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The first caller that the flag brought me was on the morning after the regiment marched by it. I was upstairs. Amélie called up that there was "un petit soldat" at the door. They are all "les petits soldats" to her, even when they are six feet tall. She loves to see them coming into the garden.
Regardez nos p'tits soldats, Ils ont l'air d'être un peu l
Lay me down on the ground at your feet so! I shall live longest that way, and I have much to tell. How they crowd around me! Mes soldats, do not make that grief and that rage over me. They are sorry they fired; that is foolish. They were only doing their duty, and they could not hear me in time."
Those local companies of well-trained troops were not semi-British but truly Russian. They never failed their dobra Amerikanski soldats, whose close order drill on the streets of Pinega was a source of inspiration to the Russian recruits.
Always now the name of France will be like a song in my heart, stirring a thousand memories of valour and fine endurance, and of patience in this senseless business of slaughter, which made you unwilling butchers and victims of a bloody sacrifice. Bonne chance, soldats de France!
Madame promptly opened a door, and displayed a little girl in bed a very flushed and feverish little girl. Cockerell grinned sympathetically at the patient, to that young lady's obvious gratification; and turned to the mother. "Je suis tres triste," he said; "j'ai grand miséricorde. Je ne placerai pas de soldats ici. Bon jour!" By this time he was in the street again.
The colonel, a fine-looking man in the sixties, came last from the church, and stood on the steps surrounded by his officers. The dusk was falling. "Officiers, sous-officiers, soldats. "Lieutenant de Blanchet, whose death we deplore, was a gallant officer, a true comrade, and a loyal Frenchman. In order that France might live, he was willing to close his eyes on her forever."
The indignation of the constitutional party burst forth in ironical strophes in a hymn of André Chénier, in which that young poet avenged the laws, and marked himself out for the scaffold. "Salut divin triomphe! Entre dans nos murailles! Rends nous ces soldats, illustrés Par le sang de Désilles et par les funérailles De nos citoyens massacrés!"
"Halte!" The boat stopped short. The crew looked over their shoulders. "Les soldats!" Upon the ridge a shako bobbed up. A figure in uniform rose and ran at it "Keep your eads down there all along the line!" it shouted. "Wait till I give the word, Royal Stand-backs." The Gentleman sprang up in the boat. "Ramez toujours, mes enfants!" he cried. "C'est une ruse!" The men hung on their oars.
The first, a fervent sympathy with our soldiers, who were engaged in the struggle ces pauvres soldats, the real France, the real PEOPLE, obeying the noblest motives honour duty opposing the POPULACE, whose envy and evil instincts had been let loose by a handful of ambitious men.
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