Ah! how odd it is to think one will be dead some day--never wake for the reveille--never hear the cannon or the caissons roll by--never stir when the trumpets sound the charge, but lie there dead--dead--dead--while the squadrons thunder above one's grave! Droll, eh ?" A momentary pathos softened her voice, where she stood in the glistening moonlight.

That the time would ever come when her glad laughter would be hushed, when her young heart would beat no more, when the bright, abundant, passionate blood would bound no longer through her veins, when all the vivacious, vivid, sensuous charms of living would be ended for her forever, was a thing that she could no better bring home to her than a bird that sings in the light of the sun could be made to know that the time would come when its little, melodious throat would be frozen in death, and give song never more.
The tone touched him--made him think less and less of her as a dare-devil boy, as a reckless child-soldier, and more of her as what she was, than he had done before; he touched her almost caressingly.
"Pauvre enfant! I hope that day will be very distant from you.

And yet--how bravely you risked death for me just now!" Cigarette, though accustomed to the lawless loves of the camp, flushed ever so slightly at the mere caress of his hand.
"I risked nothing!" she said rapidly.

"As for death--when it comes, it comes.

Every soldier carries it in his wallet, and it may jump out on him any minute.