him? Every bullet has its billet, they say, but you stand no worse
chance than the rest of us."

"Oh, but me--I am as good as dead now. I tell you I shall be killed
to-day."

The near files turned and looked at him curiously, asking him if he
had had a dream. No, he had dreamed nothing, but he felt it; it was
there.

"And it is a pity, all the same, because I was to be married when I
got my discharge."

A vague expression came into his eyes again; his past life rose before
him. He was the son of a small retail grocer at Lyons, and had been
petted and spoiled by his mother up to the time of her death; then
rejecting the proffer of his father, with whom he did not hit it off
well, to assist in purchasing his discharge, he had remained with the
army, weary and disgusted with life and with his surroundings. Coming
home on furlough, however, he fell in love with a cousin and they
became engaged; their intention was to open a little shop on the small
capital which she would bring him, and then existence once more became
desirable. He had received an elementary education; could read, write,
and cipher. For the past year he had lived only in anticipation of
this happy future.

He shivered, and gave himself a shake to dispel his revery, repeating
with his tranquil air:

"Yes, it is too bad; I shall be killed to-day."