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ian, and would have withdrawn, but the French officer would not hear jf it. He was so courteous, polite, good-humoured, and genuinely grateful p him for saving his life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and it down with him in the dining-room, the first room they entered. To 'ierre’s asseveration that he was not a Frenchman, the captain, plainly 'nable to comprehend how any one could refuse so flattering a title, hrugged his shoulders, and said that if he insisted in passing for a Rus- ian, so be it, but that in spite of that he should yet feel bound to him ir ever by sentiments of gratitude for the defence of his life.
If this man' had been endowed with even the slightest faculty of per- eiving the feelings of others, and had had the faintest inkling of Pierre’s entiments, the latter would probably have left him. But his lively im- enetrability to everything not himself vanquished Pierre.
‘Frenchman or Russian prince incognito,’ said the Frenchman, looking t Pierre’s fine, though dirty linen, and the ring on his finger; ‘I owe my fe to you, and I offer you my friendship. A Frenchman never forgets an isult or a service. I offer you my friendship. That’s all 1 say.’
In the tones of the voice, the expression of the face, and the gestures f the officer, there was so much naive good nature and good breeding in the French sense) that Pierre unconsciously responded with a smile 0 his smile, as he took his outstretched hand.
‘Captain Ramballe of the 13th Light Brigade, decorated for the affair f the 7th September,’ he introduced himself, an irrepressible smile of omplacency lurking under his moustache. ‘Will you tell me now to vhom I have the honour of speaking so agreeably, instead of remaining jn the ambulance with that madman’s ball in my body?’
Pierre answered that he would not tell him his name, and was beginning vith a blush, while trying to invent a name, to speak of the reasons for Vhich he was unable to do so, but the Frenchman hurriedly interrupted dm.
‘Enough! ’ he said. “I understand your reasons; you are an officer . . .
, staff officer, perhaps. You have borne arms against us. That’s not my msiness. I owe you my life. That’s enough for me. I am at your disposal, /ou are a nobleman?’ he added, with an intonation of inquiry. Pierre flowed.
‘Your baptismal name, if you please? I ask nothing more. M. Pierre, 'ou say? Perfect! That’s all I want to know.’
When they had brought in the mutton, an omelette, a samovar, vodka, ,nd wine from a Russian cellar brought with them by the French, Ram- ialle begged Pierre to share his dinner; and at once with the haste and ;reediness of a healthy, hungry man, set to work on the viands himself, nunching vigorously with his strong teeth, and continually smacking lis lips and exclaiming, ‘ExcellentI exquisl’ His face became flushed md perspiring. Pierre was hungry, and pleased to share the repast. Morel, he orderly, brought in a pot of hot water, and put a bottle of red wine 0 warm in it. He brought in too a bottle of kvass from the kitchen for hem to taste. This beverage was already known to the French, and had
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received a nickname. They called it limonade de cochon, and More praised this ‘pigs’ lemonade,’ which he had found in the kitchen. Bu as the captain had the wine they had picked up as they crossed Moscow he left the kvass for Morel, and attacked the bottle of bordeaux. H wrapped a napkin round the bottle, and poured out wine for himself am Pierre. The wine, and the satisfaction of his hunger, made the captaii even more lively, and he chatted away without a pause all dinner-time
‘Yes, my dear M. Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for saving mi from that maniac. I have bullets enough in my body, you know. Here i one from Wagram’ (he pointed to his side), ‘and two from Smolensk (he showed the scar on his cheek). ‘And this leg which won’t walk, a you see. It was at the great battle of la Moskowa on the 7th that I go that. Sacre Dieu, it was fine! You ought to have seen that; it was a delugi of fire. You cut us out a tough job; you can boast of that, my word 01 it! And on my word, in spite of the cough I caught, I should be ready t( begin again. I pity those who did not see it.’
‘I was there,’ said Pierre.
