroath’!—­to a good, dizcreet, beautiful French girl; which he foun’, in a cellar at Rheims!” When a drum-fire of questions fell on him he grew reticent and answered quietly:  “We have only that by firz’ letter.  Full particular’ pretty soon, perchanze to-morrow.”