That evening they had taken some refreshment with a French friend who was going the next morning to join his regiment.

The girl had sometimes seen him with Argensola without noticing him particularly, but now she suddenly began admiring him as though he were another person.

She had given up the idea of returning home that night; she wanted to see how a war begins.

The three had dined together, and all her interest had centred upon the one who was going away.

She even took offense, with sudden modesty, when Argensola tried as he had often done before, to squeeze her hand under the table.