for machines or horses. I think he could again do valiant service for France."
At the words Madame uttered a half-suppressed cry, of which she was ashamed. But she was very tired and heartsick. The tragedy of the war was heavy upon her. The return of Pierre had given her a respite from this haunting specter of war. In his love and playfulness she had found surcease from her own heartache, and here the general was suggesting that she again give him up to his country.
She looked up at the gray—bearded little man with the blue uniform. The man who slept either in his automobile, or even on horseback, anywhere but in bed. The man who had given so much for France. She noted the tired look in his eyes and was ashamed of her own weakness.
"Forgive me, General," she said.
