“ ’Tis a sharp biting wind!” said he; “I wonder, what detains my boys so long! Monsieur, I shall show you two of the finest lads that ever stepped in shoe of leather. The eldest is three and twenty, the second a year younger: their equals for sense, courage, and activity, are not to be found within fifty miles of Strasbourg. Would they were back again! I begin to feel uneasy about them.”

Marguerite was at this time employed in laying the cloth.

“And are you equally anxious for the return of your sons?” said I to her.

“Not I!” she replied peevishly; “They are no children of mine.”