The Hunting Wasps 



methodically with a moistened thumb and 

 smokes it solemnly. He has been thinking 

 of it for many a long hour; but he has ab- 

 stained, for tobacco is expensive. The pri- 

 vation has doubled the charm; and not a 

 puff, recurring at regular intervals, is wasted. 



Meanwhile, we start talking. Favier is, 

 in his fashion, one of those bards of old who 

 were given the best seat at the hearth, for 

 the sake of their tales; only, my story-teller 

 was formed in the barrack-room. No mat- 

 ter: the whole household, large and small, 

 listen to him with interest; though his speech 

 is full of vivid images, it is always decent. It 

 would be a great disappointment to us if he 

 did not come, when his work was done, to 

 take his ease in the chimney-corner. 



What does he talk about to make him so 

 popular? He tells us what he saw of the 

 coup d'Etat to which we owe the hated Em- 

 pire; he talks of the brandy served out and 

 of the firing into the mob. He — so he 

 assures me — always aimed at the wall; and 

 I accept his word for it, so distressed does he 

 appear to me and so ashamed of having 

 taken a hand, however innocent. In that 

 felon's game. 



He tells us of his watches in the trenches 

 352 



