We'll return to Mademoiselle Julie. Do you think she's
going to remain here long?"
"I would tell you if I could, sir, but no one knows. I think it depends
upon many circumstances. The young lady is most brave, as becomes one of
her blood, and the changes in France are great. All of us who may not
fight can serve otherwise."
"Why is it that you're not fighting, Picard?"
The great peasant flung up his arms angrily.
"Because I am beyond the age. Because I am too old, they said. Think of
it! I, Antoine Picard, could take two of these little officers and crush
them to death at once in my arms! There is not in all this army a man
who could walk farther than I can! There is not one who could lift the
wheel of a cannon out of the mud more quickly than I can, and they would
not take me! What do a few years mean?"
"Nothing in your case, Antoine, but they'll take you, later on. Never
fear. Before this war is over every country in it will need all the men
it can get, whether old or young."
"I fear that it is so," said the gigantic peasant, a shadow crossing his
stern face, "but, sir, one thing is decided. France, the France of the
Revolution, the France that belongs to its people, will not fall."
John looked at him with a new interest. Here was a peasant, but a
thinking peasant, and there were millions like him in France. They were
not really peasants in the old sense of the word, but workingmen with a
stake in the country, and the mind and courage to defend it.
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