They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. The walls were of immense thickness; the small windows double-grated and unglazed; the fire-place was without a grate; and a barrack-bed, divided into two compartments, occupied one corner. The gulf between rich and poor was perhaps greater in France, but by all accounts it was not the canaille who were responsible for the present turmoil. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag.
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