LITMIR.BIZ

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flushed with victory," Captain Barclay said; "even if they were armed–and where are the arms, for a levy en masse, to come from? If Bazaine be beaten, the only hope of France is for all the troops who remain to fall back under the guns of the forts of Paris; and for France to enter upon an immense guerrilla war. For hosts of skirmishers to hang upon their flanks and rear; cutting every road, destroying every bridge, checking the movements of every detached body, and so actually starving them out, on the ground which they occupy.

      "This, however, will demand an immense amount of pluck, of endurance, of perseverance, of sacrifice, and of patriotism. The question is, does France possess these qualities?"

      "Surely, Richard, you cannot doubt the patriotism of the French," Mrs. Barclay said, a little reproachfully.

      "My dear Melanie," her husband said, "I am sorry to say that I very greatly doubt the patriotism of the French. They are–more than any people, more even than the English, whom they laugh at as a nation of shopkeepers–a money-making race. The bourgeoise class, the shopkeepers, the small proprietors, are selfish in the extreme. They think only of their money, their business, and their comforts. The lower class are perhaps better, but their first thoughts will be how the war will affect themselves and, unless there is some chance of the enemy approaching their homes, driving off their cattle, and plundering their cottages, they will look on with a very calm eye at the general ruin.

      "I believe, remember, that those who will be called out will go and, if affairs go as I fear that they will do, every man under fifty years old in France will have to go out; but it is not enough to go out. For a war like this, it will require desperate courage and endurance, and an absolute disregard of life; to counterbalance the disadvantages of want of discipline, want of arms, want of artillery, and want of organization I may be wrong–I hope that I am so–but time will show."

      "And do you think that there is any chance of their coming down here, as well as of going to Paris, papa?" Percy asked.

      "That would depend upon the length of the resistance, Percy. If France holds out, and refuses to grant any terms which the Prussians might try to impose upon them, they may overrun half the country and, as this town is directly upon their way for Lyons–the second town of France–they are exceedingly likely to come this way."

      "Well, if they do, papa," Ralph said, with heightened color, "I feel sure that every man who can carry a gun will go out, and that every home will be defended."

      "We shall see, Ralph," Captain Barclay said, "we shall see."

      Another pause, and then came the news of that terrible three days' fighting–on the 14th, 16th, and 18th–near Metz; when Bazaine, his retreat towards Paris cut off, vainly tried to force his way through the Prussian army and, failing, fell back into Metz. Even now, when the position was well-nigh desperate–with the only great army remaining shut up and surrounded; and with nothing save the fragment of MacMahon's division, with a few other regiments, collected in haste, and the new levies, encamped at Chalons, between the victorious enemy and the capital–the people of France were scarcely awake to the urgency of the position. The Government concealed at least a portion of the truth, and the people were only too ready to be deceived.

      In Dijon, however, the facts were better known, and more understood. The Swiss newspapers, containing the Prussian official telegrams and accounts, arrived daily; and those who received them speedily spread the news through the town. The consternation was great, and general, but there was no sign of despair. Those of the Mobiles who were armed and equipped were sent off, at once, to Chalons. At every corner of the street were placards, calling out the Mobiles and soldiers who had served their time; and, although not yet called to arms, the national guard drilled in the Place d'Armes, morning and evening.

      "You will allow, Richard, that you were mistaken as to the patriotism of the people," Mrs. Barclay said, one evening, to her husband. "Everyone is rushing to arms."

      "They are coming out better than I had expected, Melanie; but at the same time, you will observe that they have no choice in the matter. The Mobiles are called out, and have to go. All who can raise the most frivolous pretext for exemption do so. There is a perfect rush of young men to the Prefecture, to obtain places in the clothing, medical, arming, and equipping departments; in any sort of service, in fact, which will exempt its holder from taking up arms.

      "At the same time, there is a great deal of true, earnest patriotism. Many married men, with families, have volunteered; and those belonging to the categories called out do go, as you say, cheerfully, if not willingly and, once enrolled, appear determined to do their duty.

      "France will need all the patriotism, and all the devotion of her people to get through the present crisis. There is no saying how it will end. I have no hope, whatever, that MacMahon's new army can arrest the march of the enemy; and his true course is to fall back upon Paris. Our chance, here, of remaining free from a visit of the enemy depends entirely upon the length of time which Strasburg and Metz hold out. Bazaine may be able to cut his way out but, at any rate, he is likely to remain where he is, for some little time, under the walls of Metz; for he occupies the attention of a considerably larger force than that which he commands.

      "The vital point, at present, is to cut the roads behind the Germans. If it were not for this cork leg of mine, Melanie, I would try and raise a small guerrilla corps, and set out on my own account. I have lived here for seventeen years, now, and the French fought by our side, in the Crimea. Could I do so, I should certainly fight for France, now. It is clearly the duty of anyone who can carry a musket to go out."

      Just at this moment the door opened, and Ralph and Percy entered hastily. They both looked excited, but serious.

      "What is it, boys?"

      "Papa," Ralph said, "there is a notice up, signed by your friend Captain Tempe. He calls for a hundred volunteers, to join a corps of franc tireurs–a sort of guerrillas, I believe–to go out to harass the Germans, and cut their communication. Those who can are to provide their own arms and equipments. A meeting is to be held, tonight, for subscribing the money for those who cannot afford to do so.

      "We have come to ask you to let us join, papa. Louis and Philippe have just gone to ask uncle's leave."

      Captain Barclay listened in silence, with a very grave face. Their mother sat down in a chair, with a white face.

      "Oh, my boys, you are too young," she gasped out.

      "We are stronger, mamma, than a great many of the men who have been called out; and taller and stouter, in every way. We can walk better than the greater portion of them. We are accustomed to exercise and fatigue. We are far more fit to be soldiers than many young men who have gone from here. You said yourself, mamma, that everyone who could carry a gun ought to go out."

      "But you are not French, boys," Mrs. Barclay said, piteously.

      "We are half French, mamma. Not legally, but it has been home to us, since we were born and, even if you had not been French, we ought to fight for her."

      Mrs. Barclay looked at her husband for assistance, but Captain Barclay had leaned his face in his hands, and said nothing.

      "Ah, Ralph; but Percy at least, he is only fifteen."

      "I am nearly as big, nearly as strong as Ralph, mamma. Besides, would it not be better to have two of us? If one is ill or–or wounded–the other could look after him, you know.

      "Mamma, dearest, we have talked it over, and we think we ought to go. We are very strong for our ages; and it is strength, not years, which matters. Mamma, you said a Frenchwoman should not grudge those she loves to France; and that if France was invaded all, even the women, should go out."

      Mrs. Barclay was silent. She could not speak. She was so deadly pale, and her face had such an expression of misery, that the boys felt their resolution wavering.

      Captain Barclay looked up.

      "Boys," he said, very gravely, "I have one question to ask; which you will answer me truly, upon your faith and honor Do you wish to go merely–or principally–from a desire to see the excitement and the adventure of a guerrilla war; or do you go out because you desire earnestly to do your best, to defend the country in which you were born, and lived? Are you prepared to suffer any hardship

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