Mr．and Mrs．Follenvie dined at the end of the table．The man，rattling like a crackled locomotive，had too much trouble in breathing to talk while eating，but his wife was never silent．She told all her impressions at the arrival of the Prussians，what they did，what they said，reviling them because they cost her some money，and because she had two sons in the army．She ad-dressed herself especially to the Countess，flattered by being able to talk with a lady of quality．
When she lowered her voice to say some delicate thing；her husband would interrupt，from time to time，with：“You had better keep silent，Madame Follenvie．”But she paid no attention，continuing in this fashion：
“Yes，Madame，those people there not only eat our potatoes and pork，but our pork and potatoes．And it must not be believed that they are at all proper-oh，no！such filthy things they do，saving the respect I owe to you！And if you could see them exercise for hours in the day！they are all there in the field，marching ahead，then marching back，turning here and turning there．They might be cultivating the land，or at least working on the roads of their own country！But no，Madame，these military men are profitable to no one．Poor people have to feed them，or perhaps be murdered！I am only an old woman without education，it is true，but when I see some endangering their constitutions by raging from morning to night，I say：“When there are so many people found to be useless，how unnecessary it is for others to take so much trouble to be nuisances！Truly，is it not an abomination to kill people，whether they be Prussian，or English，or Polish，or French？If one man revenges himself upon another who has done him some in-jury，it is wicked and he is punished；but when they ex-terminate our boys，as if they were game，with guns，they give decorations，indeed，to the one who destroys the most！Now，you see，I can never understand that，never！”
Cornudet raised his voice：“War is a barbarity when one attacks a peaceable neighbor，but a sacred duty when one defends his country．”
The old woman lowered her head：
“Yes，when one defends himself，it is another thing；but why not make it a duty to kill all the kings who make these wars for their pleasure？”
Cornudet's eyes flashed．“Bravo，my country－woman！”said he．
Mr．Carré－Lamadon reflected profoundly．Al－though he was prejudiced as a Captain of Industry，the good sense of this peasant woman made him think of the opulence that would be brought into the country were the idle and consequently mischievous hands，and the troops which were now maintained in unproductiveness，employed in some great industrial work that it would require centuries to achieve．
Loiseau，leaving his place，went to speak with the innkeeper in a low tone of voice．The great man laughed，shook，and squeaked，his corpulence quivered with joy at the jokes of his neighbor，and he bought of him six cases of wine for spring，after the Prussians had gone．
As soon as supper was finished，as they were worn out with fatigue，they retired．
However，Loiseau，who had observed things，after getting his wife to bed，glued his eye and then his ear to a hole in the wall，to try and discover what are known as“the mysteries of the corridor．”
At the end of about an hour，he heard a groping，and，looking quickly，he perceived Ball－of－Fat，who appeared still more plump in a blue cashmere negligee trimmed with white lace．She had a candle in her hand and was directing her steps toward the great door at the end of the corridor．But a door at the side opened，and when she returned at the end of some minutes Cornudet，in his suspenders，followed her．They spoke low．then they stopped．Ball－of－Fat seemed to be de－fending the entrance to her room with energy．Loiseau，unfortunately，could not hear all their words，but final-ly，as they raised their voices，he was able to catch a few．Cornudet insisted with vivacity．He said：“Come，now，you are a silly woman；what harm can be done？”
She had an indignant air in responding：“No，my dear，there are moments when such things are out of place．Here it would be a shame．”
He doubtless did not comprehend and asked why．Then she cried out，raising her voice still more：
“Why？you do not see why？When there are Prussians in the house，in the very next room，perhaps？”
He was silent．This patriotic shame of the harlot，who would not suffer his caress so near the enemy，must have awakened the latent dignity in his heart，for after simply kissing her，he went back to his own door with a bound．
Loiseau，much excited，left the aperture，cut a ca-per in his room，put on his pajamas，turned back the clothes that covered the bony carcass of his companion，whom he awakened with a kiss，murmuring：“Do you love me，dearie？”
Then all the house was still．And immediately there arose somewhere，from an uncertain quarter，which might be the cellar but was quite as likely to be the garret，a powerful snoring，monotonous and regular，a heavy，prolonged sound，like a great kettle under pressure．Mr．Follenvie was asleep．
As they had decided that they would set out at eight o'clock the next morning，they all collected in the kitchen．But the carriage，the roof of which was covered with snow，stood undisturbed in the courtyard，without horses and without a conductor．They sought him in vain in the stables，in the hay，and in the coach-house．Then they resolved to scour the town，and start－ed out．They found themselves in a square，with a church at one end，and some low houses on either side， where they perceived some Prussian soldiers．The first one they saw was paring potatoes．The second，further off，was cleaning the hairdresser's shop．Another，bearded to the eyes，was tending a troublesome brat，cradling it and trying to appease it；and the great peasant women，whose husbands were“away in the army，”indicated by signs to their obedient conquerors the work they wished to have done：cutting wood，cooking the soup，grinding the coffee，or what not．One of them even washed the linen of his hostess，an impotent old grandmother．
The Count，astonished，asked questions of the beadle who came out of the rectory．The old man responded：
“Oh！those men are not wicked；they are not the Prussians we hear about．They are from far off，I know not where；and they have left wives and children in their country；it is not amusing to them，this war，I can tell you！I am sure they also weep for their homes，and that it makes as much sorrow among them as it does among us．Here，now，there is not so much unhappiness for the moment，because the soldiers do no harm and they work as if they were in their own homes．You see，sir，among poor people it is necessary that they aid one another．These are the great traits which war develops．”
Cornudet，indignant at the cordial relations between the conquerors，and the conquered，preferred to shut himself up in the inn．Loiseau had a joke for the occasion：“They will repeople the land．”
Mr．Carré－Lamadon had a serious word：“They try to make amends．”