The Young Franc Tireurs | Page 2

day.
It was certain--quite certain, now--that there was to be war with Prussia. The newspapers had said so, for some days; but then, bah! who believes a newspaper? Monsieur le Prefect had published the news, today; and everyone knows that Monsieur le Prefect is not a man to say a thing, unless it were true. Most likely the Emperor, himself, had written to him. Oh! There could be no doubt about it, now.
It was singular to hear, amidst all the talk, that the speculation and argument turned but little upon the chances of the war, itself; it being tacitly assumed to be a matter of course that the Germans would be defeated, with ease, by the French. The great subject of speculation was upon the points which directly affected the speakers. Would the Mobiles be called out, and forced to march; would soldiers who had served their time be recalled to the service, even if they were married; and would next year's conscripts be called out, at once? These were the questions which everyone asked, but no one could answer. In another day or two, it was probable that the orders respecting these matters would arrive and, in the meantime, the merry Burgundian girls endeavored to hide their own uneasiness by laughingly predicting an early summons to arms to the young men of their acquaintance.
At the Lycee--or great school--the boys are just coming out. They are too excited to attend to lessons, and have been released hours before their usual time. They troop out from the great doors, talking and gesticulating. Their excitement, however, takes a different form to that which that of English boys would do, under the same circumstances. There was no shouting, no pushing, no practical jokes. The French boy does not play; at least, he does not play roughly. When young he does, indeed, sometimes play at buchon--a game something similar to the game of buttons, as played by English street boys. He may occasionally play at marbles but, after twelve years of age, he puts aside games as beneath him. Prisoners' base, football, and cricket are alike unknown to him; and he considers any exertion which would disarrange his hair, or his shirt collar, as barbarous and absurd. His amusements are walking in the public promenade, talking politics with the gravity of a man of sixty, and discussing the local news and gossip.
This is the general type of French school boy. Of course, there are many exceptions and, in the Lycee of Dijon, these were more numerous than usual. This was due, to a great extent, to the influence of the two boys who are coming out of the school, at the present moment. Ralph and Percy Barclay are--as one can see at first sight--English; that is to say, their father is English, and they have taken after him, and not after their French mother. They are French born, for they first saw the light at the pretty cottage where they still live, about two miles out of the town; but their father, Captain Barclay, has brought them up as English boys, and they have been for two years at a school in England.
Their example has had some effect. Their cousins, Louis and Philippe Duburg, are almost as fond of cricket, and other games, and of taking long rambles for miles round, as they are themselves. Other boys have also taken to these amusements and, consequently, you would see more square figures, more healthy faces at the Lycee at Dijon than at most other French schools. The boys who joined in these games formed a set in themselves, apart from the rest. They were called either the English set or, contemptuously, the "savages;" but this latter name was not often applied to them before their faces, for the young Barclays had learned to box, in England; and their cousins, as well as a few of the others, had practised with the gloves with them. Consequently, although the "savages" might be wondered at, and sneered at behind their backs, the offensive name was never applied in their hearing.
At the present moment, Ralph Barclay was the center of a knot of lads of his own age.
"And so, you don't think that we shall get to Berlin, Ralph Barclay? You think that these Prussian louts are going to beat the French army? Look now, it is a little strong to say that, in a French town."
"But I don't say that, at all," Ralph Barclay said. "You are talking as if it was a certainty that we were going to march over the Prussians. I simply say, don't be too positive. There can be no doubt about the courage of the French army; but pluck, alone, won't do. The question is, are our generals and our organization as good as