Monsieur and Madame Follenvie supped at the farther end of the table. The husband--puffing and blowing like a bursting locomotive--had too much cold on the chest to be able to speak and eat at the same time, but his wife never ceased talking. She described her every impression at the arrival of the Prussians and all they did and all they said, execrating them in the first place because they cost so much, and secondly because she had two sons in the army. She addressed herself chiefly to the Countess, as it flattered her to be able to say she had conversed with a lady of quality.
She presently lowered her voice and proceeded to recount some rather delicate matters, her husband breaking in from time to time with--"You had much better hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie,"--to which she paid not the slightest attention, but went on.
"Well, madame, as I was saying--these men, they do nothing but eat potatoes and pork and pork and potatoes from morning till night. And as for their habits--! And you should see them exercising for hours and days together out there in the fields--It's forward march and backward march, and turn this way and turn that. If they even worked in the fields or mended the roads in their own country! But, no, madame, these soldiers are no good to anybody, and the poor people have to keep them and feed them simply that they may learn how to massacre. I know I am only a poor ignorant old woman, but when I see these men wearing themselves out by tramping up and down from morning till night, I cannot help saying to myself, if there are some people who make a lot of useful discoveries, why should others give themselves so much trouble to do harm? After all, isn't it an abomination to kill anybody, no matter whether they are Prussians, or English, or Poles, or French? If you revenge yourself on some one who has harmed you that is wicked, and you are taken up and punished; but let them shoot down our sons as if they were game, and it is all right, and they give medals to the man who kills the most. No, no, look you, I shall never be able to see any rhyme or reason in that!"
"War is barbarous if one attacks an unoffending neighbor--it is a sacred duty if one defends one's country," remarked Cornudet in a declamatory tone.