THE STANDARD-BEARER 77

his quarters in one of the suburbs of
Metz; honest Hornus was almost like
a mother with her child out at nurse,
he thought of it unceasingly. Then,
when quite discouraged, he would go
off to Metz at a stretch, and only to
have seen it still in the same place,
quiet against the wall, sent him back
full of courage and patience, bringing
with him into his soaking tent dreams
of battle, of forward marches, with the
tricolour widely outspread, floating high
above the Prussian trenches.

An order of the day from Marshal
Bazaine dashed all these illusions to
the ground. One morning, Hornus,
on awaking, saw the camp in commo-
tion, the soldiers in groups, excited,
gesticulating with cries of rage and fists
all shaken towards one side of the
town, as if their anger was directed at
some culprit. There was shouting:
‘Let us seize him! Let us shoot
him!’ And the officers took no
notice, they walked apart with their