This officer was the son of a widow that kept a grocer's shop in Paris.
She intended him for spice, but he thirsted for glory, and vexed her. So
she yielded, as mothers will.
In the armies of the republic a good soldier rose with unparalleled
certainty, and rapidity, too; for when soldiers are being mowed down
like oats, it is a glorious time for such of them as keep their feet.
Raynal mounted fast, and used to write to his mother, and joke her about
the army being such a bad profession; and, as he was all for glory, not
money, he lived with Spartan frugality, and saved half his pay and all
his prize money for the old lady in Paris.
But this prosperous man had to endure a deep disappointment; on the very
day he was made commandant and one of the general's aides-de-camp, came
a letter into the camp. His mother was dead after a short illness. This
was a terrible blow to the simple, rugged soldier, who had never had
much time nor inclination to flirt with a lot of girls, and toughen his
heart. He came back to Paris honored and rich, but downcast. The old
home, empty of his mother, seemed to him not to have the old look.
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