his breast. This brilliant feat of arms will enable me to enter Lang-Son
tomorrow.--GENERAL BRIERE DE L'ISLE."

Upon reading these words, Mons. Sauvallier felt a strange emotion, in
which anguish mingled with joy. For a moment he was silent; then he said
to his son, "You think that it is he? He is, then, a captain?"

He read the despatch again, then murmured softly: "The cross! Condition
hopeless!" And a tear rolled down his cheek.

Two hours later the family received a formal intimation of Camille's
deed and state from the Minister of War, and on the following day all
the journals were praising Captain Sauvallier, son of the respected
founder, of Grenelle. And now they gave details. Camille, it appeared,
had been nominated captain a few months back. Throughout the campaign he
had distinguished himself by his imperturbable coolness under fire, and
reckless scorn of the death which he seemed to seek.

His act of heroic energy stirred the enthusiasm of Press and populace,
and the name of Sauvallier was on every lip. Camille's portrait appeared
in the shop-windows; the illustrated journals depicted him before the
redoubt, carried upon the shoulders of two men, his sword pointed
towards the enemy, encouraging his soldiers by his voice, gesture, and
look, his forehead bound with a handkerchief, and his face bleeding.

Mons. Sauvallier could not go out of doors without seeing his son's
presentment. From the news-stalls of the boulevards, the corners of the
streets, the publishers' shop-fronts, a ubiquitous Camille watched him
pass, and seemed to follow him with his eyes. Almost at each step the
father received congratulations, while complimentary letters and cards