when the deserters left us; but far more hot and sharp. I seized her
soft hands and crushed them in mine. 'You would leave me!' I said. 'You
would desert your husband. You would go over to our enemies!'

'O Martin, say not so,' she cried, with tears. 'Not enemies. There is
our little Marie, and my mother, who died when I was born.'

'You love these dead tyrants. Yes,' I said, 'you love them best. You
will go to--the majority, to the strongest. Do not speak to me! Because
your God is on their side, you will forsake us too.'

Then she threw herself upon me and encircled me with her arms. The touch
of them stilled my passion; but yet I held her, clutching her gown, so
terrible a fear came over me that she would go and come back no more.

'Forsake thee!' she breathed out over me with a moan. Then, putting her
cool cheek to mine, which burned, 'But I would die for thee, Martin.'

'Silence, my wife: that is what you shall not do,' I cried, beside
myself. I rose up; I put her away from me. That is, I know it, what has
been done. Their God does this, they do not hesitate to say--takes from
you what you love best, to make you better--_you!_ and they ask you to
love Him when He has thus despoiled you! 'Go home, Agnès,' I said,
hoarse with terror. 'Let us face them as we may; you shall not go among
them, or put thyself in peril. Die for me! _Mon Dieu!_ and what then,
what should I do then? Turn your face from them; turn from them; go! go!
and let me not see thee here again.'

My wife did not understand the terror that seized me. She obeyed me, as
she always does, but, with the tears falling from her white cheeks,