Mr. and Mrs. Follenvie were dining at the other end of the table, the man, rattling like a broken down locomotive, was too short winded to talk while eating; but the woman never kept silent.  She told all her impressions on the arrival of the Prussians, what they did, what they said, execrating them first because they cost them money, and then because she had two sons in the Army.  She spoke especially to the Countess, flattered at the opportunity of talking with a lady of quality.

Then she lowered her voice to broach delicate subjects, and her husband interrupted her now and then:—­“You better hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie!”—­But she did not pay any attention to his admonitions, and continued,

—­“Yes, Madame, these people do nothing but eat potatoes and pork, and again pork and potatoes.  And you must not think that they are clean.  Oh, No, indeed not!—­They soil and dirty everything, permit me the expression.  And if you saw them drill for hours and days! they are all there, in a field, and march forward and march backward, and turn this way and turn that way.  If at least they cultivated the land, or worked on the roads, in their country!—­But no, Madame, these soldiers are good for nothing; what a pity that the poor people should toil and feed them and they should learn nothing but how to massacre!—­I am only an uneducated old woman, it is true, but in seeing them wear themselves out by marching from morning till night, I say to myself:—­“When there are so many people who make so many discoveries to serve the people, why should others take so much trouble to be harmful?  Truly, is it not abominable to kill people, whether they are Prussians, or English, or Polish or French?—­If you take revenge on somebody, who has wronged you, that is bad enough, because you are condemned to jail, but when our boys are exterminated like game, with guns, it must be all right, because decorations are given to the man who kills the most—­No, indeed, I shall never be able to understand it.”

Cornudet raised his voice: 

—­“War is barbarous when you attack a peaceful neighbor; it is a sacred duty when waged in defense of one’s country.”

The old woman lowered her head.

—­“Yes in self-defense, it is another matter, but shouldn’t we rather kill off all the Kings who go to war for their own pleasure?”

—­Cornudet’s eyes flashed: 

—­“Bravo, citoyenne[*]!” said he.

[*][Note from Brett:  This translates, roughly, into “citizen”]

Mr. Carre-Lamadon was in deep meditation.  Although a fanatical admirer of illustrious generals, the common sense of that peasant woman made him think of the opulence that would bring to a country so many hands now idle and necessarily ruinous, so many forces kept unproductive, if they were employed for the great industrial enterprises which, at the present pace, it would take centuries to complete.

But Loiseau, leaving his seat, went and spoke in a very low voice to the inn-keeper.  The fat man was laughing, coughing, and expectorating.  His enormous stomach shook with merriment at the jokes of his neighbor, and he bought from him six casks of claret to be delivered in the Spring, after the departure of the Prussians.