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The electrical atmosphere of the next three months saved Madeleine’s life. No spirit, however sick, could have failed to respond to such exciting treatment.

Lacaze, the steeple-jack, the lion, welcomed the War with flashing eyes. From the moment the storm broke, his one idea was to kill. When the time came, he fought with twice the ardour with which he had reduced high places. He soon became sergeant; he was worth ten ordinary men. In all his pride, however, he never forgot how once his heels had ached. Besides, his wife’s dismissal of Dudoy had made him frown....

Before he left for the battle he had arranged everything.

In reply to the questions which every soldier is asked, he stated that he was unmarried, and gave the name of Madame José Beer (née Tuyte) as that of his next-of-kin.

Then he visited the trull and told her her new estate.

José was flattered, but curious. Lacaze enlightened her.

“Now, if I should be killed, the news will come to you.”

“I shall mourn,” said José.

“As you please,” said Lacaze. “But burn the paper at once and keep your mouth shut. Tell no one. You know, I fear, that Madeleine is very stuck up.” He sighed. “It is no good mincing matters. Her pride has caused me much grief. You and I are not good enough. She would, I think, like to be free. If she were free....” He broke off and shrugged his shoulders. “There is a young officer somewhere. They correspond....”