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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Frontier
+
+Author: Maurice LeBlanc
+
+Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos
+
+Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28480]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRONTIER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FRONTIER
+
+BY
+
+MAURICE LEBLANC
+
+AUTHOR OF "ARSENE LUPIN," "813," ETC.
+
+TRANSLATED BY
+
+ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
+
+[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
+
+HODDER & STOUGHTON
+NEW YORK
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+
+Copyright, 1912,
+By Maurice Leblanc
+
+Copyright, 1912,
+By George H. Doran Company
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+PART I
+
+CHAPTER                             PAGE
+
+   I A HEAD BETWEEN THE BUSHES         3
+
+  II THE GIRL WITH THE BARE ARMS      17
+
+ III THE VIOLET PAMPHLET              30
+
+  IV PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE            46
+
+   V THE SHEET OF NOTE-PAPER          58
+
+  VI THE PLASTER STATUE               66
+
+ VII EVE TRIUMPHANT                   76
+
+VIII THE TRAP                         94
+
+
+PART II
+
+   I THE TWO WOMEN                   107
+
+  II PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE            118
+
+ III FATHER AND SON                  133
+
+  IV THE ENQUIRIES                   150
+
+   V THE THUNDERCLAP                 164
+
+  VI THE BUTTE-AUX-LOUPS             177
+
+ VII MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION          195
+
+VIII THE STAGES TO CALVARY           208
+
+
+PART III
+
+   I THE ARMED VIGIL                 233
+
+  II THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH      249
+
+ III IDEAS AND FACTS                 268
+
+  IV THE SACRED SOIL                 281
+
+
+
+
+THE FRONTIER
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A HEAD BETWEEN THE BUSHES
+
+
+"They've done it!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The German frontier-post ... at the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Knocked down."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"See for yourself."
+
+Old Morestal stepped aside. His wife came out of the drawing-room and
+went and stood by the telescope, on its tripod, at the end of the
+terrace.
+
+"I can see nothing," she said, presently.
+
+"Don't you see a tree standing out above the others, with lighter
+foliage?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And, to the right of that tree, a little lower down, an empty space
+surrounded by fir-trees?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups and it marks the frontier at
+that spot."
+
+"Ah, I've got it!... There it is!... You mean on the ground, don't you?
+Lying flat on the grass, exactly as if it had been rooted up by last
+night's storm...."
+
+"What are you talking about? It has been fairly felled with an axe: you
+can see the gash from here."
+
+"So I can ... so I can...."
+
+She stood up and shook her head:
+
+"That makes the third time this year.... It will mean more
+unpleasantness."
+
+"Fiddle-de-dee!" he exclaimed. "All they've got to do is to put up a
+solid post, instead of their old bit of wood." And he added, in a tone
+of pride, "The French post, two yards off, doesn't budge, you know!"
+
+"Well, of course not! It's made of cast-iron and cemented into the
+stone."
+
+"Let them do as much then! It's not money they're wanting ... when you
+think of the five thousand millions they robbed us of!... No, but, I say
+... three of them in eight months!... How will the people take it, on
+the other side of the Vosges?"
+
+He could not hide the sort of gay and sarcastic feeling of content that
+filled his whole being and he walked up and down the terrace, stamping
+his feet as hard as he could on the ground.
+
+But, suddenly going to his wife, he seized her by the arm and said, in
+a hollow voice:
+
+"Would you like to know what I really think?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, all this will lead to trouble."
+
+"No," said the old lady, quietly.
+
+"How do you mean, no?"
+
+"We've been married five-and-thirty years; and, for five-and-thirty
+years, you've told me, week after week, that we shall have trouble. So,
+you see...."
+
+She turned away from him and went back to the drawing-room again, where
+she began to dust the furniture with a feather-broom.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, as he followed her indoors:
+
+"Oh, yes, you're the placid mother, of course! Nothing excites you. As
+long as your cupboards are tidy, your linen all complete and your jams
+potted, you don't care!... Still, you ought not to forget that they
+killed your poor father."
+
+"I don't forget it ... only, what's the good? It's more than forty years
+ago...."
+
+"It was yesterday," he said, sinking his voice, "yesterday, no longer
+ago than yesterday...."
+
+"Ah, there's the postman!" she said, hurrying to change the
+conversation.
+
+She heard a heavy footstep outside the windows opening on the garden.
+There was a rap at the knocker on the front-door. A minute later,
+Victor, the man-servant, brought in the letters.
+
+"Oh!" said Mme. Morestal. "A letter from the boy.... Open it, will you?
+I haven't my spectacles.... I expect it's to say that he will arrive
+this evening: he was to have left Paris this morning."
+
+"Not at all!" cried M. Morestal, glancing over the letter. "Philippe and
+his wife have taken their two boys to some friends at Versailles and
+started with the intention of sleeping last night at the Ballon de
+Colnard, seeing the sunrise and doing the rest of the journey on foot,
+with their knapsacks on their backs. They will be here by twelve."
+
+She at once lost her head:
+
+"And the storm! What about last night's storm?"
+
+"My son doesn't care about the storm! It won't be the first that the
+fellow's been through. It's eleven o'clock. He will be with us in an
+hour."
+
+"But that will never do! There's nothing ready for them!"
+
+She at once went to work, like the active little old woman that she was,
+a little too fat, a little tired, but wide-awake still and so
+methodical, so orderly in her ways that she never made a superfluous
+movement or one that was not calculated to bring her an immediate
+advantage.
+
+As for him, he resumed his walk between the terrace and the
+drawing-room. He strode with long, even steps, holding his body erect,
+his chest flung out and his hands in the pockets of his jacket, a
+blue-drill gardening-jacket, with the point of a pruning-shears and the
+stem of a pipe sticking out of it. He was tall and broad-shouldered; and
+his fresh-coloured face seemed young still, in spite of the fringe of
+white beard in which it was framed.
+
+"Ah," he exclaimed, "what a treat to set eyes upon our dear Philippe
+again! It must be three years since we saw him last. Yes, of course, not
+since his appointment as professor of history in Paris. By Jove, the
+chap has made his way in the world! What a time we shall give him during
+the fortnight that he's with us! Walking ... exercise.... He's all for
+the open-air life, like old Morestal!"
+
+He began to laugh:
+
+"Shall I tell you what would be the thing for him? Six months in camp
+between this and Berlin!"
+
+"I'm not afraid," she declared. "He's been through the Normal School.
+The professors keep to their garrisons in time of war."
+
+"What nonsense are you talking now?"
+
+"The school-master told me so."
+
+He gave a start:
+
+"What! Do you mean to say you still speak to that dastard?"
+
+"He's quite a decent man," she replied.
+
+"He! A decent man! With theories like his!"
+
+She hurried from the room, to escape the explosion. But Morestal was
+fairly started:
+
+"Yes, yes, theories! I insist upon the word: theories! As a
+district-councillor, as Mayor of Saint-�lophe, I have the right to be
+present at his lessons. Oh, you have no idea of his way of teaching the
+history of France!... In my time, the heroes were the Chevalier d'Assas,
+Bayard, La Tour d'Auvergne, all those beggars who shed lustre on our
+country. Nowadays, it's Mossieu �tienne Marcel, Mossieu Dolet.... Oh, a
+nice set of theories, theirs!"
+
+He barred the way to his wife, as she entered the room again, and roared
+in her face:
+
+"Do you know why Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo?"
+
+"I can't find that large breakfast-cup anywhere," said Mme. Morestal,
+engrossed in her occupation.
+
+"Well, just ask your school-master; he'll give you the latest up-to-date
+theories about Napoleon."
+
+"I put it down here, on this chest, with my own hand."
+
+"But there, they're doing all they can to distort the children's
+minds."
+
+"It spoils my set."
+
+"Oh, I swear to you, in the old days, we'd have ducked our school-master
+in the horse-pond, if he had dared.... But, by Jove, France had a place
+of her own in the world then! And such a place!
+
+... That was the time of Solferino!... Of Magenta!... We weren't
+satisfied with chucking down frontier-posts in those days: we crossed
+the frontiers ... and at the double, believe me...."
+
+He stopped, hesitating, pricking up his ears. Trumpet-blasts sounded in
+the distance, ringing from valley to valley, echoing and re-echoing
+against the obstacles formed by the great granite rocks and dying away
+to right and left, as though stifled by the shadow of the forests.
+
+He whispered, excitedly:
+
+"The French bugle...."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Yes, there are troops of Alpines manoeuvring ... a company from
+Noirmont.... Listen ... listen.... What gaiety!... What swagger!... I
+tell you, close to the frontier like this, it takes such an air...."
+
+She listened too, seized with the same excitement, and asked, anxiously:
+
+"Do you really think that war is possible?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, "I do."
+
+They were silent for a moment. And Morestal continued:
+
+"It's a presentiment with me.... We shall have it all over again, as in
+1870.... And, mark you, I hope that this time ..."
+
+She put down her breakfast-cup, which she had found in a cupboard, and,
+leaning on her husband's arm:
+
+"I say, the boy's coming ... with his wife. She's a dear girl and we're
+very fond of her.... I want the house to look nice for them, bright and
+full of flowers.... Go and pick the best you have in your garden."
+
+He smiled:
+
+"That's another way of saying that I'm boring you, eh? I can't help it.
+I shall be just the same to my dying day. The wound is too deep ever to
+heal."
+
+They looked at each other for a while with a great gentleness, like two
+old travelling-companions, who, from time to time, for no particular
+reason, stop, exchange glances or thoughts and then resume their
+journey.
+
+He asked:
+
+"Must I cut my roses? My Gloires de Dijon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Come along then! I'll be a hero!"
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Morestal, the son and grandson of well-to-do farmers, had increased his
+fathers' fortune tenfold by setting up a mechanical saw-yard at
+Saint-�lophe, the big neighbouring village. He was a plain, blunt man,
+as he himself used to say, "with no false bottom, nothing in my hands,
+nothing up my sleeves;" just a few moral ideas to guide his course
+through life, ideas as old and simple as could be. And those few ideas
+themselves were subject to a principle that governed his whole existence
+and ruled all his actions, the love of his country, which, in Morestal,
+stood for regret for the past, hatred of the present and, especially,
+the bitter recollection of defeat.
+
+Elected Mayor of Saint-�lophe and a district-councillor, he sold his
+works and built, within view of the frontier, on the site of a ruined
+mill, a large house designed after his own plans and constructed, so to
+speak, under his own eyes. The Morestals had lived here for the last ten
+years, with their two servants: Victor, a decent, stout, jolly-faced
+man, and Catherine, a Breton woman who had nursed Philippe as a baby.
+
+They saw but few people, outside a small number of friends, of whom the
+most frequent visitors were the special commissary of the government,
+Joranc�, and his daughter Suzanne.
+
+The Old Mill occupied the round summit of a hill with slopes shelving
+down in a series of fairly large gardens, which Morestal cultivated with
+genuine enthusiasm. The property was surrounded by a high wall, the top
+of which was finished off with an iron trellis bristling with spikes. A
+spring leapt from place to place and fell in cascades to the bottom of
+the rocks decked with wild flowers, moss, lichen and maiden-hair ferns.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Morestal picked a great armful of flowers, laid waste his rose-garden,
+sacrificed all the Gloires de Dijon of which he was so proud and
+returned to the drawing-room, where he himself arranged the bunches in
+large glass vases.
+
+The room, a sort of hall occupying the centre of the house, with beams
+of timber showing and a huge chimney covered with gleaming brasses, the
+room was bright and cheerful and open at both fronts: to the east, on
+the terrace, by a long bay; to the west, by two windows, on the garden,
+which it overlooked from the height of a first floor.
+
+The walls were covered with War Office maps, Home Office maps, district
+maps. There was an oak gun-rack with twelve rifles, all alike and of the
+latest pattern. Beside it, nailed flat to the wall and roughly stitched
+together, were three dirty, worn, tattered strips of bunting, blue,
+white and red.
+
+"They look very well: what do you say?" he asked, when he had finished
+arranging the flowers, as though his wife had been in the room. "And
+now, I think, a good pipe ..."
+
+He took out his tobacco-pouch and matches and, crossing the terrace,
+went and leant against the stone balustrade that edged it.
+
+Hills and valleys mingled in harmonious curves, all green, in places,
+with the glad green of the meadows, all dark, in others, with the
+melancholy green of the firs and larches.
+
+At thirty or forty feet below him ran the road that leads from
+Saint-�lophe up to the Old Mill. It skirted the walls and then dipped
+down again to the �tang-des-Moines, or Monks' Pool, of which it followed
+the left bank. Breaking off suddenly, it narrowed into a rugged path
+which could be seen in the distance, standing like a ladder against a
+rampart, and which plunged into a narrow pass between two mountains
+wilder in appearance and rougher in outline than the ordinary Vosges
+landscape. This was the Col du Diable, or Devil's Pass, situated at a
+distance of sixteen hundred yards from the Old Mill, on the same level.
+
+A few buildings clung to one of the sides of the pass: these belonged to
+Saboureux's Farm. From Saboureux's Farm to the Butte-aux-Loups, or
+Wolves' Knoll, which you saw on the left, you could make out or imagine
+the frontier by following a line of which Morestal knew every
+guiding-mark, every turn, every acclivity and every descent.
+
+"The frontier!" he muttered. "The frontier here ... at twenty-five miles
+from the Rhine ... the frontier in the very heart of France!"
+
+Every day and ten times a day, he tortured himself in this manner,
+gazing at that painful and relentless line; and, beyond it, through
+vistas which his imagination contrived as it were to carve out of the
+Vosges, he conjured up a vision of the German plain on the misty
+horizon.
+
+And this too he repeated to himself; and he did so this time as at every
+other time, with a bitterness which the years that passed did nothing to
+allay:
+
+"The German plain ... the German hills ... all that land of Alsace in
+which I used to wander as a boy.... The French Rhine, which was my river
+and the river of my fathers.... And now _Deutschland_ ... _Deutsches
+Rhein_...."
+
+A faint whistle made him start. He leant over towards the staircase that
+climbed the terrace, a staircase cut out of the rock, by which people
+coming from the side of the frontier often entered his grounds so as to
+avoid the bend of the road. There was nobody there nor anybody opposite,
+on the roadside slope all tangled with shrubs and ferns.
+
+And the sound was renewed, discreetly, stealthily, with the same
+modulations as before.
+
+"It's he ... it's he ..." thought M. Morestal, with an uncomfortable
+feeling of embarrassment.
+
+A head popped from between the bushes, a head in which all the bones
+stood out, joined by prominent muscles, which gave it the look of the
+head of an anatomical model. On the bridge of the nose, a pair of
+copper-rimmed spectacles. Across the face, like a gash, the toothless,
+grinning mouth.
+
+"You again, Dourlowski...."
+
+"Can I come?" asked the man.
+
+"No ... no ... you're mad...."
+
+"It's urgent."
+
+"Impossible.... And besides, you know, I don't want any more of it. I've
+told you so before...."
+
+But the man insisted:
+
+"It's for this evening, for to-night.... It's a soldier of the
+B�rsweilen garrison.... He says he's sick of wearing the German
+uniform."
+
+"A deserter.... I've had enough of them.... Shut up and clear out!"
+
+"Now don't be nasty, M. Morestal.... Just think it over.... Look here,
+let's meet at four o'clock, in the pass, near Saboureux's Farm ... like
+last time.... I shall expect you.... We'll have a talk ... and I shall
+be surprised if ..."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal.
+
+A voice cried from the drawing-room:
+
+"Here they come, sir, here they come!"
+
+It was the man-servant; and Mme. Morestal also ran out and said:
+
+"What are you doing here? Whom were you talking to?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"Why, I heard you!..."
+
+"No, I assure you...."
+
+"Well, I must have imagined it.... I say you were quite right. It's
+twelve o'clock and they are here, the two of them."
+
+"Philippe and Marthe?"
+
+"Yes, they are coming. They are close to the garden-entrance. Let's
+hurry down and meet them...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GIRL WITH THE BARE ARMS
+
+
+"He hasn't changed a bit.... His complexion is as fresh as ever.... The
+eyes are a little tired, perhaps ... but he's looking very well...."
+
+"When you've finished picking me to pieces, between you!" said Philippe,
+laughing. "What an inspection! Why don't you give my wife a kiss? That's
+more to the point!"
+
+Marthe flung herself into Mme. Morestal's arms and into her
+father-in-law's and was examined from head to foot in her turn.
+
+"I say, I say, we're thinner in the face than we were!... We want
+picking up.... But, my poor children, you're soaked to the skin!"
+
+"We were out all through the storm," said Philippe.
+
+"And what do you think happened to me?" asked Marthe. "I got
+frightened!... Yes, frightened, like a little girl ... and I fainted....
+And Philippe had to carry me ... for half an hour at least...."
+
+"What do you say to that?" said Morestal to his wife. "For half an
+hour! He's the same strong chap he was.... And why didn't you bring the
+boys? It's a pity. Two fine little fellows, I feel sure. And well
+brought up too: I know my Marthe!... How old are they now? Ten and nine,
+aren't they? By the way, mother got two rooms ready. Do you have
+separate rooms now?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Marthe, "only down here!... Philippe wants to get up
+before day-break and ramble about the roads ... whereas I need a little
+rest."
+
+"Capital! Capital! Show them to their rooms, mother ... and, when you're
+ready, children, come down to lunch. As soon as we've finished, I'll
+take the carriage and go and fetch your trunks at Saint-�lophe: the
+railway-omnibus will have brought them there by this time. And, if I
+meet my friend Joranc�, I'll bring him back with me. I expect he's in
+the dumps. His daughter left for Lun�ville this morning. But she said
+she had written to you...."
+
+"Yes," said Marthe, "I had a letter from Suzanne the other day. She
+didn't seem to like the idea, either, of going away...."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Two hours later, Philippe and his wife settled themselves in two pretty,
+adjoining bedrooms on the second floor, looking out on the French side.
+Marthe threw herself on her bed and fell asleep almost immediately,
+while her husband, with his elbows on the window-sill, sat gazing at the
+peaceful valley where the happiest days of his boyhood had been spent.
+
+It was over yonder, in the straggling village of Saint-�lophe-la-C�te,
+in the modest dwelling which his parents occupied before they moved to
+the Old Mill. He was at the boarding-school at Noirmont and used to have
+glorious holidays playing in the village or roaming about the Vosges
+with his father: Papa Trompette, as he always called him, because of all
+the trumpets, bugles, horns and cornets which, together with drums of
+every shape and kind, swords and dirks, helmets and breast-plates, guns
+and pistols, were the only presents that his childhood knew. Morestal
+was a little strict; a little too fond of everything that had to do with
+principle, custom, discipline, exactness; a little quick-tempered; but,
+at the same time, he was the kindest of men and had no difficulty in
+winning his son's love, his frank and affectionate respect.
+
+Their only quarrel was on the day when Philippe, who was then in the top
+form, announced his intention of continuing his studies after he had
+passed his examination and of entering the Normal School. The father's
+whole dream was shattered, his great dream of seeing Philippe in
+uniform, with his sword at his side and the gold braid on the sleeve of
+his loose jacket.
+
+It came as a violent and painful shock; and Morestal was stupefied to
+find himself faced by an obstinate, deliberate Philippe, a Philippe
+wholly master of himself and firmly resolved to lead his life according
+to his own views and his own ambitions. For a week on end, the two
+argued, hurt each other's feelings, made it up again, only to fall out
+once more. Then the father suddenly yielded, in the middle of a
+discussion and as though he had all at once realized the futility of his
+efforts:
+
+"You have made up your mind?" he cried. "Very well! An usher you shall
+be, since that is your ideal; but I warn you that I decline all
+responsibility for the future and that I wash my hands of anything that
+happens."
+
+What happened was simply that Philippe's career was swift and brilliant
+and that, after a probationary term at Lun�ville and another at
+Ch�teauroux, he was appointed professor of history at Versailles. He
+then published, at a few months' interval, two remarkable books, which
+caused much heated controversy: _The Idea of Country in Ancient Greece_
+and _The Idea of Country before the Revolution_. Three years later, he
+was promoted to Paris, to the Lyc�e Carnot.
+
+Philippe was now approaching his fortieth year. Day-work and night-work
+seemed to have no effect upon his sturdy highland constitution.
+Possessing a set of powerful muscles and built on the same strong lines
+as his father, he found rest and recreation from study in violent
+exercise, in long bicycle-rides into the country or through the woods on
+the outskirts of Paris. The boys at the school, who held him in a sort
+of veneration, told stories of his exploits and his feats of strength.
+
+With all this, a great look of gentleness, especially about the eyes, a
+pair of very good, blue eyes, which smiled when he spoke and which, when
+at rest, were candid, childish almost, filled with dreams and kindness.
+
+By this time, old Morestal was proud of his son. On the day when he
+heard of his nomination to Carnot, he wrote, frankly:
+
+
+     "Well done, my dear Philippe! So you're prospering now and in a
+     fair way to obtain anything you like to ask for. Let me tell you
+     that I am not in the least surprised, for I always expected that,
+     with your great qualities, your perseverance and your serious way
+     of looking at life, you would win the place which you deserved. So,
+     once more, well done!
+
+     "I confess, however, that your last book, on the idea of country
+     in France, puzzled me not a little. I know, of course, that you
+     will not change your opinions on this subject; but it seems to me
+     that you are trying to explain the idea of patriotism as due to
+     rather inferior motives and that this idea strikes you not as
+     natural and inherent to human societies, but as though it were a
+     momentary and passing phase of civilization. No doubt I have
+     misunderstood you. Still, your book is not very clear. You almost
+     appear to be hesitating. I shall look forward eagerly to the new
+     work, on the idea of country in our own times and in the future,
+     which I see that you are announcing...."
+
+
+The book to which Morestal alluded had been finished for over a year,
+during which Philippe, for reasons which he kept to himself, refused to
+deliver the manuscript to his publishers.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+"Are you glad to be here?"
+
+Marthe had come up and folded her two hands over his arm.
+
+"Very," he said. "And I should be still more pleased if I had not that
+explanation with my father before me ... the explanation which I came
+down here to have."
+
+"It will be all right, my own Philippe. Your father is so fond of you.
+And then you are so sincere!..."
+
+"My dear Marthe," he said, kissing her affectionately on the forehead.
+
+He had first met her at Lun�ville, through M. Joranc�, who was her
+distant cousin; and he had at once felt that she was the ideal companion
+of his life, who would stand by him in hours of trouble, who would bear
+him comely children, who would understand how to bring them up and how,
+with his assistance and with his principles, to make sturdy men of them,
+worthy to bear his name.
+
+Perhaps Marthe would have liked something more; perhaps, as a girl, she
+had dreamt that a married woman is not merely the wife and mother, but
+also her husband's lover. But she soon saw that love went for little
+with Philippe, a studious man, much more interested in mental
+speculation and social problems than in any manifestation of sentimental
+feeling. She therefore loved him as he wished to be loved, stifling
+within herself, like smothered flames, a whole throbbing passion made up
+of unsatisfied longings, restrained ardours and needless jealousies and
+allowing only just so much of this to escape her as was needed to give
+him fresh courage at times of doubt and defeat.
+
+Short, slender and of delicate build, she was plucky, hardened to
+trouble, fearless in the face of obstacles, proof against disappointment
+after a check. Her bright, dark eyes betokened her energy. In spite of
+all the influence which Philippe wielded over her, in spite of the
+admiration with which he inspired her, she retained her personality, her
+own standpoint towards life, her likes and dislikes. And, to such a man
+as Philippe, nothing could be more precious.
+
+"Won't you try and sleep a little?" she asked.
+
+"No. I am going down to him."
+
+"To your father?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, I don't want to put it off any longer. As it is, I have almost
+done wrong in coming here and embracing him without first letting him
+know the exact truth about me."
+
+They were silent for a while. Philippe seemed undecided and worried.
+
+He said to her:
+
+"Don't you agree with me? Or do you think I ought to wait till
+to-morrow?..."
+
+She opened the door for him to pass:
+
+"No," she said, "you are right."
+
+She often had those unexpected movements which cut short hesitation and
+put you face to face with events. Another would have launched out into
+words. But Marthe never shirked responsibility, even where it concerned
+but the smallest facts of ordinary life. Philippe used to laugh and
+call it her daily heroism.
+
+He kissed her and felt strengthened by her confidence.
+
+Downstairs, he was told that his father was not yet back and he resolved
+to wait for him in the drawing-room. He lit a cigarette, let it go out
+again and, at first in a spirit of distraction and then with a growing
+interest, looked around him, as though he were trying to gather from
+inanimate objects particulars relating to the man who lived in their
+midst.
+
+He examined the rack containing the twelve rifles. They were all loaded,
+ready for service. Against what foe?
+
+He saw the flag which he had so often gazed upon in the old house at
+Saint-�lophe, the old, torn flag whose glorious history he knew so well.
+
+He saw the maps hanging on the wall, all of which traced the frontier in
+its smallest details, together with the country adjoining it on either
+side of the Vosges.
+
+He bent over the shelves of the little book-case and read the titles of
+the works: _The War of 1870, prepared in the historical section of the
+German General Staff_; _The Retreat of Bourbaki_; _The Way to prepare
+our Revenge_; _The Crime of the Peace-at-any-Price Party_....
+
+But one volume caught his attention more particularly. It was his own
+book on the idea of country. He turned the pages and, seeing that some
+of them were covered and scored with pencil-marks, he sat down and began
+to read:
+
+"It's as I thought," he muttered, presently. "How are he and I to
+understand each other henceforth? What common ground is there between
+us? I cannot expect him to accept my ideas. And how can I submit to
+his?"
+
+He went on reading and noticed comments the harshness of which
+distressed him beyond measure. Twenty minutes passed in this way,
+disturbed by no sound but that of the leaves which he turned as he read.
+
+And, suddenly, he felt two bare arms round his head, two cool, bare arms
+stroking his face. He tried to release himself. The two arms clasped him
+all the tighter.
+
+He made an abrupt effort and rose to his feet:
+
+"You!" he cried, stepping back. "You here, Suzanne!"
+
+A most attractive creature stood before him, at once smiling and
+bashful, in an attitude of provocation and fear, with hands clasped,
+then with arms again outstretched, beautiful, white, fragrant arms that
+showed below the short sleeves of her fine cambric blouse. Her fair hair
+was divided into two loose waves, whose rebellious curls played about
+at random. She had grey, almond-shaped eyes, half-veiled by their dark
+lashes; and her tiny teeth laughed at the edge of her red lips, lips so
+red that one would have thought--and been quite wrong in thinking--that
+they were painted.
+
+It was Suzanne Joranc�, the daughter of Joranc� the special commissary
+and a friend of Marthe, who knew her when she was quite a child at
+Lun�ville. Suzanne had spent four months, last winter, in Paris with the
+Philippe Morestals.
+
+"You!" he repeated. "You, Suzanne!"
+
+She replied, gaily:
+
+"Myself. Your father came to call on us at Saint-�lophe. And, as mine
+was out for a walk, he brought me back with him. I have just got out of
+the carriage. And here I am."
+
+He seized her by the wrists, in a fit of anger, and, in a hollow voice:
+
+"You had no business to be at Saint-�lophe. You wrote to Marthe that you
+were going away this morning. You ought not to have stayed. You know
+quite well that you ought not to have stayed."
+
+"Why?" she asked, quite confused.
+
+"Why? Because, at the end of your visit to Paris, you spoke to me in
+words which I was entitled to interpret ... which I took to mean ...
+And I would not have come, if you had not written that you were...."
+
+He broke off, embarrassed by the violence of his own outburst. The tears
+stood in Suzanne's eyes and her face had flushed so deep a red that her
+crimson lips seemed hardly red at all.
+
+Petrified by the words which he had uttered and still more by those
+which he had been on the verge of uttering, Philippe suddenly, in the
+girl's presence, felt a need to be gentle and friendly and to make
+amends for his inexplicable rudeness. An unexpected sense of pity
+softened him. He took the small, ice-cold hands between his own and
+said, kindly, with the intonation of a big brother scolding a younger
+sister:
+
+"Why did you stay, Suzanne?"
+
+"May I tell you, Philippe?"
+
+"Certainly, or I shouldn't ask you," he replied, a little nervously.
+
+"I wanted to see you, Philippe.... When I knew that you were coming ...
+and that, by delaying my departure by one day ... just one day.... You
+understand, don't you?..."
+
+He was silent, rightly thinking that, if he answered the least word, she
+would at once say something that he did not want to hear. And they no
+longer knew how to stand opposite each other and they no longer dared
+look each other in the face. But Philippe felt those small hands turn
+warm at the touch of his and felt all the life rush once more through
+that turbulent young being, like a source that is released and brings
+back joy and strength and hope.
+
+Steps were heard and a sound of voices rose in the hall outside.
+
+"M. Morestal," Suzanne whispered.
+
+And old Morestal shouted, long before entering the room:
+
+"Where are you, Suzanne? Here's your father coming. Quick, Joranc�, the
+children are here. Yes, yes, your daughter, too.... I brought her back
+with me from Saint-�lophe.... But how did you come? Through the woods?"
+
+Suzanne slipped on a pair of long su�de gloves and, at the moment when
+the door opened, said, in a tone of implacable resolve and as though the
+promise must needs fill Philippe's heart with delight:
+
+"No one shall ever see my bare arms again.... No one, Philippe, I swear
+to you.... No one shall ever stroke them...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE VIOLET PAMPHLET
+
+
+Joranc� was a heavy and rather unwieldy, pleasant-faced man. Twenty-five
+years before, when secretary to the commissary at Noirmont, he had
+married a girl of entrancing beauty, who used to teach the piano in a
+boarding-school. One evening, after four years of marriage, four years
+of torture, during which the unhappy man suffered every sort of
+humiliation, Joranc� came home to find the house empty. His wife had
+gone without a word of explanation, taking their little girl, Suzanne,
+with her.
+
+The only thing that kept him from suicide was the hope of recovering the
+child and saving her from the life which her mother's example would have
+forced upon her in the future.
+
+He did not have to look for her long. A month later, his wife sent back
+the child, who was no doubt in her way. But the wound had cut deep and
+lingered; and neither time nor the love which he bore his daughter could
+wipe out the memory of that cruel story.
+
+He buckled to his work, accepted the most burdensome tasks so as to
+increase his income and give Suzanne a good education, was transferred
+to the commissary's office at Lun�ville and, somewhat late in life, was
+promoted to be special commissary at the frontier. The position involved
+the delicate functions of a sentry on outpost duty whose business it is
+to see as much as possible of what goes on in the neighbour's country;
+and Joranc� filled it so conscientiously, tactfully and skilfully that
+the neighbour aforesaid, while dreading his shrewdness and insight,
+respected his character and his professional qualities.
+
+At Saint-�lophe, he renewed his intimacy with old Morestal, who was his
+grand-uncle by marriage and who was very much attached to him.
+
+The two men saw each other almost every day. Joranc� and Suzanne used to
+dine at the Old Mill on Thursdays and Sundays. Suzanne would also often
+come alone and accompany the old man on his daily walk. He took a great
+fancy to her; and it was upon his advice and at the urgent request of
+Philippe and Marthe Morestal that Joranc� had taken Suzanne to Paris the
+previous winter.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+His first words on entering the room were to thank Philippe:
+
+"You can't think, my dear Philippe, how glad I was to leave her with
+you. Suzanne is young. And I approve of a little distraction."
+
+He looked at Suzanne with the fervent glance of a father who has brought
+up his daughter himself and whose love for her is mingled with a touch
+of feminine affection.
+
+And he said to Philippe:
+
+"Have you heard the news? I am marrying her."
+
+"Really?" said Philippe.
+
+"Yes, to one of my cousins at Nancy, a man rather well-on in years,
+perhaps, but a serious, active and intelligent fellow. Suzanne likes him
+very much. You do like him very much, don't you, Suzanne?"
+
+The girl seemed not to hear the question and asked:
+
+"Is Marthe in her room, Philippe?"
+
+"Yes, on the second floor."
+
+"I know, the blue room. I was here yesterday, helping Mme. Morestal. I
+must run up and give her a kiss."
+
+She turned round in the doorway and kissed her hand to the three men,
+keeping her eyes fixed on Philippe.
+
+"How pretty and charming your daughter is!" said Morestal to Joranc�.
+
+But they could see that he was thinking of something else and that he
+was eager to change the conversation. He shut the door quickly and,
+returning to the special commissary, said:
+
+"Did you come by the frontier-road?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you haven't been told yet?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The German post ... at the Butte-aux-Loups...."
+
+"Knocked down?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, by Jove!"
+
+Morestal stopped to enjoy the effect which he had produced and then
+continued:
+
+"What do you say to it?"
+
+"I say ... I say that it's most annoying.... They're in a very bad
+temper as it is, on the other side. This means trouble for me."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, of course. Haven't you heard that they're beginning to accuse me
+of encouraging the German deserters?"
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"I tell you, they are. It seems that there's a secret desertion-office
+in these parts. I'm supposed to be at the head of it. And you, you are
+the heart and soul of it."
+
+"Oh, they can't stand me at any price!"
+
+"Nor me either. Weisslicht, the German commissary at B�rsweilen, has
+sworn a mortal hatred against me. We cut each other now when we meet.
+There's not a doubt but that he is responsible for the calumnies."
+
+"But what proofs do they put forward?"
+
+"Any number ... all equally bad.... Among others, this: pieces of French
+gold which are said to have been found on their soldiers. So you see ...
+with the post tumbling down once more, the explanations that are certain
+to begin all over again, the enquiries that are certain to be
+opened...."
+
+Philippe went up to him:
+
+"Come, come, I don't suppose it's so serious as all that."
+
+"You think not, my boy? Then you haven't seen the stop-press telegrams
+in this morning's papers?"
+
+"No," said Philippe and his father. "What's the news?"
+
+"An incident in Asia Minor. A quarrel between the French and German
+officials. One of the consuls has been killed."
+
+"Oh, oh!" said Morestal. "This time ..."
+
+And Joranc� went into details:
+
+"Yes, the position is exceedingly strained. The Morocco question has
+been opened again. Then there's the espionage business and the story of
+the French air-men flying over the fortresses in Alsace and dropping
+tricolour flags in the Strasburg streets.... For six months, it has been
+one long series of complications and shocks. The newspapers are becoming
+aggressive in their language. Both countries are arming, strengthening
+their defences. In short, in spite of the good intentions of the two
+governments, we are at the mercy of an accident. A spark ... and the
+thing's done."
+
+A heavy silence weighed upon the three men. Each of them conjured up the
+sinister vision according to his own temperament and instincts.
+
+Joranc� repeated:
+
+"A spark ... and the thing's done."
+
+"Well, let it be done!" said Morestal, with an angry gesture.
+
+Philippe gave a start:
+
+"What are you saying, father?"
+
+"Well, what! There must be an end to all this."
+
+"But the end need not be in blood."
+
+"Nonsense ... nonsense.... There are injuries that can only be wiped out
+in blood. And, when a great country like ours has received a slap in the
+face like that of 1870, it can wait forty years, fifty years, but a day
+comes when it returns the slap in the face ... and with both hands!"
+
+"And suppose we are beaten?" said Philippe.
+
+"Can't be helped! Honour comes first! Besides, we sha'n't be beaten.
+Let every man do his duty and we shall see! In 1870, as a prisoner of
+war, I gave my word not to serve in the French army again. I escaped, I
+collected the young rapscallions of Saint-�lophe and round about, the
+old men, the cripples, the women even.... We took to the woods. Three
+rags served as a rallying-signal: a bit of white linen, a strip of red
+flannel and a piece out of a blue apron ... the flag of the band! There
+it hangs.... It shall see the light of day again, if necessary."
+
+Joranc� could not help laughing:
+
+"Do you think that will stop the Prussians?"
+
+"Don't laugh, my friend.... You know the view I take of my duty and what
+I am doing. But it is just as well that Philippe should know, too. Sit
+down, my boy."
+
+He himself sat down, put aside the pipe which he was smoking and began,
+with the obvious satisfaction of a man who is at last able to speak of
+what he has most at heart:
+
+"You know the frontier, Philippe, or rather the German side of the
+frontier?... A craggy cliff, a series of peaks and ravines which make
+this part of the Vosges an insuperable rampart...."
+
+"Yes, absolutely insuperable," said Philippe.
+
+"That's a mistake!" exclaimed Morestal. "A fatal mistake! From the
+first moment when I began to think of these matters, I believed that a
+day would come when the enemy would attack that rampart."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"That day has come, Philippe. For the last six months, not a week has
+passed without my meeting some suspicious figure over there or knocking
+up against men walking about in smocks that were hardly enough to
+conceal their uniform.... It is a constant, progressive underhand work.
+Everybody is helping in it. The electric factory which the Wildermann
+firm has run up in that ridiculous fashion on the edge of the precipice
+is only a make-believe. The road that leads to it is a military road.
+From the factory to the Col du Diable is less than half a mile. One
+effort and the frontier's crossed."
+
+"By a company," objected Joranc�.
+
+"Where a company passes, a regiment can pass and a brigade can
+follow.... At B�rsweilen, five miles from the Vosges, there are three
+thousand German soldiers: on a war-footing, mark you. At Gernach, twelve
+miles further, there are twelve thousand; and four thousand horses; and
+eight hundred waggons. By the evening of the day on which war is
+declared, perhaps even earlier, those fifteen thousand men will have
+crossed the Col du Diable. It's not a surprise which they mean to
+attempt: that wouldn't be worth their while. It is the absolute
+crossing of the frontier, the taking possession of our ridges, the
+occupation of Saint-�lophe. When our troops arrive, it will be too late!
+They will find Noirmont cut off, Belfort threatened, the south of the
+Vosges invaded.... You can picture the moral effect: we shall be done
+for! That is what is being prepared in the dark. That is what you have
+been unable to see, Joranc�, in spite of all your watchfulness ... and
+in spite of my warnings."
+
+"I wrote to the prefect last week."
+
+"You should have written last year! All this time, the other has been
+coming on, the other has been advancing.... He hardly takes the trouble
+to conceal himself.... There ... listen to him ... listen to him...."
+
+In the far distance, like the sound of an echo, deadened by the mass of
+trees, a bugle-call had rung out, somewhere, through the air. It was an
+indistinct call, but Morestal was not mistaken and he hissed:
+
+"Ah, it's he!... It's he.... I know the voice of Germany.... I know it
+when I hear it ... the hoarse, the odious voice!..."
+
+Presently, Philippe, who had not taken his eyes off his father, said:
+
+"And then, father?"
+
+"And then, my son, it was in anticipation of that day that I built my
+house on this hill, that I surrounded my gardens with a wall, that,
+unknown to anybody, I stocked the out-houses with means of defence:
+ammunition, bags of sand, gun-powder ... that, in short, I prepared for
+an alarm by setting up this unsuspected little fortress at twenty
+minutes from the Col du Diable ... on the very threshold of the
+frontier!"
+
+He had planted himself with his face to the east, with his face to the
+enemy; and, clutching his hips with his clenched hands, in an attitude
+of defiance, he seemed to be awaiting the inevitable assault.
+
+The special commissary, who still feared that his zeal had been caught
+napping in this business, growled:
+
+"Your shanty won't hold out for an hour."
+
+"And who tells you," shouted Morestal, "who tells you that that hour is
+not exactly the one hour which we shall want to gain?... An hour! You
+never spoke a truer word: an hour of resistance to the first attack! An
+hour of delay!... That's what I wanted, that's what I offer to my
+country. Let every one be doing as I am, to the best of his power, let
+every one be haunted to fever-point by the obsession of the personal
+service which it is his duty to render to the country; and, if war
+breaks out, you shall see how a great nation can take its revenge!"
+
+"And suppose we are beaten, in spite of all?" Philippe asked again.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+Old Morestal turned to his son as though he had received a blow; and a
+rush of blood inflamed his features. He looked Philippe in the face:
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+Philippe had an inkling of the conflict that would hurl them one against
+the other if he dared to state his objections more minutely. And he
+uttered words at random:
+
+"Of course, the supposition is not one of those which we can
+entertain.... But, all the same ... don't you think we ought to face the
+possibility?..."
+
+"Face the possibility of defeat?" echoed the old man, who seemed
+thunderstruck. "Are you suggesting that the fear of that ought to
+influence France in her conduct?"
+
+A diversion relieved Philippe of his difficulty. Some one had appeared
+from the staircase at the end of the terrace and in so noisy a fashion
+that Morestal did not wait for his son to reply:
+
+"Is that you, Saboureux? What a row you're making!"
+
+It was Farmer Saboureux, whose house could be seen on the Col du Diable.
+He was accompanied by an old, ragged tramp.
+
+Saboureux had come to complain. Some soldiers taking part in the
+manoeuvres had helped themselves to two of his chickens and a duck. He
+seemed beside himself, furious at the catastrophe:
+
+"Only, I've a witness in old Poussi�re here. And I want an indemnity,
+not to speak of damages and punishment. I call it a calamity, I do:
+soldiers of our own country!... I'm a good Frenchman, but, all the same
+..."
+
+Morestal was too much absorbed in the discussion of his favourite ideas
+to take the least interest in the man's troubles; and the farmer's
+presence, on the contrary, seemed to him an excellent reason for
+returning to the subject in hand. They had other things to talk about
+than chickens and ducks! What about the chances of war? And the alarming
+rumours that were current?
+
+"What do you say, Saboureux?"
+
+The farmer presented the typical appearance of those peasants whom we
+sometimes find in the eastern provinces and who, with their stern,
+clean-shaven faces, like the faces on ancient medals, remind us of our
+Roman ancestors rather than of the Gauls or Francs. He had marched to
+battle in 1870 with the others, perishing with hunger and wretchedness,
+risking his skin. And, on his return, he had found his shanty reduced to
+ashes. Some passing Uhlans.... Since that time, he had laboured hard to
+repair the harm done.
+
+"And you want it all over again?" he said. "More Uhlans burning and
+sacking?... Oh, no, I've had enough of that game! You just let me be as
+I am!"
+
+He was filled with the small land-owner's hatred against all those,
+Frenchmen or others, who were likely to tread with a sacrilegious foot
+on the sown earth, where the harvest is so slow in coming. He crossed
+his arms, with a serious air.
+
+"And you, Poussi�re, what would you say if we went to war?" asked
+Morestal, calling to the old tramp, who was sitting on the parapet of
+the terrace, breaking a crust.
+
+The man was lean and wizened, twisted like a vine-shoot, with long,
+dust-coloured hair and a melancholy, impassive face that seemed carved
+out of old oak. He put in an appearance at Saint-�lophe once every three
+or four months. He knocked at the doors of the houses and then went off
+again.
+
+"What country do you belong to, to begin with?"
+
+He grunted:
+
+"Don't know much about it ... it's so long ago...."
+
+"Which do you like best? France, eh? The roads on this side?"
+
+The old chap swung his legs without answering, perhaps without
+understanding. Saboureux grinned:
+
+"He doesn't look at the roads, not he! He doesn't as much as know if he
+belongs to the country on the right or on the left! His country lies
+where the grub lies ... eh, Poussi�re?"
+
+Thereupon, seized with sudden ill-humour, Morestal lost his temper and
+let fly at the lukewarm, at the indifferent--working-men, townsmen or
+farmers--who think only of their comfort, without caring whether the
+country is humiliated or victorious. But what else could one expect,
+with the detestable ideas spread by some of the newspapers and carried
+to the furthermost ends of the country in the books and pamphlets hawked
+about by travelling agents?
+
+"Yes," he cried, "the new ideas: those are the evil that is destroying
+us. The school-masters are poisoning the minds of the young. The very
+army is smitten with the canker. Whole regiments are on the verge of
+mutiny...."
+
+He turned a questioning glance upon Philippe, who, from time to time,
+nodded his head without replying, with a movement which his father might
+take for one of approval.
+
+"Isn't it so, Philippe? You see the thing close at hand, where you are:
+all those poltroons who weaken our energies with their fine dreams of
+peace at any price! You hear them, all the wind-bags at the public
+meetings, who preach their loathsome crusade against the army and the
+country with open doors and are backed up by our rulers.... And that's
+only speaking of the capital!... Why, the very provinces haven't escaped
+the contagion!... Here, have you read this abomination?"
+
+He took a little volume in a violet wrapper from among the papers heaped
+up on his table and held it before his son's eyes. And he continued:
+
+"_Peace before All!_ No author's name. A book that's all the more
+dangerous because it's very well written, not by one of those wind-bags
+to whom I was referring just now, but by a scholar, a provincial and,
+what's more, a Frenchman from the frontier. He seems even to bear our
+name ... some distant cousin, no doubt: the Morestals are a large
+family."
+
+"Are you sure?" blurted Philippe, who had turned pale at the sight of
+the pamphlet. "How do you know?"
+
+"Oh, by accident.... A letter which was addressed to me and which said,
+'All good wishes for the success of your pamphlet, my dear Morestal.'"
+
+Philippe remembered. He was to have gone to the Old Mill last year; and
+the letter must have been sent to him by one of his friends.
+
+"And haven't you tried to find out?"
+
+"What for? Because I have a scoundrel in my family, that's no reason
+why I should be in a hurry to make his acquaintance! Besides, he himself
+has had the decency not to put his name to his scurrilous nonsense....
+No matter: if ever I lay my hands on him!... But don't let's talk of
+it...."
+
+He continued to talk of it, nevertheless, and at great length, as well
+as of all the questions of war and peace, history and politics that came
+to his mind. It was not until he had "got his budget off his chest," as
+he said, that he exclaimed, suddenly:
+
+"Enough of this palavering, my friends! Why, it's four o'clock!
+Saboureux, I'm your man.... So they've been making free with your
+poultry, have they? Are you coming, Joranc�? We'll see some fine
+soldier-chaps making their soup. There's nothing jollier and livelier
+than a French camp!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE
+
+
+Marthe and Suzanne were very intimate, in spite of the difference in
+their ages. Marthe was full of indulgent kindness for her friend, whom
+she had known as quite a child, motherless and left to herself; whereas
+Suzanne was less even-tempered with Marthe, now gushing and coaxing, now
+aggressive and satirical, but always full of charm.
+
+When Marthe had finished unfastening the trunks, Suzanne herself
+insisted on emptying the travelling-bag and arranging on the table all
+the little things with which one tries, when away, to give one's room a
+look of home: portraits of the children, writing-cases, favourite
+books....
+
+"You'll be very snug here, Marthe," she said. "It's a nice, light room
+... and there's only a dressing-room between you and Philippe.... But
+how did you come to want two bedrooms?"
+
+"It was Philippe. He was afraid of disturbing me in the mornings...."
+
+"Oh," repeated the girl. "It was Philippe's suggestion...."
+
+Then she took up one of the photographs and examined it:
+
+"How like his father your son Jacques is!... Much more so than Paul ...
+don't you think?"
+
+Marthe came to the table and, bending over her friend, looked at the
+picture with those mother's eyes which seem to see in the inanimate
+image the life, the smile and the beauty of the absent one.
+
+"Which do you like best, Jacques or Paul?" asked Suzanne.
+
+"What a question! If you were a mother...."
+
+"If I were a mother, I should like that one best who reminded me most of
+my husband. The other would make me suspect that my husband had ceased
+to love me...."
+
+"You put down everything to love, my poor Suzanne! Do you imagine that
+there is nothing in the world but love?"
+
+"There are heaps of other things. But you yourself, Marthe: wouldn't you
+like love to fill a greater place in your life?"
+
+This was said with a certain sarcasm, of which Marthe felt the sting.
+But, before she had time to retort, Philippe appeared in the doorway.
+
+Suzanne at once cried:
+
+"We were talking about you, Philippe."
+
+He made no reply. He went to the window, closed it and then came back to
+the two young women. Suzanne pointed to a chair beside her, but he sat
+down by Marthe; and Marthe saw by his look that something had happened:
+
+"Have you spoken to him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Still ..."
+
+He told her, in a few sentences, of the conversation, with the incident
+of the pamphlet and the words which his father had spoken against the
+author of that work. He repeated the words, a second time, with
+increasing bitterness. Then he stopped, reflected and, pressing his
+clenched fists to his temples, said, slowly, as though he were
+explaining matters to himself:
+
+"It's three years now that this has lasted ... ever since his letter on
+my appointment, in which he wrote about my second book on the idea of
+country. Perhaps I ought to have written to him then and there and told
+him of the evolution of my mind and the tremendous change which the
+study of history and of vanished civilizations had wrought in me."
+
+"Perhaps it would have been better," said Marthe.
+
+"I was afraid to. I was afraid of hurting him.... It would have hurt him
+so terribly!... And my love for him is so great!... And then, Marthe,
+you see, the ideas which he defends and of which, in my eyes, he is the
+living and splendid incarnation are so beautiful in themselves that,
+after one has ceased to share them, one continues, for a long time, for
+always, to retain a sort of involuntary affection for them, deep down in
+one's inner self. They constituted the greatness of our country for
+centuries. They are vigorous, like everything that is religious and
+pure. One feels a renegade at losing them; and any word spoken against
+them sounds like blasphemy. How could I say to my father, 'Those ideas,
+which you gave me and which were the life of my youth, I have ceased to
+hold. Yes, I have ceased to think as you do. My love of humanity does
+not stop at the boundaries of the country in which I was born; and I do
+not hate those who are on the other side of the frontier. I am one of
+those men who will not have war, who will not have it at any price and
+who would give their life-blood to save the world the horror of that
+scourge.' How could I say such things as that to my father?"
+
+He rose and, pacing the room, continued:
+
+"I did not say them. I concealed the true state of my mind, as though I
+were hiding a shameful sore. At the meetings, in the newspapers to which
+I contribute by stealth, to my adversaries and to the majority of the
+men on my own side I was M. Philippe, denying my name and my
+personality, setting a bad example to those who are silent for
+prudence' sake and for fear of compromising themselves. I do not sign
+the pamphlets which I write; and the book in which I give the conclusion
+of my work has been ready for more than a year, without my daring to
+publish it. Well, that's over now. I can't go on as I have been doing.
+Silence is choking me. By humbling myself, I lower my ideals. I must
+speak aloud, in the hearing of all men. I will speak."
+
+He had gradually become animated, excited by his own words. His voice
+had increased in volume. His face expressed the glowing, irresistible,
+often blind enthusiasm of those who devote themselves to generous
+causes. And, yielding to a need to speak out which was anything but
+frequent with him, he went on:
+
+"You don't know, you don't know what it means to a man to be fired with
+a great idea ... whether it be love of humanity, hatred of war or any
+other beautiful illusion. It lights us and leads us. It is our pride and
+our faith. We seem to have a second life, the real life, that belongs to
+it, and an unknown heart that beats for it alone. And we are prepared to
+suffer any sacrifice, any pain, any wretchedness, any insult ...
+provided that it gain the day."
+
+Suzanne listened to him with obvious admiration. Marthe appeared
+uneasy. Knowing Philippe's nature thoroughly, she was well aware that,
+in thus letting himself go, he was not only being carried away by a
+flood of eloquent words.
+
+He opened the window and drew a deep breath of the pure air which he
+loved. Then he returned and added:
+
+"We are even prepared to sacrifice those around us."
+
+Marthe felt all the importance which he attached to this little
+sentence; and, after a moment, she said:
+
+"Are you referring to me?"
+
+"Yes," said Philippe.
+
+"But you know, Philippe, that, when I agreed to marry you, I agreed to
+share your life, whatever it might be."
+
+"My life as it looked like being, but not as I shall be compelled to
+make it."
+
+She looked at him with a glimmer of apprehension. For some time now, she
+had noticed that he was even less communicative than usual, that he
+hardly ever spoke of his plans and that he no longer told her what he
+was working at.
+
+"How do you mean, Philippe?" she asked.
+
+He took a sealed letter from his pocket and showed her the address:
+
+"_To the Minister of Public Instruction._"
+
+"What is in that letter?" asked Marthe.
+
+"My resignation."
+
+"Your resignation! The resignation of your professorship?"
+
+"Yes. I shall send this letter the moment I have confessed everything to
+my father. I did not like to tell you before, for fear of your
+objections.... But I was wrong.... It is necessary that you should
+know...."
+
+"I don't understand," she stammered. "I don't understand...."
+
+"Yes, you do, Marthe: you understand. The ideas which have taken
+possession of me little by little and to which I want to devote myself
+without reserve are dangerous for young brains to listen to. They form
+the belief of an age for which I call with might and main, but it is not
+the belief of to-day; and I have no right to teach it to the children
+entrusted to my care."
+
+She was on the verge--thinking of her own children, whose well-being and
+whose future were about to suffer through this decision--she was on the
+verge of exclaiming:
+
+"Why need you shout it from the house-tops? Stifle your vain scruples
+and go on teaching what you find in the manuals and school-books."
+
+But she knew that he was like those priests who prefer to incur poverty
+and opprobrium rather than preach a religion which they no longer
+believe.
+
+And she simply said:
+
+"I do not share all your opinions, Philippe. There are even some that
+terrify me ... especially those which I do not know, but which I half
+suspect. But, whatever the goal to which you are leading us, I will walk
+to it with my eyes closed."
+
+"And ... so far ... you approve?"
+
+"Entirely. You must act according to your conscience, send that letter
+and, first of all, tell your father everything. Who knows? Perhaps he
+will admit ..."
+
+"Never!" exclaimed Philippe. "Men who look into the future can still
+understand the beliefs of former days, because those were their own
+beliefs when they were young. But men who cling to the past cannot
+accept ideas which they do not understand and which clash with their
+feelings and with their instincts."
+
+"So ...?"
+
+"So we shall quarrel and cause each other pain; and the thought of it
+distresses me infinitely."
+
+He sat down, with a movement of weariness. She leant over him:
+
+"Do not lose courage. I am sure that things will turn out better than
+you think. Wait a few days.... There is no hurry; and you will have time
+to see ... to prepare...."
+
+"Everything turns out well when you speak," he said, smiling and
+allowing himself to be caressed.
+
+"Unfortunately ..."
+
+He did not finish his sentence. He saw Suzanne opposite him, glaring at
+the pair of them. She was ghastly pale; and her mouth was wrung with a
+terrible expression of pain and hatred. He felt that she was ready to
+fling herself upon them and proclaim her rage aloud.
+
+He released himself quickly and, making an effort to jest:
+
+"Tush!" he said. "Time will show.... Enough of these jeremiads: what say
+you, Suzanne?... Suppose you saw to putting away my things?... Is
+everything done?"
+
+Marthe was surprised at the abrupt change in his manner. However, she
+replied:
+
+"There are only your papers; and I always prefer you to arrange them
+yourself."
+
+"Come on, then," he said, gaily.
+
+Marthe walked through the dressing-room to her husband's bedroom.
+Philippe was about to follow her and his foot touched the door-sill when
+Suzanne darted in front of him and barred the way with her outstretched
+arms.
+
+It happened so suddenly that he uttered a slight exclamation. Marthe
+asked, from the further room:
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Nothing," said Suzanne. "We're coming."
+
+Philippe tried to pass. She pushed him back violently and with such a
+look of her eyes that he yielded at once.
+
+They watched each other for a few seconds, like two enemies. Philippe
+fumed:
+
+"Well? What does all this mean? Do you propose to keep me here
+indefinitely?..."
+
+She came nearer to him and, in a voice that shook with restraint and
+implacable energy:
+
+"I shall expect you this evening.... It's quite easy.... You can get
+out.... I shall be outside my door at eleven."
+
+He was petrified:
+
+"You are mad!..."
+
+"No.... But I want to see you ... to speak to you ... I must ... I am
+suffering more than I can bear.... It's enough to kill me."
+
+Her eyes were full of tears, her chin seemed convulsed with spasms, her
+lips trembled.
+
+Philippe's anger was mingled with a little pity; and, above all, he felt
+the need of putting an end to the scene as quickly as possible:
+
+"Look here, baby, look here!" he said, employing an expression which he
+often used to her.
+
+"You will come ... you must come ... that is why I stayed.... One hour,
+one hour of your presence!... If you don't, I shall come here, I shall
+indeed.... I don't care what happens!"
+
+He had retreated to the window. Instinctively, he looked to see if it
+was possible to climb over the balcony and jump. It would have been
+absurd.
+
+But, as he bent forward, he saw his wife, two windows further, lean out
+and catch sight of him. He had to smile, to conceal his perturbation;
+and nothing could be more hateful to him than this comedy which a
+child's whims were compelling him to play.
+
+"You're quite pale," said Marthe.
+
+"Do you think so? I'm a little tired, I suppose. You too, you are
+looking ..."
+
+She broke in:
+
+"I thought I saw your father."
+
+"Is he back?"
+
+"Yes, there he is, at the end of the garden, with M. Joranc�. They are
+making signs to you."
+
+Morestal and his friend were climbing up beside the waterfall and waving
+their hands to attract Philippe's attention. When he came under the
+windows, Morestal cried:
+
+"This is what we have arranged, Philippe. You and I are dining at
+Joranc�'s."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"There's no but about it; we'll explain why. I'll have the carriage got
+ready and Joranc� will go ahead with Suzanne."
+
+"What about Marthe?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Marthe can come if she likes. Come down here. We'll fix it all up."
+
+When Philippe turned round, Suzanne was standing close against him:
+
+"You'll come, won't you?" she said, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, if Marthe does."
+
+"Even if Marthe doesn't ... I insist ... I insist.... Oh, Philippe, I
+implore you, don't drive me to extremities!"
+
+He was afraid of an outburst:
+
+"As a matter of fact," he said, "why shouldn't I come? It's quite
+natural that I should dine at your house with my father."
+
+"Do you mean it?" she murmured. "Will you really come?"
+
+She seemed suddenly calmed; and her face assumed a look of childish
+delight:
+
+"Oh, how happy I am!... How happy I am! My beautiful dream will be
+fulfilled.... We shall walk together in the dark, without speaking a
+word.... And I shall never forget that hour.... Nor you either, Philippe
+... nor you either...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SHEET OF NOTE-PAPER
+
+
+A hand was passed through the bars of the gate at the top of the
+staircase leading to the terrace and seized the clapper of the little
+bell fastened to one of the bars. A push ... and the gate was open.
+
+"Not much difficulty about that," said the man, carefully stepping on to
+the terrace. "Since the mountain won't come to Dourlowski, Dourlowski
+must ..."
+
+The man stopped: he had heard voices. But, on listening, he found that
+the sound of voices came from behind the house. He quietly entered the
+drawing-room, therefore, walked straight across it and reached the
+windows on the other side. A little further, at the foot of the steps,
+he saw a carriage ready to start, with Suzanne and her father sitting in
+it. The Morestal family were standing round the carriage.
+
+"That's all right," said Morestal. "Philippe and I will walk ... and
+we'll do the same coming home, won't we, my boy?"
+
+"And you, Marthe?" asked Joranc�.
+
+"No, thank you. I will stay with mamma."
+
+"Well, we'll send your men home to you soon ... especially as Morestal
+likes going to bed early. They will leave the house at ten o'clock
+precisely; and I will go a bit of the way with them, as far as the
+Butte."
+
+"That's it," said Morestal. "We shall see the demolished post by
+moonlight. And we shall be here by half-past ten, mother. That's a
+promise. Off you go, Victor."
+
+The carriage drove off. Dourlowski, in the drawing-room, took out his
+watch and set it by the clock, whispering:
+
+"Consequently, they'll reach the Butte at a quarter past ten. That's a
+good thing to know. And now to inform old Morestal that his friend
+Dourlowski has come to hunt him up in his happy home."
+
+Putting two of his fingers to his mouth, he gave the same faint whistle
+which Morestal had heard that morning, something like the unfinished
+note of certain birds:
+
+"That's done it," he grinned. "The old boy pricked up his ears. He has
+sent the others for a stroll in the garden and he's coming this way...."
+
+He made a movement backwards on hearing Morestal's footstep in the hall,
+for he knew the old fellow was not given to joking. And, in fact,
+Morestal, the moment he entered, ran up to him and took him by the
+collar of his jacket:
+
+"What are you doing here? What do you mean by it? How dare you?... I'll
+show you a road which you don't know of!"
+
+Dourlowski began to laugh with his crooked mouth:
+
+"My dear M. Morestal, you'll dirty your hands."
+
+His clothes were shiny and thick with grease, stretched over a small
+round body, that contrasted strangely with his lean and bony face. And
+all this formed a jovial, grotesque and rather alarming picture.
+
+Morestal let go his hold and, in an imperative tone:
+
+"Explain yourself and quickly. I don't want my son to see you here.
+Speak."
+
+There was no time to be lost, as Dourlowski saw:
+
+"Well, look here," he said. "It's a question of a young soldier in the
+B�rsweilen garrison. He's too unhappy for words where he is ... and he's
+mad at having to serve Germany."
+
+"A ne'er-do-well," growled Morestal. "A slacker who doesn't want to
+work."
+
+"No, not this one, I tell you, not this one. He means to enlist in the
+Foreign Legion. He loves France."
+
+"Yes, always the same story. And then--pah!--one never hears of them
+again. More gallows' seed!"
+
+Dourlowski seemed shocked and scandalized:
+
+"How can you say such a thing, M. Morestal?... If you only knew! A brave
+soldier who asks nothing better than to die fighting for our country."
+
+The old man started:
+
+"'Our country,' indeed! I forbid you to speak like that. Have you the
+least idea where you hail from? A scamp like you has no country."
+
+"You forget all that I have done, M. Morestal.... You and I, between us,
+have 'passed' four of them already."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal, who seemed to take no pleasure in
+this recollection. "Hold your tongue.... If the thing had never happened
+..."
+
+"It would happen just the same, because you are a good-natured man and
+because there are things.... There.... It's like with this lad.... It
+would break your heart to see him.... Johann Baufeld his name is.... His
+father is just dead ... and he wants to go out to his mother, who was
+divorced and who lives in Algeria.... Such a nice lad, full of
+pluck...."
+
+"Well," said Morestal, "he's only got to 'pass'! You don't want me for
+that."
+
+"And what about the money? He hasn't a sou. Besides, there's no one
+like you to tell us all the paths, the best place to cross at, the best
+time to select...."
+
+"I'll see about it.... I'll see about it," said Morestal. "There's no
+hurry...."
+
+"Yes, there is...."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The B�rsweilen regiment is manoeuvring on the slopes of the Vosges.
+If you'll lend us a hand, I'll run down to Saint-�lophe first, buy a
+suit of second-hand French peasant's clothes and go and find my man.
+Then I'll bring him to the old barn in your little farm to-night ... as
+I have done before...."
+
+"Where is he at this moment?"
+
+"His company is quartered in the Albern Woods."
+
+"But that's next door to the frontier!" cried Morestal. "An hour's walk,
+no more."
+
+"Just so; but how he is to reach the frontier? Where is he to cross it?"
+
+"That's quite easy," said Morestal, taking up a pencil and a sheet of
+note-paper. "Look, here are the Albern Woods. Here's the Col du Diable.
+Here's the Butte-aux-Loups.... Well, he's only got to leave the woods by
+the Fontaine-Froide and take the first path to the left, by the Roche de
+..."
+
+He suddenly interrupted himself, looked at Dourlowski with a suspicious
+air and said:
+
+"But you know the road as well as I do ... there's no doubt about
+that.... So ..."
+
+"My word," said Dourlowski, "I always go by the Col du Diable and the
+factory."
+
+Morestal reflected for a moment, scribbled a few lines and a few words
+in an absent-minded sort of way and then, with a movement of quick
+resolution, took the sheet of note-paper, crumpled it into a ball and
+flung it into the waste-paper basket:
+
+"No, no, certainly not!" he cried. "I've had enough of this nonsense!
+One succeeds four times; and, at the fifth attempt.... Besides, it's not
+a business I care about.... A soldier's a soldier ... whatever uniform
+he wears...."
+
+"Still ..." mumbled Dourlowski.
+
+"I refuse. Not to mention that they suspect me over yonder. The German
+commissary gives me a queer look when he meets me; and I won't risk ..."
+
+"You're risking nothing."
+
+"That'll do; and clear out of this as fast as you can.... Oh, wait a
+second!... I think I ... Listen ..."
+
+Morestal ran to the windows overlooking the garden. Quick as thought,
+Dourlowski stooped and fished Morestal's crumpled sheet out of the
+waste-paper basket. He hid it in the palm of his hand and, raising his
+voice:
+
+"We'll say no more about it, as you don't see your way to help me," he
+said. "I give it up."
+
+"That's it," said Morestal, who had seen no one in the garden. "You give
+it up, my friend: it's the best thing you can do."
+
+He took Dourlowski by the shoulders and pushed him towards the terrace:
+
+"Be off ... and don't come back.... There's nothing more for you to do
+here ... absolutely nothing...."
+
+He hoped to get rid of the fellow without being perceived, but, as he
+reached the gate, he saw his wife, his son and Marthe come up the
+staircase, after strolling round the walls of the Old Mill.
+
+Dourlowski took off his hat and distributed bows all round. Then, as
+soon as the road was clear, he disappeared.
+
+Mme. Morestal expressed her astonishment:
+
+"What! Do you still see that rogue of a Dourlowski?"
+
+"Oh, it was an accident!..."
+
+"You are very wrong to have him in the house. We don't even know where
+he comes from or what his trade is."
+
+"He's a hawker."
+
+"A spy, rather: that's what they say about him."
+
+"Tah! In the pay of which country?"
+
+"Of both, very likely. Victor thinks he saw him with the German
+commissary, two Sundays ago."
+
+"With Weisslicht? Impossible. He doesn't even know him."
+
+"I'm telling you what they say. In any case, Morestal, be careful with
+that fellow. He's a bird of ill-omen."
+
+"Come, come, mother, no hard words. This is a day of rejoicing.... Are
+you ready, Philippe?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PLASTER STATUE
+
+
+There were several ways leading to Saint-�lophe. First of all, the
+high-road, which goes winding down a slope some two miles long; next, a
+few rather steep short cuts; and, lastly, further north, the
+forest-path, part of which skirts the ridge of the Vosges.
+
+"Let's go by the road, shall we?" said Morestal to his son.
+
+And, as soon as they had started, he took Philippe's arm and said,
+gleefully:
+
+"Only think, my boy, at the camp, just now, we met one of the
+lieutenants of the manoeuvring company. We talked about the Saboureux
+business and, this evening, he is going to introduce us to his captain,
+who happens to be a nephew of General Daspry, commanding the army-corps.
+So I shall tell him what I have done at the Old Mill, you see; he will
+report it to his uncle Daspry; and Fort Morestal will be listed at
+once...."
+
+He beamed with delight, held his head high and flung out his chest,
+while, with his free hand, he made warlike flourishes with his cane.
+Once he even halted and placed himself on guard and stamped his foot on
+the ground:
+
+"Three appels ... Engage ... Lunge! What do you say to that, Philippe,
+eh? Old Morestal is game yet!"
+
+Philippe, full of affection for the old man, smiled. Now that he was
+acting on Marthe's advice and delaying the painful explanation, life
+seemed better to him, quite simple and quite easy, and he surrendered
+himself to the pleasure of seeing his father again and the scenes which
+he loved and renewing the childhood memories that seemed to await him at
+every turn of the road and to rise up at his approach:
+
+"Do you remember, father? This is where I fell off my bicycle.... I was
+standing under that tree when it was struck by lightning...."
+
+They stopped, recalled all the circumstances of the event and set off
+again, arm in arm.
+
+And, a little further, Morestal took up the thread:
+
+"And over there, do you remember? That's where you killed your first
+rabbit ... with a catapult! Ah, even in those days you promised to be a
+good shot ... the best at Saint-�lophe, as I live!... But I was
+forgetting: you have given up your gun! A fellow of your build! Why,
+sport, my boy, is the great apprenticeship for war!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Saint-�lophe-la-C�te, once a flourishing little town, had never quite
+recovered from the wounds earned by its heroism during the war. It stood
+crowding round an old ruined castle which became visible at the last
+turn in the road. Nevertheless, situated on the borders of the
+department, at twelve or thirteen miles from Noirmont, the
+sub-prefecture, it owed a certain importance to its position near the
+frontier, facing the German garrisons, whose increasing activity was
+becoming a subject of uneasiness and had led to Joranc�'s appointment as
+special commissary.
+
+Joranc�, the first holder of this newly-created office, lived at the
+other end of the village and a little way outside it, in a low-storeyed
+house which had been greatly improved by Suzanne's good taste and fancy.
+It was surrounded by a garden with arbours and quaintly-clipped old
+trees and a clear, winding stream that flowed under the very doorstep.
+
+It was nearly dark when Morestal entered, accompanied by Philippe.
+Everything was ready for their reception: the table was laid in a room
+hung with bright stuffs; flowers were scattered over the cloth; two
+lamps shed a calm and even light; and Suzanne sat smiling, happy and
+charming.
+
+All this was very simple. And yet Philippe received the impression that
+special pains had been taken on his account. It was he who was expected;
+he was the master who was to be conquered and chained with invisible
+bonds. He felt sure of this; and Suzanne told him as much throughout
+dinner, with her fond glances, her attentive movements, her whole person
+bending towards him.
+
+"I ought not to have come," he thought. "No, I ought not to have."
+
+And, each time that he met Suzanne's eyes, he called to mind his wife's
+discreet manner and her thoughtful air.
+
+"How absorbed you are, Philippe!" cried Morestal, who had never ceased
+talking while eating. "And you, Suzanne, what are you thinking about?
+Your future husband?"
+
+"Not I!" she replied, without the least embarrassment. "I was thinking
+of those months I spent in Paris last winter. How good you were to me,
+Philippe! I remember the walks we used to take!..."
+
+They spoke of those walks; and, little by little, Philippe was surprised
+to realize the extent to which their lives had been mingled during that
+stay. Marthe, retained by her household duties, used to remain at home,
+while they two escaped, like a couple of free and careless play-fellows.
+They visited the museums and churches of Paris, the little towns and
+castles of the Ile-de-France. An intimacy sprang up between them. And
+now it confused him to find Suzanne at once so near to him and so far,
+so near as a friend, so far as a woman.
+
+When dinner was over, he moved round to his father. Morestal, eager to
+go and keep his appointment with Captain Daspry, stood up:
+
+"Are you coming with us, Philippe?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+The three men took their hats and sticks; but, when they reached the
+hall-door, after a whispered colloquy with Joranc�, Morestal said to his
+son:
+
+"On second thoughts, it's better that we should go alone. The interview
+must remain as secret as possible; and we shall be less easy if there
+are three of us...."
+
+"Besides," added the special commissary, "you may just as well keep
+Suzanne company: it is her last evening. Good-bye for the present,
+children. You can be sure that the two conspirators will be back when
+the belfry-clock strikes ten, eh, Morestal?"
+
+They went off, leaving Philippe not a little perplexed.
+
+Suzanne burst out laughing:
+
+"My poor Philippe, you look very uncomfortable. Come, cheer up! I
+sha'n't eat you, I promise you!"
+
+"No, I don't expect you will," he said, laughing in his turn. "But, all
+the same, it's strange ..."
+
+"All the same, it's strange," she said, completing the sentence, "that
+we should take a walk round the garden together, as I asked you. You
+will have to make the best of a bad job. Here comes the harmless,
+necessary moonlight."
+
+The moon emerged slowly from the great clouds stacked around a
+mountain-crest; and its light cast the regular shadows of the yews and
+fir-trees on the lawns. The weather was heavy with approaching storms. A
+warm breeze wafted the perfumes of plants and grass.
+
+Three times, they followed the outer path, along a hedge and along a
+wall. They said nothing; and this silence, which he found it impossible
+to break, filled Philippe with remorse. At that moment, he experienced a
+feeling of aversion for that capricious and unreasonable little girl,
+who had brought about those compromising minutes between them.
+Unaccustomed to women and always rather shy in their company, he
+suspected her of some mysterious design.
+
+"Let's go over there," said Suzanne, pointing to the middle of the
+garden, where the shadows seemed to gather round a thick clump of
+shrubs and hornbeams.
+
+They made for the place through an arcade of verdure which brought them
+to a short flight of steps. It was a sunk amphitheatre, surrounded by a
+stone balustrade, with a small pond in the middle and, opposite, in a
+leafy frame, a female statue, with a moonbeam quivering upon it. A musty
+smell arose from this old-fashioned spot.
+
+"Venus or Minerva? Corinne perhaps?" said Philippe, joking to conceal
+his uneasiness. "I confess I can't quite make out. What is she wearing:
+a peplum or an Empire frock? And is that a helmet or a turban on her
+head?"
+
+"It depends," said Suzanne.
+
+"How do you mean? What upon?"
+
+"Yes, it depends upon my humour. When I'm good and sensible, she's
+Minerva. When I look at her with a yearning heart, she becomes Venus.
+And she is also, according to the mood of the moment, the goddess of
+madness ... and the goddess of tears ... and the goddess of death."
+
+She spoke with a playfulness that saddened Philippe. He asked:
+
+"And what is she the goddess of to-day?"
+
+"The goddess of farewell."
+
+"Of farewell?"
+
+"Yes, farewell to Suzanne Joranc�, to the girl who has come here every
+day, for the last five years, and who will never come here again."
+
+She leant against the statue:
+
+"My dear goddess, what dreams we two have had, you and I! We used to
+wait together. For whom? For the Blue Bird ... for Prince Charming. The
+prince was to arrive on horseback, one day, jump the garden-wall and
+carry me off, slung across his saddle. He was to slip through the trees,
+one evening, and go up the steps on his knees, sobbing. And all the vows
+I made to my dear goddess! Just think, Philippe: I promised her never to
+bring a man into her presence unless I loved him! And I kept my promise.
+You are the first, Philippe."
+
+He flushed red in the dark; and she continued, in a voice the gaiety of
+which rang false:
+
+"If you only knew how silly a girl is, dreaming and vowing things! Why,
+I even promised her that that man and I should exchange our first kiss
+before her. Isn't it ridiculous? Poor goddess! She will never see that
+kiss of love; for, after all, I don't suppose you intend to kiss me?"
+
+"Suzanne!"
+
+"Well, did you? There's no reason why you should; and the whole thing's
+absurd. So you will admit that this dear goddess has no sense and that
+she deserves to be punished."
+
+With a quick movement of the arm, she gave a push to the statue, which
+fell to the ground and broke into halves.
+
+"What are you doing?" he cried.
+
+"Leave me alone ... leave me alone," said Suzanne, in an angry voice.
+
+It was as though her action had loosed in her a long-contained fury and
+wicked instincts which she was no longer able to control. She rushed
+forwards and madly kicked and raged at the broken pieces of the statue.
+
+He tried to interfere and took her by the arm. She turned upon him:
+
+"I won't have you touch me!... It's your fault.... Let me go ... I hate
+you!... Yes, it's all your fault!..."
+
+And, releasing herself from his grasp, she fled towards the house.
+
+The scene had not lasted twenty seconds.
+
+"Hang it!" snarled Philippe, though he was not in the habit of swearing.
+
+His irritation was so great that, if the poor plaster goddess had not
+already been reduced to fragments, he would certainly have flung her
+from her pedestal. But, above all things, he was swayed by one idea: to
+go away, not to see Suzanne again and to have done with this nonsense,
+of which he felt all the hatefulness and absurdity.
+
+He also quickly made his way back to the house. Unfortunately, knowing
+no other outlet by which to escape, he went through the passage. The
+dining-room door was open. He saw the girl sitting huddled in a chair,
+with her head between her hands, sobbing.
+
+He did not know how artificial a woman's tears can be. Nor did he know
+the danger in those tears for him who is moved by the sight of their
+flowing. But, had he known it, he would just the same have stayed; for
+man's pity is infinite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+EVE TRIUMPHANT
+
+
+"There!" she said, after a few minutes. "The storm is over."
+
+She raised her beautiful face, now lit with a smile:
+
+"No black on my eye-lashes, you see," she added, gaily. "No rouge on my
+lips.... Take note, please.... Nothing that comes off!"
+
+This versatility of mood, the despair, which he had felt to be real,
+followed by a light-heartedness which he felt to be equally sincere; all
+this bewildered Philippe.
+
+She began to laugh:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe! You look as though you did not understand much
+about women ... and even less about girls!"
+
+She rose and went to the next room, which was her bedroom, as he saw by
+the white curtains and the arrangement of the furniture; and she
+returned with an album, in which she showed him, on the first page, the
+photograph of a child, crying:
+
+"Look, Philippe. I haven't changed. At two years old, just as now, I
+used to have great big sorrows and eyes that flowed like taps."
+
+He turned the pages of the album. There were portraits of Suzanne at all
+ages: Suzanne as a child, Suzanne as a little girl, Suzanne as a young
+girl; and each was more bewitching than the last.
+
+At the bottom of one page, he read:
+
+"_Suzanne, twenty._"
+
+"Lord, how pretty you were!" he muttered, dazed by that image of beauty
+and gladness.
+
+And he looked at Suzanne, in spite of himself.
+
+"I have grown older," she said. "Three long years...."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders without replying, for, on the contrary, he
+thought her lovelier still; and he turned the pages. Two loose
+photographs slipped to the floor. She put out her hand to take them, but
+did not complete the movement.
+
+"May I?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+He was much astonished when he examined one of the portraits:
+
+"This," he said, "makes you look older than you are.... How funny! And
+why that old-fashioned dress?... That quaint way of doing your hair....
+It's you ... and yet it's not you.... Who is it?"
+
+"Mamma," she said.
+
+He was surprised, knowing Joranc�'s persistent rancour, that he should
+have given his daughter the portrait of a mother whom she had been
+taught to believe long dead. And he remembered the riotous adventures of
+the divorced wife, now the beautiful Mme. de Glaris, who was celebrated
+in the chronicles of fast society for her dresses and her jewellery and
+whose photographs were displayed in the shop-windows of the Rue de
+Rivoli for the admiration of the passers-by.
+
+"Yes," he said, awkwardly and not quite knowing what he was saying,
+"yes, you are like her.... And is this also ...?"
+
+He suppressed a movement of astonishment. This time, he clearly
+recognized Suzanne's mother, or rather the Mme. de Glaris of the Rue de
+Rivoli, bare-shouldered, decked in her pearls and diamonds, shameless
+and magnificent.
+
+Suzanne, who kept her eyes raised to his face, did not speak; and they
+remained opposite each other, motionless and silent.
+
+"Does she know the truth?" Philippe asked himself. "No ... no ... it's
+not possible.... She must have bought this photograph, because of the
+likeness to herself which she saw in it, and she does not suspect
+anything...."
+
+But he was not satisfied with his surmise and he dared not question the
+girl, for fear of touching upon one of those mysterious griefs which
+become more acute when once they are no longer secret.
+
+She put the two portraits back in the album and locked the clasp with a
+little key. Then, after a long pause, laying her hand on Philippe's arm,
+she said to him, in words that corresponded strangely with the thoughts
+that troubled him:
+
+"Do not be angry with me, dear, and, above all, do not judge me too
+severely. There is a Suzanne in me whom I do not know well ... and who
+often frightens me.... She is capricious, jealous, wrong-headed, capable
+of anything ... yes, of anything.... The real Suzanne is good and
+sensible: 'You're _my_ daughter to-day,' papa used to say to me, when I
+was a little girl. And he said it in such a happy tone! But, the next
+day, I was his daughter no longer; and, struggle and fight as hard as I
+might, I could not become so again.... Things prevented me; and I used
+to cry because papa seemed to hate me.... And I wanted to be good....
+And I still want to and I always do.... But there is nothing in the
+world so hard ... because the other ... the other one does not want
+to.... And besides ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+She waited a moment, as though hesitating, and continued:
+
+"And, besides, what she wants, what the other Suzanne wants does not
+appear to me so very unreasonable. It is an immense longing to love
+somebody, but to love madly, boundlessly, to love too well.... Then it
+seems to me that life has no other object ... and all the rest bores
+me.... You know, Philippe, even when I was ever so small, that word love
+used to upset me. And, later ... and now, at certain times, I feel my
+brain going and all my soul seeking, waiting...."
+
+She hid her face again, as though seized with a sudden feeling of
+bashfulness, and Philippe saw, between her fingers, her crimson forehead
+and cheeks.
+
+His pity swelled within him. Through those desultory confidences, he saw
+Suzanne as she was, ignorant, ill-informed about herself and about the
+realities of life, troubled with desires which she took for unsatisfied
+feelings, torn by the implacable duel between contrary instincts and
+possessing nothing to counteract her woman's nature but a wayward and
+melancholy virtue.
+
+How good it would be to save her! He went up to her and, very gently,
+said:
+
+"You must get married, Suzanne."
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"There have been young men here who seemed to like me, but they always
+went away after a few days. One would almost think that they were afraid
+of me ... or that they had heard things ... against me.... Besides ... I
+didn't care for them.... It was not they ... that I was waiting for....
+It was somebody else.... And he did not come."
+
+He understood the irreparable words which she was about to utter and he
+ardently hoped that she would not utter them.
+
+Suzanne guessed his wish and was silent. But the avowal was so clear,
+even when unexpressed, that Philippe read all its passion in the long
+silence that followed. And Suzanne experienced a great joy, as though
+the indissoluble bond of words were linking them together. She added:
+
+"It was a little your fault, Philippe, and you felt it, in a way, at
+dinner. Yes, a little your fault.... In Paris, I lived a dangerous life
+beside you.... Just think, we were always together, always by ourselves,
+we two; and, for days at a time, I had the right to think that there was
+no one in the world but you and I. It was for me that you talked, it was
+to make me worthy of yourself that you explained things to me which I
+did not know, that you took me to see the beautiful sights in the
+churches, in the old towns.... And I, I was amazed. At what I was
+learning? Oh, no, Philippe, but at the new world that suddenly opened up
+to me. I did not listen to your words, but I listened to the sound of
+your voice. My eyes saw only your eyes. It was your admiration that I
+admired; your love for the beautiful was what I loved. All that you
+taught me to know ... and to love, Philippe, was ... yourself."
+
+Notwithstanding his inward rebellion, the words entered into Philippe's
+being like a caress; and he too almost forgot himself in the pleasure of
+listening to the sound of a soft voice and looking into eyes that are
+dear to one.
+
+He said, simply:
+
+"And Marthe?"
+
+She did not answer; and he felt that, like many women, she was
+indifferent to considerations of that sort. To them, love is a reason
+that excuses everything.
+
+Then, seeking to create a diversion, he repeated:
+
+"You must get married, Suzanne, you must. That is where your safety
+lies."
+
+"Oh, I know!" she said, wringing her hands in despair. "I know ... only
+..."
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"I haven't the strength to."
+
+"You must find the strength."
+
+"I can't.... I ought to have it given me. I ought to have ... oh,
+nothing very much, perhaps ... a little gladness ... a glad memory ...
+the thought that my life will not have been entirely wasted.... The
+thought that I too shall have had my spell of love.... But that short
+spell I ask for ... I beg for it, I pray for it."
+
+He blurted out:
+
+"You will find it in marriage, Suzanne."
+
+"No, no," she said, more bitterly, "only the man I love can give it to
+me.... I want, once at least, to feel a pair of arms around me, nothing
+but that, I assure you ... to lay my head on your shoulder and to remain
+like that, for an instant."
+
+She was so near to Philippe that the muslin of her bodice touched his
+clothes and he breathed the scent of her hair. He felt a mad temptation
+to take her in his arms. And it would have been a very small thing, as
+she had said: one of those moments of happiness which one plucks like a
+flower and remembers.
+
+She looked at him, not sadly now, nor resigned, but smiling, archly,
+with all the ingenious charm of the woman who is trying to conquer.
+
+He turned pale and murmured:
+
+"Suzanne, I am your friend. Be my friend, simply, and let your
+imagination ..."
+
+"You're afraid," she said.
+
+He tried to jest:
+
+"Afraid! Goodness gracious me, of what?"
+
+"Afraid of the one little affectionate action which I ask of you, the
+action of a brother kissing his sister. That's what you shrink from,
+Philippe."
+
+"I shrink from it because it is wrong and wicked," he declared, firmly.
+"That is the only reason."
+
+"No, Philippe, there is another reason."
+
+"Which is that?"
+
+"You love me."
+
+"I! I love you?... I!"
+
+"Yes, you, Philippe, you love me. And I defy you to look me in the face,
+to look me straight in the eyes and deny it."
+
+And, without giving him time to recover, she continued, bending over him
+eagerly:
+
+"You were in love with me, before I fell in love with you. It was your
+love that created mine. Don't protest, you have no right to do so now,
+for you know.... And I, I knew it from the first day. Oh, believe me, a
+woman is never mistaken.... Your eyes, when they looked at me, had a new
+look in them ... there, the look of just now. You have never looked like
+that at any woman, Philippe; not even at Marthe, ... no ... not even at
+her.... You never loved her, her nor the others. I was the first. Love
+was a thing unknown to you and you do not understand it yet ... and you
+sit there in front of me, nonplussed and dumbfoundered, because the
+truth appears to you and because you love me, Philippe, because you love
+me, my dear Philippe...."
+
+She clung to him, in an upheaval of hope and certainty, and he seemed
+not to resist.
+
+"You were afraid, Philippe. That is why you made up your mind not to see
+me again.... That is why you spoke so harshly to me just now.... You
+were afraid, because you love me.... Do you understand now?... Oh,
+Philippe, I should not have acted with you as I have done, if you did
+not love me.... I should never have had the presumption!... But I
+knew.... I knew ... and you don't deny it, do you?... Oh, how I
+suffered! My jealousy of Marthe!... To-day again, when she kissed
+you.... And the thought of going away without as much as saying good-bye
+to you!... And the thought of that marriage!... What a torture!... But
+it's over now, is it not? I shall suffer no more ... because you love
+me."
+
+She spoke these last words with a sort of timorous hesitation and
+without taking her eyes from Philippe's face, as though expecting him to
+give an answer that would calm the sudden anguish with which she was
+torn.
+
+He was silent. His eyes were dull, his forehead creased with wrinkles.
+He seemed to be reflecting and did not appear to reck that Suzanne was
+there so close to him, her arms clinging to his arms.
+
+She whispered:
+
+"Philippe.... Philippe...."
+
+Had he heard? He remained impassive. Then, little by little, Suzanne
+released her embrace. Her hands fell to her sides. She gazed with
+infinite distress upon the man she loved and, suddenly, sank into a
+heap, weeping:
+
+"Oh, I am mad!... I am mad! Why did I speak?"
+
+It was a horrible ordeal for her, after the hope that had excited her,
+and this time it was real tears that flowed down her cheeks. The sound
+of the sobs roused Philippe from his dream. He listened to it sadly and
+then began to pace the room. Moved though he was, what was passing
+within him troubled him even more. He loved Suzanne!
+
+It did not for a second occur to him to deny the truth. From the first
+sentences that Suzanne had spoken and without his having to seek for
+further proofs, he had admitted his love even as one admits the presence
+of a thing that one sees and touches. And that was why Suzanne, at the
+mere sight of Philippe's attitude, had suddenly realized the imprudence
+which she had committed in speaking: Philippe, once warned, was escaping
+her. He was one of those men who become conscious of their duty at the
+very moment when they perceive their fault.
+
+"Philippe!" she said, once more. "Philippe!"
+
+As he did not reply, she took his hand again and whispered:
+
+"You love me, though ... you love me.... Well, then, if you love me ..."
+
+The tears did not disfigure her exquisite face. On the contrary, grief
+decked her with a new, graver and more touching beauty. And she ended,
+ingenuously enough:
+
+"Then, if you love me, why do you repel me? Surely, when one loves, one
+does not repel the thing one loves.... And you love me...."
+
+The pretty mouth was all entreaty. Philippe observed its voluptuous
+action. It was as though the two lips delighted in uttering words of
+love and as though they could pronounce no others.
+
+He turned away his eyes to escape the fascination and, controlling
+himself, mastering his voice so that she might not perceive its tremor,
+he said:
+
+"It is just because I love you, Suzanne, that I am repulsing you ...
+because I love you too well...."
+
+The phrase implied a breach which she felt to be irreparable. She did
+not attempt to protest. It was finished. And she knew this so thoroughly
+that, a moment later, when Philippe opened the door and prepared to go
+away, she did not even raise her head.
+
+He did not go, however, for fear of offending her. He sat down. There
+was only a little table between them. But how far he was from her! And
+how it must surprise her that all her feminine wiles, her coquetry, the
+allurement of her lips were powerless to subjugate the will of that man
+who loved her!
+
+The belfry-clock struck ten. When Morestal and Joranc� arrived, Suzanne
+and Philippe had not exchanged a single word.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+"Ready to start, Philippe?" cried Morestal. "Have you said good-bye to
+Suzanne?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"Yes, we have said good-bye."
+
+"Well, then it's my turn," he said, kissing her. "Joranc�, it's settled
+that you're coming with us."
+
+"As far as the Butte-aux-Loups."
+
+"If you go as far as the Butte," said Suzanne to her father, "you may
+just as well go on to the Old Mill and come back by the high-road."
+
+"That's true. But are you staying behind, Suzanne?"
+
+She decided to see them out of Saint-�lophe. She quickly wrapped a silk
+scarf round her head:
+
+"Here I am," she said.
+
+The four of them walked off, along the sleeping streets of the little
+town, and Morestal at once began to comment on his interview with
+Captain Daspry. A very intelligent man, the captain, who had not failed
+to see the importance of the Old Mill as a block-house, to use his
+expression. But, from another point of view, he had given something of a
+shock to Morestal's opinions on the attitude which a French officer
+should maintain towards his inferiors.
+
+"Just imagine, Philippe: he refuses to punish the soldiers I told him
+about ... you know, the pillagers whom Saboureux complained of.... Well,
+he refuses to punish them ... even the leader of the band, one
+Duvauchel, a lover of every country but his own, who glories in his
+ideas, they say. Can you understand it? The rascal escapes with a fine
+of ten francs, an apology, a promise not to do it again and a lecture
+from his captain! And Mossieu Daspry pretends that, with kindness and
+patience, he succeeds in turning Duvauchel and fellows of his kidney
+into his best soldiers! What humbug! As though there were any way of
+taming those beggars, short of discipline! A pack of good-for-nothing
+scoundrels, who would fly across the frontier the moment the first shot
+was fired!"
+
+Philippe had instinctively slackened his pace. Suzanne was walking
+beside him; and, every now and then, by the light of an electric lamp,
+he saw the golden halo of her hair and the delicate profile draped in
+the silk scarf.
+
+He felt full of gentleness for her, now that he no longer feared her,
+and he was tempted to speak kind words to her, as to a little sister of
+whom one is very fond. But the silence was sweeter still and he did not
+wish to break its charm.
+
+They passed the last houses. The street ran into a white country-road,
+lined with tall poplars. And they heard scraps of Morestal's
+conversation:
+
+"Oh, yes! Captain Daspry! Leniency, friendly relations between superiors
+and inferiors, the barracks looked upon as a school of brotherhood, with
+the officers for instructors! That's all very well; but do you know what
+a system of that sort leads to? An army of deserters and renegades...."
+
+Suzanne said, in a low voice:
+
+"May I have your arm, Philippe?"
+
+He at once slipped his arm through hers, happy at the thought of
+pleasing her. And he felt, besides, a great relief at seeing that she
+leant against him with the confidence of a friend. They were going to
+part and nothing would tarnish the pure memory of that day. It was a
+comforting impression, which nevertheless caused him a certain sadness.
+Duty fulfilled always leaves a taste of bitterness behind. The
+intoxication of sacrifice no longer stimulates you; and you begin to
+understand what you have refused.
+
+In the warm night, amid all the perfumes that stirred in the breeze,
+Suzanne's own scent was wafted up to him. He inhaled it long and
+greedily and reflected that no scent had ever excited him before:
+
+"Good-bye," he said, within himself. "Good-bye, little girl; good-bye to
+what was my love."
+
+And, during those last minutes, as though he were granting a crowning
+grace to his impossible longings and his forbidden dreams, he yielded to
+the delights of that love which had blossomed so mysteriously in the
+unknown regions of his soul.
+
+"Good-bye," Suzanne now said. "Good-bye, Philippe."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Yes, or else my father would come back with me; and I want nobody ...
+nobody...."
+
+Joranc� and old Morestal had stopped near a bench, at a place where two
+paths met, the wider of which, the one on the left, climbed up towards
+the frontier. The spot was known as the Carrefour du Grand Ch�ne, or
+Great Oak Crossways.
+
+Morestal kissed the girl again:
+
+"Good-bye, for the present, Suzanne. And don't forget that I'm coming to
+your wedding."
+
+He pressed the spring of his repeater:
+
+"I say, Philippe, it's a quarter past ten.... True, there's no hurry....
+Your mother and Marthe must be asleep by now. No matter, let's get
+on...."
+
+"Look here, father, if you don't mind, I would rather take the direct
+road.... The path by the Butte-aux-Loups is longer; and I am feeling
+rather tired."
+
+In reality, like Suzanne, Philippe wanted to go home alone, so that
+nothing might disturb the melancholy charm of his dream. Old Morestal's
+long speeches terrified him.
+
+"As you please, my boy," cried the old man. "But mind you don't put up
+the bolt or the chain on the hall-door."
+
+Joranc� impressed the same injunctions on Suzanne and the two walked
+away.
+
+"Good-bye, Philippe," said the girl, once again.
+
+He had already entered the path on the right.
+
+"Good-bye, Suzanne," he said.
+
+"Give me your hand, Philippe."
+
+For his hand to reach Suzanne's, he had to turn two or three steps
+back. He hesitated. But she had come towards him and, very gently, drew
+him to the foot of the path:
+
+"Philippe, we must not part like this.... It is too sad! Let us go back
+together to Saint-�lophe ... as far as the house.... Please do...."
+
+"No," he said, curtly.
+
+"Oh!" she moaned. "I asked so that I might be with you a little
+longer.... It is so sad! But you are right. Let us part."
+
+He said, in a kinder tone:
+
+"Suzanne.... Suzanne...."
+
+Bending her head a little, she put out her forehead to him:
+
+"Kiss me, Philippe."
+
+He stooped, intending to kiss the curls of her hair. But she gave a
+swift movement and flung her arms round his neck.
+
+He felt that he was lost and made a despairing effort. Suzanne's lips
+were close to his, offering themselves.
+
+"Oh, Suzanne ... Suzanne, my darling ..." he whispered, abandoning all
+resistance and pressing the girl to his breast....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TRAP
+
+
+The road which Morestal and his friend followed first makes a bend and
+climbs the wooded side of a ravine. It was formerly used for foresting
+purposes and is still paved with large stones which are covered with mud
+after a rainy day and make the ascent slippery and difficult.
+
+Morestal was panting for breath when he reached the top:
+
+"We ought ..." he said, "to see ... Philippe from here."
+
+Faint clouds dimmed the light of the moon, but still, at certain places
+denuded of trees, they were able to distinguish the other side of the
+ravine.
+
+He called out:
+
+"Hullo!... Philippe!"
+
+"I tell you what," said Joranc�. "I expect Philippe did not like to let
+Suzanne go home alone and he is taking her back, at any rate as far as
+the houses."
+
+"I dare say," said Morestal. "Poor Suzanne, she doesn't look very
+bright. So you've made up your mind to get her married?"
+
+"Yes ... I'm getting her married ... it's all settled."
+
+They started walking again, and, by an imperceptible slope, came to two
+large trees, after which the road turned to the right. From that point
+onwards, running through pine-woods along the line of the ridges, it
+marked the frontier as far as the Col du Diable.
+
+On their left was the German slope, which was steeper.
+
+"Yes," repeated Joranc�, "it's all settled. Of course, Suzanne might
+have met a younger man ... a better-looking man ... but no one more
+respectable or more serious.... To say nothing of his having a very firm
+character; and, with Suzanne, a certain amount of firmness is necessary.
+Besides ..."
+
+"Yes?" said Morestal, perceiving his hesitation.
+
+"Well, you see, Morestal, Suzanne has got to be married. She inherits
+from me an upright nature and strict principles ... but she is not only
+my daughter ... and sometimes I am afraid of finding ... bad instincts
+in her."
+
+"Have you discovered anything?"
+
+"Oh, no! And I am sure that there is nothing to discover. But it's the
+future I'm afraid of. One day or another, she may know temptation ...
+some one may make love to her ... turn her head with fair words. When
+that time comes, will she know how to resist? Oh, Morestal, the thought
+of it drives me mad! I couldn't bear it.... Just think, the daughter,
+following after the mother.... Oh, I believe ... I believe I should kill
+her!..."
+
+Morestal jested:
+
+"What a fuss about nothing! A good little girl like Suzanne!..."
+
+"Yes, you are right, it's absurd. But I can't help it, I can't
+forget.... And I don't want to, either. My duty is to think of
+everything and to give her a guide, a master who will advise her.... I
+know Suzanne: she will make a perfect wife...."
+
+"And she will have lots of children; and they will be very happy,"
+Morestal wound up. "Come, you're boring me and boring yourself with your
+fancies.... Let's talk of something else. By the way ..."
+
+He waited for Joranc� to come up with him. The two walked on abreast.
+And Morestal, who was interested in no subject outside his personal
+prejudice, resumed:
+
+"By the way, can you tell me--if it's not a professional secret, of
+course--can you tell me who that man Dourlowski is exactly?"
+
+"Six months ago," replied Joranc�, "I should not have been able to
+answer your question. But now ..."
+
+"But now?..."
+
+"He is no longer in our service."
+
+"Do you think he has gone over to the other side?"
+
+"I expect so, but I haven't the least proof of it. In any case, there's
+not much to be said in the fellow's favour. Why do you ask? Have you
+anything to do with him?"
+
+"No, no," said Morestal, remaining thoughtful.
+
+They went on in silence. The wind, which blew more strongly on the
+ridge, played among the trees. The pine-needles crackled under the soles
+of their boots. The moon had disappeared, but the sky was white with
+light.
+
+"The Pierre-Branlante.... The Chemin�e-des-F�es," said Morestal,
+pointing to the vaguely-seen shapes of two huge boulders known by those
+names of the Rocking Stone and the Fairies' Chimney.
+
+They walked for another moment:
+
+"Eh? What is it?" said Joranc�, feeling his companion catch him by the
+arm.
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Listen!"
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"Didn't you hear a sort of a hoot?"
+
+"Yes, the hoot of an owl."
+
+"Are you sure? It doesn't sound natural to me."
+
+"What do you say it is, then? A signal?"
+
+"I'm certain of it."
+
+Joranc� reflected:
+
+"After all, it's quite possible ... some smuggler perhaps.... But it's a
+bad moment to have chosen."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, now that the German post has been cut down, it's likely that all
+this part of the frontier is being more closely watched than usual."
+
+"Yes, of course," said Morestal. "Still, that owl's hoot ..."
+
+There was a short slope and then they emerged upon a higher upland,
+surrounded by enormous fir-trees, which formed a sort of rampart. This
+was the Butte-aux-Loups. The road cut it in two; and the posts of each
+country stood facing each other.
+
+Joranc� noticed that the German post had been put up again, but in a
+makeshift fashion, with the aid of a number of large stones which kept
+it in position.
+
+"A gust of wind and down it comes again," he said, shaking it.
+
+"I say, mind what you're about!" said Morestal, with a chuckle. "Don't
+you see yourself toppling it over and having the police down upon
+you?... You'd better make a strategic movement to the rear, my
+friend!..."
+
+But he had not finished speaking when another cry reached his ears.
+
+"Ah, this time," said Morestal, "you'll admit...."
+
+"Yes ... yes ..." Joranc� agreed. "An owl gives a duller, slower
+hoot.... It really is like a signal, a hundred yards or so ahead of
+us.... Smugglers, of course, French or German."
+
+"Suppose we turned back?" said Morestal. "Aren't you afraid of being
+mixed up in an affair?..."
+
+"Why? It's the custom-house people's business; it doesn't concern you
+and me. They can settle it among themselves...."
+
+They listened for a moment and then went on, thoughtfully, with watchful
+ears.
+
+After the Butte-aux-Loups, the ridge becomes flatter, the forest spreads
+out and the road, now freer, winds among the trees, runs from one slope
+to the other, avoids the big roots, passes round the inequalities of the
+ground and, at times, disappears from sight under a bed of dead leaves.
+
+But the moon had come out again and Morestal walked straight in front of
+him, without hesitation. He knew the frontier so well! He could have
+followed it with his eyes closed, in the dusk of the darkest night! At
+one place, there was a branch that blocked the way; at another, there
+was the trunk of an old oak which sounded hollow when he hit it with his
+stick. And he announced the branch before he came to it; and he struck
+at the old oak.
+
+His uneasiness, which began to seem unreasonable, was dispelled.
+Consulting his watch again, he hurried his steps, so as to reach home by
+the time which he had said.
+
+But suddenly he stopped. He thought he saw a shadow hiding, thirty or
+forty yards away from him:
+
+"Did you see?" he whispered.
+
+"Yes ... I saw...."
+
+And, all at once, there came a shrill, strident whistle, apparently from
+the very place where the shadow had vanished.
+
+"Don't move," said Joranc�.
+
+They waited, their hearts tense with the anguish of what was coming.
+
+A minute passed and more minutes; and then there was a sound of
+footsteps, below them, on the German side, the sound of a man
+hurrying....
+
+Morestal thought of the precipitous hill which he had described to
+Dourlowski as the way up to the frontier from the Albern Woods, by the
+Cold Spring, the Fontaine-Froide. In all certainty, somebody was scaling
+the upper portion of that precipice, clinging on to the branches and
+dragging himself along the pebbles.
+
+"A deserter!" whispered Joranc�. "No nonsense now!"
+
+But Morestal pushed him away and began to run to where the two roads
+crossed. At the very moment when he reached the spot, a man appeared,
+all frenzied and out of breath, and stammered, in French:
+
+"Save me!... I've been given away!... I'm frightened!..."
+
+Morestal seized hold of him and flung him off the road:
+
+"Run!... Look sharp!... Straight ahead of you!"
+
+There was the report of a rifle. The man staggered, with a moan; but he
+was evidently only wounded, for, after a few seconds, he drew himself
+up and made off through the woods.
+
+A chase ensued forthwith. Four or five Germans crossed the frontier and
+set off in pursuit of the fugitive, swearing as they went, while their
+comrades, forming the greater number, turned towards Morestal.
+
+Joranc� took him round the waist and compelled him to recoil:
+
+"This way," he said, "over there.... They won't dare ..."
+
+They returned in the direction of the Butte-aux-Loups, but were at once
+caught up:
+
+"Halt!" commanded a rough voice. "I arrest you.... You are
+accomplices.... I arrest you."
+
+"We are in France," retorted Joranc�, facing his aggressors.
+
+A hand fell on his shoulder:
+
+"We'll see about that.... We'll see about that.... You're coming with
+us."
+
+The men surrounded them; but, vigorous both and exasperated, they
+succeeded in fighting their way through with their fists:
+
+"To the Butte-aux-Loups," said Joranc�, "and keep to the left of the
+road."
+
+"We're not on the left," said Morestal, who saw, after a moment, that
+they had branched off to the right.
+
+They re-entered French territory; but the police who were pursuing the
+deserter, having lost his tracks, now fell back in their direction.
+
+Thereupon they made a bend to the right, hesitated for a moment, careful
+not to cross the road, and then set off again; and, still tracked by the
+men, whom they felt close upon their heels, they reached the acclivity
+of the Butte-aux-Loups. At that moment, surrounded on all hands and
+utterly blown, they had to stop to take breath.
+
+"Arrest them!" said the leader of the men, in whom they recognized the
+German commissary, Weisslicht. "Arrest them! We are in Germany."
+
+"You lie!" roared Morestal, fighting with wild energy. "You have not the
+right.... It's a dirty trap!"
+
+It was a violent struggle, but did not last long. He received a blow on
+the chin with the butt of a rifle, reeled, but continued to defend
+himself, hitting and biting his adversaries. At last, they succeeded in
+throwing him and, to stifle his shouting, they gagged him.
+
+Joranc�, who had taken a leap to the rear and was standing with his back
+to a tree, resisted, protesting:
+
+"I am M. Joranc�, special commissary at Saint-�lophe. I am on my own
+ground here. We are in France. There's the frontier."
+
+The men flung themselves upon him and dragged him away, while he shouted
+at the top of his voice:
+
+"Help! Help! They're arresting the French commissary on French soil!"
+
+A report was heard, followed by another. Morestal, with a superhuman
+effort, had knocked down the policeman who held him and once more took
+to flight, with a cord cutting into one of his wrists and with a gag in
+his mouth.
+
+But, two hundred yards further, as he was turning towards the Col du
+Diable, his foot knocked against the root of a tree and he fell.
+
+He was at once overtaken and firmly bound.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+A few moments later, the two prisoners were carried by the police to the
+road leading through the Albern Woods and hoisted on the backs of a
+couple of horses. They were taken to the Col du Diable and, from there,
+past the Wildermann factory and the hamlet of Torins, sent on to the
+German town of B�rsweilen.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE TWO WOMEN
+
+
+Suzanne Joranc� pushed the swing-gate and entered the grounds of the Old
+Mill.
+
+She was dressed in white and her face looked fresh and cool under a
+large hat of Leghorn straw, with its black-velvet strings hanging loose
+upon her shoulders. Her short skirt showed her dainty ankles. She walked
+with a brisk step, using a tall, iron-shod stick, while her disengaged
+hand crumpled some flowers which she had gathered on the way and which
+she dropped heedlessly as she went.
+
+The Morestals' peaceful house was waking in the morning sun. Several of
+the windows were open; and Suzanne saw Marthe writing at the table in
+her bedroom.
+
+She called out:
+
+"Can I come up?"
+
+But Mme. Morestal appeared at one of the windows of the drawing-room and
+made an imperious sign to her:
+
+"Hush! Don't speak!"
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Suzanne, when she joined the old lady.
+
+"They're asleep."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, the father and son."
+
+"Oh!" said Suzanne. "Philippe too?..."
+
+"Yes, they must have come in late and they are resting. Neither of them
+has rung his bell yet. But tell me, Suzanne, aren't you going away?"
+
+"To-morrow ... or the next day.... I confess, I'm in no hurry to go."
+
+Mme. Morestal took her to her daughter-in-law's room and asked:
+
+"Philippe's still asleep, isn't he?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Marthe. "I haven't heard him move...."
+
+"Nor I Morestal.... And yet he's an early riser, as a rule.... And
+Philippe, who wanted to go tramping at daybreak!... However, so much the
+better, sleep suits both of my men.... By the way, Marthe, didn't the
+shooting wake you in the night?"
+
+"The shooting!"
+
+"Oh, of course, your room is on the other side. The sound came from the
+frontier.... Some poacher, I suppose...."
+
+"Were M. Morestal and Philippe in?"
+
+"Surely! It must have been one or two o'clock ... perhaps later ... I
+don't quite know."
+
+She put the tea-pot and the jar of honey, which Marthe had had for
+breakfast, on the tray; and, with her mania for tidying, obeying some
+mysterious principle of symmetry, settled her daughter-in-law's things
+and any piece of furniture in the room that had been moved from its
+place. This done, with her hands hanging before her, she looked round
+for an excuse to discontinue this irksome activity. Then, discovering
+none, she left the room.
+
+"How early you are," said Marthe to Suzanne.
+
+"I wanted air ... and movement.... Besides, I told Philippe that I would
+come and fetch him. I want to go and see the ruins of the
+Petite-Chartreuse with him ... It's a bore that he's not up yet."
+
+She seemed disappointed at this accident which deprived her of a
+pleasure.
+
+"Do you mind if I finish my letters?" asked Marthe, taking up her pen.
+
+Suzanne strolled round the room, looking out of the window, leant to see
+if Philippe's was open, then sat down opposite Marthe and examined her
+long and carefully. She noted the eye-lids, which were a little rumpled;
+the uneven colouring; the tiny wrinkles on the temples; a few white
+hairs mingling with the dark tresses; all that proclaims time's little
+victories over waning youth. And, raising her eyes, she saw herself in a
+glass.
+
+Marthe surprised her glance and cried, with an admiration free from all
+envy:
+
+"You are splendid, Suzanne! You look like a triumphant goddess. What
+triumph have you achieved?"
+
+Suzanne flushed and, in her confusion, said, at random:
+
+"But you, Marthe, you look worried...."
+
+"Well, yes ... perhaps I am."
+
+And Marthe told how, on the previous evening, finding herself alone with
+her mother-in-law, she had spoken to her of Philippe's new ideas, the
+spirit of his work, his plan of resigning his position and his firm
+intention to have an explanation with M. Morestal.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well," said Marthe, "my mother-in-law flew out. She absolutely objects
+to any explanation whatever."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"M. Morestal is suffering from heart-trouble. Dr. Borel, who has
+attended him for the last twenty years, says that he must be spared any
+annoyance, any excessive excitement. And an interview with Philippe
+might have fatal results.... What can one reply to that?"
+
+"You will have to tell Philippe."
+
+"Certainly. And he, he must either keep silent and continue to lead an
+intolerable existence, or else, at the cost of the most terrible
+anguish, face M. Morestal's anger."
+
+She was silent for a moment and then, striking the table with her
+clenched fists:
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "if I could only take all those worries upon myself
+and save Philippe's peace of mind!"
+
+Suzanne felt all the force of her vehemence and energy. No pain would
+have frightened Marthe, no sacrifice would have been beyond her
+strength.
+
+"Do you love Philippe very much?" she asked.
+
+Marthe smiled:
+
+"With all my heart.... He deserves it."
+
+The younger woman felt a certain bitterness and could not help saying:
+
+"Does he love you as much as you love him?"
+
+"Why, yes, I think so.... I deserve it too."
+
+"And do you trust him?"
+
+"Oh, fully! Philippe is the most loyal creature I know."
+
+"Still ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Yes, say what you were going to.... Oh, you need not be afraid of
+asking me questions!"
+
+"Well, I was thinking ... suppose Philippe loved another woman...."
+
+Marthe burst out laughing:
+
+"If you knew how little importance Philippe attaches to all that
+business of love!"
+
+"However, supposing ..."
+
+"Very well, supposing," she said, pretending to be serious. "Philippe
+loves another woman. He is madly in love with her. What then?"
+
+"In that case, what would you do?"
+
+"Upon my word ... I've never thought about it."
+
+"Wouldn't you go for a divorce?"
+
+"And my children?"
+
+"But, if he wanted to be divorced?"
+
+"Then it would be, 'Good-bye, M. Philippe!'"
+
+Suzanne reflected, without taking her eyes from Marthe, as though she
+were spying for a sign of uneasiness on her features or seeking to
+fathom the depths of her most secret thoughts.
+
+She murmured:
+
+"And, if he deceived you?"
+
+This time, the thrust went home. Marthe shivered, stung to the quick.
+Her face altered. And she said, in a voice which she made an effort to
+contain:
+
+"Oh, that, no! If Philippe fell in love with another woman, if he wanted
+to begin his life again, without me, and if he confessed it frankly, I
+should consent to everything ... yes, to everything, even to a divorce,
+however great my despair.... But treachery, lying ..."
+
+"You would not forgive him?"
+
+"Never! Philippe is not a man whom one can forgive. He is a conscious
+man, who knows what he is doing, incapable of a weakness; and no
+forgiveness would absolve him. Besides, I myself could not ... no ... I
+could not indeed." And she added, "I have too much pride."
+
+The phrase was gravely and simply uttered and revealed a haughtiness of
+soul which Suzanne had not suspected. She felt a sort of confusion in
+the presence of the rival whom she was attacking and who held her at bay
+with such disdain.
+
+A long silence divided the two women; and Marthe said:
+
+"You're in one of your wicked moods to-day, Suzanne, aren't you?"
+
+"I am too happy to be wicked," chuckled the girl. "Only it's such a
+strange happiness! I am afraid it won't last."
+
+"Your marriage ..."
+
+"I won't get married!" declared Suzanne, excitedly. "I won't get married
+at any price! I hate that man.... He's not the only man in the world, is
+he? There are others ... others who will love me.... I too am worthy of
+being loved ... worthy of being lived for!..."
+
+There were tears in her voice; and so great a despondency overwhelmed
+her features that Marthe felt a longing to console her, as was her habit
+in such cases. Nevertheless, she said nothing. Suzanne had wounded her,
+not so much by her questions as by her attitude, by a certain sarcasm in
+her accent and by an air of defiance that mingled with the expression of
+her grief.
+
+She preferred to cut short a painful scene the meaning of which escaped
+her, although the scene itself did not astonish her on Suzanne's part:
+
+"I am going downstairs," she said. "It's time for the post; and I am
+expecting letters."
+
+"So you're leaving me!" said Suzanne, in a broken voice.
+
+Marthe could not help laughing:
+
+"Well, yes, I am leaving you in this room ... unless you refuse to
+stay...."
+
+Suzanne ran after her and, holding her back:
+
+"You mustn't! I only ask for a movement, a kind word.... I am passing
+through a terrible time, I need help and you ... you repel me.... It's
+you who are repelling me, don't forget that.... It's you...."
+
+"That's understood," said Marthe. "I am a cruel friend.... Only, you
+see, my dear little Suzanne, if the thought of your marriage upsets you
+to that extent, it might be a good plan to tell your father.... Come,
+come along downstairs and calm yourself."
+
+They found Mme. Morestal below, feather-broom in hand, an apron tied
+round her waist, waging her daily battle against a dust that existed
+only in her imagination.
+
+"I suppose you know, mamma, that Philippe is not yet up?"
+
+"The lazy fellow! It's nearly nine o'clock. I hope he's not ill!"
+
+"Oh, no!" said Marthe. "But, all the same, when I go up again, I'll look
+in and see."
+
+Mme. Morestal went as far as the hall with the two young women. Suzanne
+was already walking away, without a word, with the face which she wore
+on her black days, as Marthe said, when Mme. Morestal called her back:
+
+"You're forgetting your stick, child."
+
+The old lady had taken the long, iron-shod walking-stick from the
+umbrella-stand. But, suddenly, she began to rummage among the canes and
+sunshades, muttering:
+
+"Well, that's funny...."
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Marthe.
+
+"I can't find Morestal's stick. And yet it's always here."
+
+"He must have put it down somewhere else."
+
+"Impossible! If so, it would be the first time in his life. I know him
+so well!... What can it mean?... Victor!"
+
+The man ran into the hall:
+
+"Yes, ma'am?"
+
+"Victor, why isn't your master's cane here?"
+
+"I have a notion, ma'am, that the master has gone out."
+
+"Gone out! But you ought to have told me.... I was beginning to be
+anxious."
+
+"I said so just now to Catherine."
+
+"But what makes you think ...?"
+
+"In the first place, the master did not put his boots outside his door
+as usual.... M. Philippe neither...."
+
+"What!" said Marthe. "Has M. Philippe gone out too?"
+
+"Very early this morning, ma'am ... before my time for getting up."
+
+In spite of herself, Suzanne Joranc� protested:
+
+"But no, it's not conceivable...."
+
+"Why, when I came down," said Victor, "the front-door was not locked."
+
+"And your master never forgets to turn the key, does he?"
+
+"Never. As the door was not locked, it means either that the master has
+gone out ... or else...."
+
+"Or else what?"
+
+"That he hasn't come in.... Only, I say that as I might say anything
+that came into my head...."
+
+"Not come in!" exclaimed Mme. Morestal.
+
+She reflected for a second, then turned on her heels, ran up the stairs
+with surprising agility, crossed a passage and entered her husband's
+bedroom.
+
+She uttered a cry and called:
+
+"Marthe!... Marthe!..."
+
+But the young woman, who had followed her, was already on her way to the
+second floor, with Suzanne.
+
+Philippe's room was at the back. She opened the door quickly and stood
+on the threshold, speechless.
+
+Philippe was not there; and the bed had not even been undone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE
+
+
+The three women met in the drawing-room. Mme. Morestal walked up and
+down in dismay, hardly knowing what she was saying:
+
+"Not in!... Philippe neither!... Victor, you must run ... but where
+to?... Where is he to look?... Oh, it's really too terrible!..."
+
+She suddenly stepped in front of Marthe and stammered:
+
+"The ... the shots ... last night...."
+
+Marthe, pale with anxiety, did not reply. She had had the same awful
+thought from the first moment.
+
+But Suzanne exclaimed:
+
+"In any case, Marthe, you need not be alarmed. Philippe did not take the
+road by the frontier."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"We separated at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch�ne. M. Morestal and papa went
+on by themselves. Philippe came straight back."
+
+"No, he can't have come straight back, or he would be here now," said
+Marthe. "What can he have been doing all night? He has not even set
+foot in his room!"
+
+But Mme. Morestal was terrified by what Suzanne had said. She could now
+no longer doubt that her husband had taken the frontier-road; and the
+shots had come from the frontier!
+
+"Yes, that's true," said Suzanne, "but it was only ten o'clock when we
+started from Saint-�lophe and the shots which you heard were fired at
+one or two o'clock in the morning.... You said so yourself."
+
+"How can I tell?" cried the old lady, who was beginning to lose her head
+entirely. "It may have been much earlier."
+
+"But your father must know," said Marthe to Suzanne. "Did he tell you
+nothing?"
+
+"I have not seen my father this morning," said Suzanne. "He was not
+awake...."
+
+She had not time to finish her sentence before an idea burst in upon
+her, an idea so natural that the two other women were struck by it also
+and none of them dared put it into words.
+
+Suzanne flew to the door, but Marthe held her back. Why not telephone to
+Saint-�lophe, to the special commissary's house?
+
+A minute later, M. Joranc�'s servant replied that she had just noticed
+that her master was not in. His bed had not been touched either.
+
+"Oh!" said Suzanne, trembling all over. "My poor father!... Can
+anything have happened to him?... My poor father! I ought to have...."
+
+They stood for a moment as though paralyzed, all three, and incapable of
+taking a resolution. The man-servant went out saying that he would
+saddle the horse and gallop to the Col du Diable.
+
+Marthe, who was nearest to the telephone, rang up the mayor's office at
+Saint-�lophe, on the off-chance, and asked for news. They knew nothing
+there. But two gendarmes, it seemed, had just crossed the square at a
+great pace. Thereupon, at the suggestion of Mme. Morestal, who had taken
+up the second receiver, she asked to be put on to the gendarmery. As
+soon as she was connected, she explained her reason for telephoning and
+was informed that the sergeant was on his way to the frontier with a
+peasant who declared that he had found the body of a man in the woods
+between the Butte-aux-Loups and the Col du Diable. That was all they
+were able to tell her....
+
+Mme. Morestal let go the receiver and fell in a dead faint. Marthe and
+Suzanne tried to attend to her. But their hands trembled and, when
+Catherine, the maid-servant, appeared upon the scene, they both ran out
+of the room, roused by a sudden energy and an immense need of doing
+something, of walking, of laying eyes upon that dead body whose
+blood-stained image obsessed their minds.
+
+They went down the stairs of the terrace and scurried in the direction
+of the �tang-des-Moines. They had not gone fifty yards, when they were
+passed by Victor, who galloped by on horseback and shouted:
+
+"Go in, go in! What's the use? I shall be back again!"
+
+They went on nevertheless. But two roads offered: Suzanne wanted to take
+the one leading to the pass, on the left; Marthe, the one on the right,
+through the woods. They exchanged sharp words, blocking each other's
+way.
+
+Suddenly, Suzanne, without knowing what she was saying, flung herself
+into her friend's arms, blurting out:
+
+"I must tell you.... It is my duty.... Besides, it is all my fault...."
+
+Marthe, enraged and not understanding the words, which she was to
+remember so clearly later, spoke to her roughly:
+
+"You're quite mad to-day," she said. "Leave me alone, do."
+
+She darted into the woods and, in a few minutes, came to an abandoned
+quarry. The path went no further. She had a fit of fury, was on the
+verge of throwing herself on the ground and bursting into tears and
+then retraced her steps, for she thought she heard some one call. It was
+Suzanne, who had seen a man coming from the frontier on horseback and
+who had vainly tried to make herself heard. He was no doubt bringing
+news....
+
+Panting and exhausted, they went back again. But there was no one at the
+Old Mill, no one but Mme. Morestal and Catherine, who were praying on
+the terrace. All the servants had gone off, without plan or purpose, in
+search of information; and the man on the horse, a peasant, had passed
+without looking up.
+
+Then they dropped on a bench near the balustrade and sat stupefied, worn
+out by the effort which they had just made; and horrible minutes
+followed. Each of the three women thought of her own special sorrow and
+each, besides, suffered the anguish of the unknown disaster that
+threatened all three of them. They dared not look at one another. They
+dared not speak, although the silence tortured them. The least sound
+represented a source of foolish hope or horrid dread; and, with their
+eyes fixed on the line of dark woods, they waited.
+
+Suddenly, they rose with a start. Catherine, who was keeping a look-out
+on the steps of the staircase, had sprung to her feet:
+
+"There's Henriot!" she cried.
+
+"Henriot?" echoed Mme. Morestal.
+
+"Yes, the gardener's boy: I can make him out from here."
+
+"Where? We haven't seen him come."
+
+"He must have taken a short cut.... He is coming up the stairs....
+Quick, Henriot!... Hurry!... Do you know anything?"
+
+She pulled open the gate and a lad of fifteen or so, his face bathed in
+perspiration, appeared.
+
+He at once said:
+
+"There's a deserter been killed ... a German deserter."
+
+And the three women were forthwith overcome with a great sense of peace.
+After the rush of events that had come upon them like a tempest, it
+seemed to them as though nothing could touch them now. The phantom of
+death vanished from their minds. A man had been shot, no doubt, but that
+didn't matter, because the man was not one of theirs. And the gladness
+that revived them was such that they could almost have laughed.
+
+And, once again, Catherine appeared. She announced that Victor was
+returning. And the three women saw a man spurring his horse at the mouth
+of the pass, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck on the steep
+slope of the road. It was soon apparent, when the man reached the
+�tang-des-Moines, that some one was following him with swift strides;
+and Marthe uttered cries of joy at recognizing the tall figure of her
+husband.
+
+She waved her handkerchief. Philippe answered the signal.
+
+"It's he!" she said, almost swooning. "It's he, mamma.... I am sure that
+he'll be able to tell us everything ... and that M. Morestal is not far
+off...."
+
+"Let us go and meet them," Suzanne suggested.
+
+"Yes, I'll go," said Marthe, quickly. "You stay here, Suzanne ... stay
+with mamma."
+
+She darted away, eager to be the first to welcome Philippe and
+recovering enough strength to run to the bottom of the slope:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried. "You are back at last...."
+
+He lifted her off the ground and pressed her to him:
+
+"My darling, I hear that you have been uneasy.... You need not have
+been.... I will tell you all about it...."
+
+"Yes, you will tell us.... But come ... come quick and kiss your mother
+and reassure her...."
+
+She dragged him along. They climbed the staircase and, on reaching the
+terrace, he suddenly found himself in the presence of Suzanne, who was
+waiting, convulsed with jealousy and hatred. Philippe's emotion was so
+great that he did not even offer her his hand. Besides, at that moment,
+Mme. Morestal ran up to him:
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Alive."
+
+And Suzanne, in her turn:
+
+"Papa?"
+
+"Alive also.... They have both been carried off by the German police,
+near the frontier."
+
+"What? Prisoners?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"They haven't hurt them?"
+
+The three women all stood round him and pressed him with questions. He
+replied, laughing:
+
+"A little calmness, first.... I confess I feel rather dazed.... This
+makes two exciting nights.... Also, I am simply starving."
+
+His shoes and clothes were grey with dust. There was blood on one of his
+shirt-cuffs.
+
+"You are wounded!" cried Marthe.
+
+"No ... not I.... I'll explain to you...."
+
+Catherine brought him a cup of coffee, which he swallowed greedily, and
+he began:
+
+"It was about five o'clock in the morning when I got up; and I certainly
+had no idea, when I left my room ..."
+
+Marthe was stupefied. Why did Philippe say that he had slept there? Did
+he not know that his absence had been discovered? But then why tell
+that lie?
+
+She instinctively placed herself in front of Suzanne and in front of her
+mother; and, as Philippe had broken off, himself embarrassed by the
+obvious commotion which he had caused, she asked him:
+
+"So, last evening, you left your father and M. Joranc�?..."
+
+"At the Carrefour du Grand-Ch�ne."
+
+"Yes, so Suzanne told us. And you came back straight?"
+
+"Straight."
+
+"But you heard the shots fired?..."
+
+"Shots?"
+
+"Yes, on the frontier."
+
+"No. I must have gone to sleep at once.... I was tired.... Otherwise, if
+I had heard them ..."
+
+He had an intuition of the danger which he was running, especially as
+Suzanne was trying to make signs to him. But he had prepared the opening
+of his story so carefully that, being unaccustomed to lying, he would
+have been unable to alter a single word of it without losing the little
+coolness that remained to him. Moreover, himself worn out and incapable
+of resisting the atmosphere of anxiety and nervousness that surrounded
+him, how could he have perceived the trap which Marthe unconsciously
+had laid for him? He, therefore, repeated:
+
+"Once more, when I left my room, I had no idea of what had happened. It
+was an accident that put me in the way of it. I had reached the Col du
+Diable and was walking along the frontier-road when, half-way from the
+Butte-aux-Loups, I heard moans and groans on my left. I went to the spot
+where they came from and discovered, among the bracken, a wounded man,
+covered in blood...."
+
+"The deserter," said Mme. Morestal.
+
+"Yes, a German private, Johann Baufeld," replied Philippe.
+
+He was now coming to the true portion of his story, for his interview
+with the deserter had really taken place when he was returning from
+Saint-�lophe, at break of day; and he continued, with an easier mind:
+
+"Johann Baufeld had only a few minutes to live. He had the death-rattle
+in his throat. Nevertheless, he had strength enough left to tell me his
+name and to speak a few words; and he died in my arms, not, however,
+before I learnt from him that M. Joranc� and my father had tried to
+protect him on French territory and that the police had turned upon
+them. I therefore went in search of them. The track was easy to follow.
+It took me through the Col du Diable to the hamlet of Torins. There, the
+inn-keeper made no difficulty about telling me that a squad of police,
+several of whom were mounted, had passed his house on their way to
+B�rsweilen, where they were conveying two French prisoners. One of these
+was wounded. I could not find out if it was your father, Suzanne, or
+mine. In any case, the wounds must have been slight, for both prisoners
+were sitting their horses without assistance. I felt reassured and
+turned back. At the Col du Diable, I met Victor.... You know the rest."
+
+He seemed quite happy at finishing his story and poured himself out a
+second cup of coffee, with the satisfied air of a man who has got off
+cheaply.
+
+The three women were silent. Suzanne lowered her head, lest she should
+betray her emotion. At last, Marthe, who had no suspicions, but who was
+worrying her head about Philippe's falsehood, resumed:
+
+"At what time did you come in last night?"
+
+"At a quarter to eleven."
+
+"And you went to bed at once?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"Then how is it that your bed has not been touched?"
+
+Philippe gave a start. The question took his breath away. Instead of
+inventing some pretext or other, he stammered, guilelessly:
+
+"Oh, so you went in ... you saw ..."
+
+He had not thought of this detail, nor, for that matter, of any of those
+which might make his story appear to clash with the facts; and he no
+longer knew what to say.
+
+Suzanne suggested:
+
+"Perhaps Philippe spent the night in a chair...."
+
+Marthe shrugged her shoulders; and Philippe, utterly at a loss, trying
+to make up another version, did not even answer. He remained dumb, like
+a child caught at fault.
+
+"Come, Philippe," asked Marthe, "what's underneath this? Didn't you come
+straight back?"
+
+"No," he admitted.
+
+"You came back by the frontier?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why conceal it? I couldn't very well be anxious now, seeing that
+you are here."
+
+"That's just it!" cried Philippe, plunging at a venture along this path.
+"That's just it! I did not want to tell you that I had spent the night
+looking for my father."
+
+"The night! Then you knew before this morning that he had been carried
+off?"
+
+"Yes, last evening."
+
+"Last evening? But how? Who told you? You can only have known it by
+witnessing the arrest."
+
+He hesitated for a second. He could have dated his interview with the
+deserter Baufeld to that particular moment. But he did not think of
+this; and he declared, in a firm tone:
+
+"Well, yes, I was there ... or, at least, not far off...."
+
+"And you heard the shots?"
+
+"Yes, I heard the shots and also some cries of pain.... When I arrived
+on the scene of the fighting, there was no one there. Then I hunted
+about.... You understand, I was afraid that my father or M. Joranc� had
+been hit by the bullets.... I hunted all night, following their track in
+the dark: a wrong track, first of all, which led me towards the Albern
+Woods. And then, this morning, I found Private Baufeld, who told me
+which way the attacking party had gone, and I pushed on to the factory
+and to the inn at Torins. But if I had told you all that, oh, by Jove,
+how you would have fretted about my fatigue! Why, I can picture you
+doing so, my poor Marthe!"
+
+He pretended to be gay and careless. Marthe watched him in astonishment.
+She nodded her head with a thoughtful air:
+
+"Yes ... you are right...."
+
+"Don't you think so? It was much simpler to tell you that I had just
+left my room, feeling fit and well, after a good night's rest.... Don't
+you agree with me, mother?... Besides, you yourself ..."
+
+But, at that moment, a sound of voices rose under the windows on the
+garden-side and Catherine burst into the room, yelling:
+
+"The master! The master!"
+
+And Victor also bounded in:
+
+"Here's the master coming! There he is!"
+
+"Who? Who?" asked Mme. Morestal, hastening forward.
+
+"M. Morestal! There he is! We saw him at the end of the garden.... Look,
+over there, near the water-fall...."
+
+The old lady ran to one of the windows:
+
+"Yes! He has seen us! O God, is it possible?"
+
+Staggering with excitement, she leant heavily on Marthe's arm and
+dragged her to the staircase that led to the front hall and the steps.
+
+They had hardly disappeared when Suzanne flung herself upon Philippe:
+
+"Oh, please, Philippe ... please!" she implored.
+
+He did not understand at first:
+
+"What is it, Suzanne?"
+
+"Please, please be careful. Don't let Marthe suspect...."
+
+"Do you think ...?"
+
+"I thought so, for a second.... She gave me such a queer look.... Oh, it
+would be terrible!... Please, please ..."
+
+She left him quickly, but her words and the scared look in her eyes gave
+Philippe a real fright. Hitherto, he had felt towards Marthe only the
+embarrassment provoked by the annoyance of having to tell a lie. He now
+suddenly perceived the full gravity of the situation, the peril which
+threatened Suzanne and which might shatter the happiness of his own
+household. One blunder ... and everything was discovered. And this
+thought, instead of clearing his brain forthwith, merely increased his
+confusion.
+
+"I must save Suzanne," he repeated. "Above all, I must save Suzanne."
+
+But he felt that he had no more power over the events at hand than a man
+has over the approaching storm. And a dull fear arose within his breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+FATHER AND SON
+
+
+Bare-headed, tangle-haired, his clothes torn, no collar, blood on his
+shirt, on his hands, on his face, blood everywhere, a wound in his neck,
+another on his lip, unrecognizable, horrible to look at, but magnificent
+in energy, heroic and triumphant: such was the appearance presented by
+old Morestal.
+
+He chortled:
+
+"Here!" he shouted.
+
+An enormous laugh rolled from under his moustache:
+
+"Morestal? Here!... Morestal, for the second time, a prisoner of the
+Teuton ... and, for the second time, free!"
+
+Philippe stared at him in dismay, as though at an apparition.
+
+"Well, sonny? Is that the way you welcome me home?"
+
+He caught hold of a napkin and wiped his face with a great, wide
+gesture. Then he drew his wife to him:
+
+"Kiss me, mother!... And you, Philippe! And you, Marthe!... And you
+too, my pretty Suzanne: once for myself and once for your father!...
+Don't cry, my child.... Daddy's all right.... They're coddling him like
+an emperor, over there ... until they let him go. And that's not far
+off. By Heaven, no! I hope the French government ..."
+
+He was talking like a drunken man, too fast and in an unsteady voice.
+His wife tried to make him sit down. He protested:
+
+"Rest? Quite unnecessary, mother. A Morestal never rests. My wounds?
+Scratches! What? The doctor? If he sets foot in this house, I'll chuck
+him out of the window!"
+
+"Still, you ought to take something...."
+
+"Take something? A glass of wine, if you like ... a glass of good French
+wine.... That's it, uncork a bottle.... We'll have a glass all round....
+Your health, Weisslicht!... Oh, what a joke!... When I think of the face
+of Weisslicht, the special commissary of the imperial government!... The
+prisoner's gone! The bird's flown!"
+
+He laughed loudly and, after drinking two glasses of wine, one on top of
+the other, he kissed the three women once more, kissed Philippe, called
+in Victor, Catherine, the gardener, shook hands with them, sent them
+away again and began to walk up and down the room, saying:
+
+"No time to be lost, children! I met the sergeant of gendarmes on the
+Saint-�lophe road. The authorities have been informed.... They can be
+here within half an hour. I want to present a report. Take a pen,
+Philippe."
+
+"What's much more important," protested his wife, "is that you should
+not excite yourself like this. Here, tell us all about it instead, quite
+calmly."
+
+Old Morestal was never known to refuse to talk. He therefore began his
+story, in short, slow sentences, as she wished, describing all the
+details of attack and all the incidents of the journey to B�rsweilen.
+But, carried away once more, he raised his voice, grew indignant, worked
+himself into a rage, burst into sarcasm:
+
+"Oh, they showed no lack of civility!... It was, 'Monsieur le
+commissaire sp�cial!... Monsieur le conseiller d'arrondissement!'...
+Weisslicht had his mouth crammed with our titles!... All the same, at
+one o'clock in the morning, we were safely locked up in two nice little
+rooms in the town-hall at B�rsweilen.... In quod, what!... With a
+probable indictment for complicity, espionage, high treason and the
+devil knows what hanging over our heads!... Only, in that case,
+gentlemen, you should not carry politeness so far as to release your
+captives from their handcuffs; and the windows of your cells ought not
+to be closed with bars too slight to be of any use; and you ought not to
+let one of your prisoners keep his pocket-knife. If you do, as long as
+that prisoner has any grit in him--and a file to his knife, by Jove!--he
+will try what he can do. And I did try, by Jingo! At four o'clock in the
+morning, after cutting the window-pane and filing or loosening four of
+the bars, old Morestal let himself down by a waste-pipe and took to his
+heels. Kind friends, farewell!... It was now only a question of getting
+home.... The Col du Diable? The Albern Woods? The Butte-aux-Loups? No
+such fool! The vermin were bound to be swarming on that side.... And, in
+fact, I heard the drums beating and the trumpets sounding the alarm and
+the horses galloping. They were hunting for me, of course!... But how
+could they have thought of hunting for me six miles away, in the Val de
+Sainte-Marie, right in the middle of the Forest of Arzance? And I
+trotted ... I trotted until I was simply done.... I crossed the border
+at eight o'clock, unseen and unknown. Morestal's foot was on his native
+heath! At ten o'clock, I saw the steeple of Saint-�lophe from the
+C�te-Blanche and I cut straight across, so as to get home quicker. And
+here I am! A bit tired, I admit, but quite presentable.... Well, what do
+you say to old Morestal now, eh?"
+
+He had stood up and, forgetting all about the fatigue of the night, was
+enlivening his discourse with a savage display of gesture which alarmed
+his wife.
+
+"And my poor father was not able to escape?" asked Suzanne.
+
+"No, they had taken care to search him," replied Morestal. "Besides,
+they watched him more closely than they did me ... so he could not do as
+I did...." And he added. "And a good job too! For I should have been
+left to languish in their prisons until the end of an interminable
+trial; whereas he, in forty-eight hours ... But this is all talk. The
+authorities can't be far away. I want to have my report ready. There are
+certain things which I suspect ... the business was a plot from start to
+finish...."
+
+He interrupted himself, as though startled by an unexpected thought, and
+sat for a long time motionless, with his head in his hands. Then,
+suddenly, he struck the table with his fist:
+
+"That's it! I understand the whole thing now! Upon my word, it's taken
+me long enough!"
+
+"What?" asked his wife.
+
+"Dourlowski, of course!"
+
+"Dourlowski?"
+
+"Why, yes! From the first minute, I guessed that it was a trap, a trap
+contrived by inferior police-agents. But how was it laid? I see it now.
+Dourlowski came here yesterday, on some pretext or other. He knew that
+Joranc� and I would take the frontier-road in the evening; and the
+passing of the deserter was contrived to take place at that moment, in
+connivance with the German detectives! One of them whistles as soon as
+we come up; and the soldier, who has been told, of course, that this
+whistle is a signal from the French accomplices, the soldier, whom
+Dourlowski or his confederates hold in a leash, like a dog, the soldier
+is let go. That's the whole mystery! It was not he, the poor wretch,
+whom they were after, but Joranc� and Morestal. Morestal, right enough,
+flies to the rescue of the fugitive. They collar him, they lay hold of
+Joranc�; and there we are, accomplices both. Bravo, gentlemen! Well
+played!"
+
+Mme. Morestal murmured:
+
+"But, I say, it might be a serious thing ..."
+
+"For Joranc�," he replied, "yes, because he is in custody; only--there
+is an 'only'--the pursuit of the deserter took place on French soil. We
+also were arrested on French soil. It was a flagrant violation of the
+frontier. So there's nothing to be afraid of."
+
+"You think so?" asked Suzanne. "You think that my father ...?"
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of," repeated Morestal. And he declared,
+positively, "I look upon Joranc� as free."
+
+"Tut, tut!" mumbled the old lady. "Things won't go so fast as that."
+
+"Once more, I look upon Joranc� as free and for this good reason, that
+the frontier has been violated."
+
+"Who will prove the violation?"
+
+"Who? Why, I, of course!... And Joranc�!... Do you think they'll doubt
+the word of honest men like us? Besides, there are other proofs. They
+will find the traces of the pursuit, the traces of the attack, the
+traces of the stand which we made. And who can tell? There may have been
+witnesses...."
+
+Marthe turned her eyes on Philippe. He was listening to his father, with
+a face so pale that she was astounded. She waited for a few seconds and
+then, seeing that he did not speak, she said:
+
+"There was a witness."
+
+Morestal started:
+
+"What's that, Marthe?"
+
+"Philippe was there."
+
+"Nonsense! We left Philippe at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch�ne, at the
+bottom of the hill, didn't we, Suzanne? You remained behind together."
+
+Philippe intervened, quickly:
+
+"Suzanne went off at once! and so did I ... but I had not gone two
+hundred yards when I turned back."
+
+"So that was why you did not answer when I called to you, half-way up
+the hill?"
+
+"I expect so. I went back to the Grand-Ch�ne."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To join you.... I was sorry I had left you."
+
+"Then you were behind us at the time of the attack?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In that case, of course, you heard the shots fired!... Let me see, you
+must have been on the Butte-aux-Loups...."
+
+"Somewhere near there...."
+
+"And perhaps you saw us.... From above!... With the moonlight!..."
+
+"Oh, no!" protested Philippe. "No, I saw nothing!"
+
+"But, if you heard the firing, you must certainly have heard Joranc�
+shouting.... They stuffed a gag into my mouth.... But Joranc� kept on
+roaring, 'We are in France! We are on French territory!' You heard
+Joranc� shouting, didn't you, now?"
+
+Philippe hesitated before making a reply of which he vaguely felt the
+tremendous importance. But, opposite him, he saw Marthe watching him
+with increasing surprise and, near Marthe, he saw Suzanne's drawn
+features. He said:
+
+"Yes, I heard him ... I heard him at a distance...."
+
+Old Morestal could not contain himself for joy. And, when he learnt
+besides that Philippe had received the last words of Baufeld the
+deserter, he burst out:
+
+"You saw him? He was alive? He told you that they had set a trap for us,
+didn't he?"
+
+"He mentioned the name of Dourlowski."
+
+"Capital! But our meeting with the soldier, the pursuit ... he must have
+told you that all this took place in France?"
+
+"Yes, I seemed to understand ..."
+
+"We've got them!" shouted Morestal. "We've got them! Of course, I was
+quite easy in my mind.... But all the same, Philippe's evidence, the
+declaration of the dying private.... Ah, the brigands, they'll have to
+let go their prey!... We were in France, kind friends! There has been a
+violation of the frontier!"
+
+Philippe saw that he had gone too far; and he objected:
+
+"My evidence is not evidence in the proper sense of the word.... As for
+the soldier, I could hardly make out ..."
+
+"We've got them, I tell you. The little that you were able to see, the
+little that you were able to hear all agrees with my own evidence, that
+is to say, with the truth. We've got them! And here come the gentlemen
+from the public prosecutor's office, who will be of my opinion, I bet
+you what you like! And it won't take long either! Joranc� will be free
+to-morrow."
+
+He dropped the pen, which he had taken up in order to write his report
+himself, and went quickly to the window, attracted by the sound of a
+motor-car sweeping round the garden-lawn:
+
+"The sub-prefect," he said. "By Jove, so the government know about it!
+The examining-magistrate and the prosecutor.... Ha, ha, they are not
+wasting any time, I see!... Quick, mother, have them shown in here....
+I'll be back in a minute: I must just put on a collar and change my
+jacket...."
+
+"Father!"
+
+Morestal stopped in the doorway:
+
+"What is it, my boy?" he asked.
+
+"I have something to say to you," said Philippe, resolutely.
+
+"All right. But it'll keep until presently, won't it?"
+
+"I have something to say to you now."
+
+"Oh! In that case, come along with me. Yes, you can give me a hand,
+instead of Victor, who is out."
+
+And, laughing, he went to his room.
+
+Marthe involuntarily took a few steps, as though she proposed to be
+present at the conversation. Philippe experienced a momentary
+embarrassment. Then he quickly made up his mind:
+
+"No, Marthe, you had better stay."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"No, once more, no. Excuse me. I will explain later...."
+
+And he followed his father.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+As soon as they were alone, Morestal, who was thinking much more about
+his evidence than about Philippe's words, asked, casually:
+
+"Is it private?"
+
+"Yes ... and very serious," Philippe declared.
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Very serious, as you will see in a moment, father.... It's about a
+position in which I find myself placed, a horrible position which I
+don't know how to get out of, unless ..."
+
+He went no further. Acting under an instinctive impulse, thrown off his
+balance by the arrival of the examining-magistrate and by a sudden
+vision of the events to come, he had appealed to his father. He wanted
+to speak, to say the words that would deliver him. What words? He did
+not quite know. But anything, anything rather than give false evidence
+and affix his signature to a lying deposition!
+
+He stammered at first, while his brain refused to act, seeking in vain
+for an acceptable solution. How was he to stop on the downward course
+along which he was being dragged by a combination of hostile forces,
+accidents, coincidences and implacable, trifling facts? How was he to
+break through the circle which a cruel fate was doing its utmost to
+trace around him?
+
+It suddenly burst in upon him that the only possible way out lay in
+proclaiming the immediate truth, in bluntly revealing his conduct.
+
+He shuddered with disgust. What! Accuse Suzanne! Was that the
+half-formed idea that inspired him, unknown to himself? Had he really
+thought of ruining her in order that he might be saved? It was now that
+he first realized the full nature of his predicament, for he would a
+thousand times rather have died than dishonour the girl, even in his
+father's eyes alone.
+
+Morestal, who had finished dressing, chaffed him:
+
+"Is that all you wanted to say?"
+
+"Yes.... I made a mistake," replied Philippe. "I thought ..."
+
+He was leaning on the window-rail and looked out inertly at the large
+sort of park formed by the clustering trees and the undulating meadows
+of the Vosges. He was now obsessed by other thoughts, which mingled with
+his own anxiety. He went back to old Morestal:
+
+"Are you quite sure that the arrest took place on French soil?"
+
+"Upon my word, you must be mad!"
+
+"It's possible that, without noticing it, you crossed the
+frontier-line...."
+
+"Yes ... exactly ... so we did. But, at the moment of the first attack
+and again at the moment of the arrest, we were in France. There is no
+doubt about that."
+
+"Just think, father, if there were the slightest doubt!..."
+
+"Well, what then? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that this incident will have further consequences. The affair
+will create a noise."
+
+"What do I care? The truth comes first, surely? Once we are in the
+right, we are bound to see that our rights are recognized and that
+Joranc� is released."
+
+Morestal planted himself firmly in front of his son:
+
+"You're of my way of thinking, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How do you mean, no?"
+
+"Listen, father: the circumstances seem to me to be very serious. The
+examining-magistrate's enquiry is most important. It will serve as a
+basis for later enquiries. It seems to me that we ought to reflect and
+give our evidence with a certain reserve, with caution.... We must
+behave prudently...."
+
+"We must behave like Frenchmen who are in the right," cried Morestal,
+"and who, when they are in the right, fear nobody and nothing in this
+world!"
+
+"Not even war?"
+
+"War! What are you talking about? War! But there can't be war over an
+incident like this! The way things are shaping, Germany will yield."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Philippe, who seemed relieved by this assertion.
+
+"Certainly! But on one condition, that we establish our right firmly.
+There has been a violation of the frontier. That is beyond dispute. Let
+us prove it; and every chance of a conflict is removed."
+
+"But, if we don't succeed in proving it?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Ah, in that case, it can't be helped!... Of course, they will dispute
+it. But have no fear, my boy: the proofs exist; and we can safely go
+ahead.... Come along, they're waiting for us downstairs...."
+
+He grasped the door-handle.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Look here, what's the matter with you to-day? Aren't you coming?"
+
+"No, not yet," said Philippe, who saw a way out and who was making a
+last effort to escape. "Presently.... I must absolutely tell you.... You
+and I start from a different point of view.... I have rather different
+ideas from yours ... and, as the occasion happens to present itself ..."
+
+"Impossible, my boy! They are waiting for us...."
+
+"You must hear me," cried Philippe, blocking the way. "I refuse to
+accept with a light heart a responsibility that is not in accordance
+with my present opinions; and that is why an explanation between us has
+become inevitable."
+
+Morestal looked at him with an air of amazement:
+
+"Your present opinions! Ideas different from mine! What's all this
+nonsense?"
+
+Philippe felt, even more clearly than on the day before, the violence of
+a conflict which a confession would provoke. But, this time, his resolve
+was taken. There were too many reasons urging him towards a breach which
+he considered necessary. With his mind and his whole frame palpitating
+with his tense will, he was about to utter the irrevocable words, when
+Marthe hurried into the room:
+
+"Don't keep your father, Philippe; the examining-magistrate is asking
+for him."
+
+"Ah!" said Morestal. "I am not sorry that you have come to release me,
+my dear Marthe. Your husband's crazy. He's been talking a string of
+nonsense these past ten minutes. What you want, my boy, is rest."
+
+Philippe made a slight movement. Marthe whispered:
+
+"Be quiet."
+
+And she said it in so imperious a tone that he was taken aback.
+
+Before leaving the room, Morestal walked to the window. Bugle-notes
+sounded in the distance and he leant out to hear them better.
+
+Marthe at once said to Philippe:
+
+"I came in on chance. I felt that you were seeking an explanation with
+your father."
+
+"Yes, I had to."
+
+"About your ideas, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, I must."
+
+"Your father is ill.... It's his heart.... A fit of anger might prove
+fatal ... especially after last night. Not a word, Philippe."
+
+At that moment, Morestal closed the window. He passed in front of them
+and then, turning and placing his hand on his son's shoulder, he
+murmured, in accents of restrained ardour:
+
+"Do you hear the enemy's bugle, over there? Ah, Philippe, I don't want
+it to become a war-song!... But, all the same, if it should ... if it
+should!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+At one o'clock on the afternoon of Tuesday the 2nd of September,
+Philippe, sitting opposite his father, before the pensive eyes of
+Marthe, before the anxious eyes of Suzanne, Philippe, after relating
+most minutely his conversation with the dying soldier, declared that he
+had heard at a distance the cries of protest uttered by Joranc�, the
+special commissary.
+
+Having made the declaration, he signed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ENQUIRIES
+
+
+The tragedy enacted that night and morning was so harsh, so virulent and
+so swift that it left the inmates of the Old Mill as though stunned.
+Instead of uniting them in a common emotion, it scattered them, giving
+each of them an impression of discomfort and uneasiness.
+
+In Philippe, this took the form of a state of torpor that kept him
+asleep until the next morning. He awoke, however, in excellent
+condition, but with an immense longing for solitude. In reality, he
+shrank from finding himself in the presence of his father and his wife.
+
+He went out, therefore, very early, across the woods and fields, stopped
+at an inn, climbed the Ballon de Vergix and did not come home until
+lunch-time. He was very calm by then and quite master of himself.
+
+To men like Philippe, men endowed with upright natures and generous
+minds, but not prone to waste time in reflecting upon the minor cases of
+conscience that arise in daily life, the sense of duty performed
+becomes, at critical periods, a sort of standard by which they judge
+their actions. This sense Philippe experienced in all its fulness.
+Placed by a series of abnormal circumstances between the necessity of
+betraying Suzanne or the necessity of swearing upon oath to a thing
+which he did not know, he felt that he was certainly entitled to lie.
+The lie seemed just and natural. He did not deny the fault which he had
+committed in succumbing to the young girl's fascinations and wiles: but,
+having committed the fault, he owed it to Suzanne to keep it secret,
+whatever the consequences of his discretion might be. There was no
+excuse that permitted him to break silence.
+
+He found, on the drawing-room table, the three newspapers which were
+taken at the Old Mill: the _�claireur des Vosges_; a Paris
+evening-paper; and the _B�rsweilener Zeitung_, a morning-paper printed
+in German, but French in tone and inspiration. A glance at these
+completely reassured him. Amid the confusion of the first reports
+devoted to the Joranc� case, his own part passed almost unnoticed. The
+_�claireur des Vosges_ summoned up his evidence in a couple of lines.
+When all was said, he was and would be no more than a supernumerary.
+
+"A walking gentleman, at the outside," he murmured, with satisfaction.
+
+"Yes, at the outside. It's your father and M. Joranc� who play the star
+parts."
+
+Marthe had entered and caught his last words, which he had spoken aloud,
+and was answering him with a laugh.
+
+She put her arm around his neck with the fond gesture usual to her and
+said:
+
+"Yes, Philippe, you need not worry yourself. Your evidence is of no
+importance and cannot influence events in any way. You can be very sure
+of that."
+
+Their faces were quite close together and Philippe read nothing but
+gaiety and affection in Marthe's eyes.
+
+He understood that she had ascribed his behaviour of the previous day,
+his first, false version, his reticence and his confusion to scruples of
+conscience and vague apprehensions. Anxious about the consequences of
+the business and dreading lest his testimony might complicate it, he had
+tried to avoid the annoyance of giving evidence.
+
+"I believe you're right," he said, with a view to confirming her in her
+mistake. "Besides, is the business so very serious?"
+
+They talked together for a few minutes and, gradually, while watching
+her, he changed the subject to the Joranc�s:
+
+"Has Suzanne been this morning?"
+
+Marthe appeared astonished:
+
+"Suzanne?" she said. "Don't you know?... Oh, of course, you were asleep
+last evening. Suzanne spent the night here."
+
+He turned aside his head, to hide the flush that spread over his
+features, and he said:
+
+"Oh, she slept here, did she?"
+
+"Yes. M. Morestal wishes her to stay with us until M. Joranc�'s return."
+
+"But ... but where is she now?..."
+
+"She is at B�rsweilen ... she has gone to ask for leave to see her
+father."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"No, Victor went with her."
+
+With an air of indifference, Philippe asked:
+
+"How is she? Depressed?"
+
+"Very much depressed.... I don't know why, but she imagines that it was
+her fault that her father was kidnapped.... She says she urged him to go
+for that walk!... Poor Suzanne, what interest could she have in
+remaining alone?..."
+
+He plainly perceived, from his wife's voice and attitude, that, although
+certain coincidences had surprised her, her mind had not been touched by
+the shadow of a suspicion. On that side, everything was over. The danger
+was averted.
+
+Happily released from his fears, Philippe had the further satisfaction
+of learning that his father had spent a very good night and that he had
+gone to the town-hall at Saint-�lophe. He questioned his mother. Mme.
+Morestal, yielding like Philippe to that desire for assuagement and
+security which comes over us after any great shock, reassured him on the
+subject of the old man's health. Certainly, there was something the
+matter with the heart: Dr. Borel insisted upon his leading the most
+regular and monotonous life. But Dr. Borel always looked at the dark
+side of things; and, all considered, Morestal had borne the fatigue
+attendant on his capture and escape, hard though it was, very well
+indeed.
+
+"Besides, you have only to look at him," she concluded. "Here he comes,
+back from Saint-�lophe."
+
+They saw him alight from the carriage with the brisk and springy step of
+a young man. He joined them in the drawing-room and at once cried:
+
+"Oh, what an uproar! I've telephoned to town.... They're talking of
+nothing else.... And who do you think swooped down upon me at
+Saint-�lophe? Quite half-a-dozen reporters! I sent them away with a flea
+in their ears! A set of fellows who make mischief wherever they go and
+who arrange everything as it suits them!... They're the scourge of our
+time!... I shall give Catherine formal orders that no one is to be
+admitted to the Old Mill.... Why, did you see how they report my
+escape? I'm supposed to have strangled the sentry and to have made a
+couple of Uhlans who pursued me bite the dust!..."
+
+He could not succeed in concealing his satisfaction and drew himself to
+his full height, like a man who sees nothing astonishing in an exploit
+of that kind.
+
+Philippe asked.
+
+"And what is the general feeling?"
+
+"Just what the papers say. Joranc�'s release is imminent. I told you as
+much. The more we assert ourselves, as we have every right to do, the
+sooner the thing will be over. You must understand that friend Joranc�
+is being examined at this moment and that he is giving exactly the same
+replies that I did. So you see!... No, once more, Germany will give way.
+It is only a question of a day or two. So don't upset yourself, my boy,
+since you're so afraid of war ... and the responsibilities attaching to
+it!..."
+
+This, when all was said and done, was the motive to which he, like
+Marthe, ascribed the incoherent words which Philippe had uttered
+previous to his appearance before the magistrates; and, without going
+deeper into the matter, it gave him, on his side, a certain sense of
+anger, mingled with a mild contempt. Philippe Morestal, old Morestal's
+son, afraid of war! He was one more corrupted by the Paris poison!...
+
+Lunch was very lively. The old man never ceased talking. His
+good-humour, his optimism, his steady belief in a favourable and
+immediate solution overcame every resistance; and Philippe himself was
+glad to share a conviction that delighted him.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The afternoon was continued under equally propitious auspices. Morestal
+and Philippe were sent for to the frontier, where, in the presence of
+the public prosecutor, the sub-prefect, the sergeant of gendarmes and a
+number of journalists whom they tried in vain to send away, the
+examining-magistrate carefully completed the investigations which he had
+begun the day before. Morestal had to repeat the story of the aggression
+on the spot where it occurred, to point definitely to the road followed
+before the attack and during the flight, to fix the place where Private
+Baufeld had crossed the frontier-line and the place where the commissary
+and himself were arrested.
+
+He did so without hesitation, walking to and fro, talking and making his
+statements so positively, so logically and so sincerely that the scene,
+as pictured by him, lived again before the spectators' eyes. His
+demonstration was lucid and commanding. Here, the first shot was fired.
+There, a sharp divergence to the right, on German territory. Here, back
+in France and, further on, at that exact spot, fifteen yards on this
+side of the frontier, the scene of the fight, the place of the arrest.
+Indications, undeniable indications, abounded. It was the truth, with no
+possible fear of a mistake.
+
+Philippe was carried away and categorically confirmed his original
+declaration. He had heard the special commissary shouting, as he
+approached the Butte-aux-Loups. The words, "We are in France!... There
+is the frontier!" had reached him distinctly. And he described his
+search, his conversation with Private Baufeld and the wounded man's
+evidence concerning the encroachment on French territory.
+
+The enquiry ended with a piece of good news. On Monday, a few hours
+before the attack, Farmer Saboureux was said to have seen Weisslicht,
+the chief of the German detectives, and a certain Dourlowski, a hawker,
+walking in the woods and trying to keep hidden. Now Morestal, without
+confessing the relations that existed between him and that individual,
+had nevertheless spoken of the visit of this Dourlowski and of his
+proposal that the witness should act as an accomplice. An understanding
+between Dourlowski and Weisslicht was a proof that an ambush had been
+laid and that the passing of Private Baufeld across the frontier,
+arranged for half-past ten, was only a pretext to catch the special
+commissary and his friend in a trap.
+
+The magistrates made no secret of their satisfaction. The Joranc� case,
+a plot hatched by subordinate officials of police, whom the imperial
+government would not hesitate to disown was becoming rapidly reduced to
+the proportions of an incident which would lead to nothing and be
+forgotten on the morrow.
+
+"That's all right," said Morestal, walking away with his son, while the
+magistrates went on to Saboureux's Farm. "It will be an even simpler
+matter than I hoped. The French government will know the results of the
+enquiry this evening. There will be an exchange of views with the German
+embassy; and to-morrow ..."
+
+"Do you think so?..."
+
+"I go further. I believe that Germany will make the first advance."
+
+As they came to the Col du Diable, they passed a small company of men
+headed by one in a gold-laced cap.
+
+Morestal took off his hat with a flourish and grinned:
+
+"Good-afternoon!... I hope I see you well!"
+
+The man passed without speaking.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Weisslicht, the chief of the detectives."
+
+"And the others?"
+
+"The others?... It's the Germans making their investigation."
+
+It was then four o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The remainder of that day passed peacefully at the Old Mill. Suzanne
+arrived from B�rsweilen at nightfall, looking radiant. They had given
+her a letter from her father and she would be authorized to see him on
+Saturday.
+
+"You will not even have to go back to B�rsweilen," said Morestal. "Your
+father will come to fetch you here, won't he, Philippe?"
+
+Dinner brought them all five together under the family lamp; and they
+experienced a feeling of relaxation, comfort and repose. They drank to
+the special commissary's health. And it seemed to them as if his place
+were not even empty, so great was the certainty with which they expected
+his return.
+
+Philippe was the only one who did not share in the general gaiety.
+Sitting beside Marthe and opposite Suzanne, he was bound, with his
+upright nature and his sane judgment, to suffer at finding himself
+situated in such a false position. Since the night before last, since
+the moment when he had left Suzanne while the dawning light of day stole
+into her room at Saint-�lophe, this was the first instant that he had
+had any sort of time to conjure up the memory of those unnerving hours.
+Alarmed by the course of events, obsessed by his anxiety about the way
+in which he was to act, his one and only thought of Suzanne had been how
+not to compromise her.
+
+Now, he saw her before him. He heard her laugh and talk. She lived in
+his presence, not as he had known her in Paris and found her at
+Saint-�lophe, but adorned with a different charm, of which he knew the
+mysterious secret. True, he remained master of himself and he clearly
+felt that no temptation would induce him to succumb a second time. But
+could he help it that she had fair hair, the colour of which bewitched
+him, and quivering lips and a voice melodious as a song? And could he
+help it that all this filled him with an emotion which every minute that
+passed made more profound?
+
+Their eyes met. Suzanne trembled under Philippe's gaze. A sort of
+bashfulness decked her as with a veil that gives added beauty to its
+wearer. She was as desirable as a wife and as winsome as a bride.
+
+At that moment, Marthe smiled to Philippe. He turned red and thought:
+
+"I shall go away to-morrow."
+
+His decision was taken then and there. He would not remain a day longer
+between the two women. The mere sight of their intimacy was hateful to
+him. He would go away without a word. He knew the danger of
+leave-takings between people who love, knew how they soften us and
+disarm us. He wanted none of those compromises and evasions. Temptation,
+even if we resist it, is a fault in itself.
+
+When dinner was over, he stood up and went to his bedroom, where Marthe
+joined him. He learnt from her that Suzanne's room was on the same
+floor. Later, he heard the young girl come upstairs. But he knew that
+nothing would make him fall again.
+
+As soon as he was alone, he opened his window, sat a long time staring
+at the vague outlines of the trees, then undressed and went to bed.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In the morning, Marthe brought him his letters. He at once recognized
+the writing of a friend on one of the envelopes:
+
+"Good!" he said, jumping at the pretext. "A letter from Pierre Belum. I
+hope it's not to tell me to come back!"
+
+He opened the letter and, after reading it, said:
+
+"It's as I feared! I shall have to go."
+
+"Not before this evening, my boy."
+
+It was old Morestal, who had entered the room with an open letter in his
+hand.
+
+"What's the matter, father?"
+
+"We are specially summoned to appear before the Prefect of the Vosges in
+the town-hall at Saint-�lophe."
+
+"I too?"
+
+"You too. They want to verify certain points in your deposition."
+
+"So they are beginning all over again?"
+
+"Yes, it's a fresh enquiry. It appears that things are becoming
+complicated."
+
+"What are you saying?"
+
+"I am saying what this morning's papers say. According to the latest
+telegrams, Germany has no intention of releasing Joranc�. Moreover,
+there have been manifestations in Paris. Berlin also is stirring. The
+yellow press are adopting an arrogant tone. In short ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, the matter is taking a very nasty turn."
+
+Philippe gave a start. He walked up to his father and, yielding to a
+sudden fit of anger:
+
+"There! Which of us was right? You see, you see what's happening now!
+If you had listened to me ..."
+
+"If I had listened to you?..." echoed Morestal, emphasizing each word
+and at once preparing for a quarrel.
+
+But Philippe restrained himself. Marthe made a remark or two at random.
+And then all three were silent.
+
+Besides, of what use was speech? The thunderstorm had passed over their
+heads and was rumbling over France. Henceforward powerless, they must
+undergo its consequences and hear its distant echoes without being able
+to influence the formidable elements that had been let loose during that
+Monday night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE THUNDERCLAP
+
+
+The German argument was simple enough: the arrest had taken place in
+Germany. At least, that was what the newspapers stated in the extracts
+which Philippe and his father read in the _B�rsweilener Zeitung_. Was it
+not to be expected that this would be the argument eventually
+adopted--if it was not adopted already--by the imperial government?
+
+At B�rsweilen--the _Zeitung_ made no mystery about it--people were very
+positive. After twenty-four hours' silence, the authorities took their
+stand upon the explanation given the day before by Weisslicht, in the
+course of an enquiry attended by several functionaries, who were
+mentioned by name; and they declared aloud that everything had taken
+place in due form and that it was impossible to go back upon
+accomplished facts. Special Commissary Joranc� and Councillor Morestal,
+caught in the act of assisting a deserter, would be brought before the
+German courts and their case tried in accordance with German law.
+Besides, it was added, there were other charges against them.
+
+Of Dourlowski, there was no mention. He was ignored.
+
+"But the whole case depends upon him!" exclaimed Morestal, after
+receiving the Prefect of the Vosges at the Saint-�lophe town-hall and
+discussing the German argument with him and the examining-magistrate.
+"The whole case depends upon him, monsieur le pr�fet. Even supposing
+their argument to be correct, what is it worth, if we prove that we were
+drawn into an ambush by Weisslicht and that Baufeld's desertion was a
+got-up job contrived by subordinate officials of police? And the proof
+of this rests upon Dourlowski!"
+
+He was indignant at the hawker's disappearance. But he added:
+
+"Fortunately, we have Farmer Saboureux's evidence."
+
+"We had it yesterday," said the examining-magistrate, "but we haven't it
+to-day."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Yesterday, Wednesday, when I was questioning him, Farmer Saboureux
+declared that he had seen Weisslicht and Dourlowski together. He even
+used certain words which made me suspect that he had noticed the
+preparations for the attack and that he was an unseen witness of it ...
+and a valuable witness, as you will agree. This morning, Thursday, he
+retracts, he is not sure that it was Weisslicht he saw and, at night, he
+was asleep ... he heard nothing ... not even the shooting.... And he
+lives at five hundred yards from the spot!"
+
+"I never heard of such a thing! What does he mean by backing out like
+that?"
+
+"I can't say," replied the magistrate. "Still, I saw a copy of the
+_B�rsweilener Zeitung_ sticking out of his pocket ... things have
+altered since yesterday ... and Saboureux has been reflecting...."
+
+"Do you think so? Is he afraid of war?"
+
+"Yes, afraid of reprisals. He told me an old story about Uhlans, about a
+farm that was burnt down. So that's what it is: he's afraid!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The day began badly. Morestal and his son walked silently by the old
+road to the frontier, where the enquiry was resumed in detail. But, at
+the Butte, they saw three men in gold-laced caps smoking their pipes by
+the German frontier-post.
+
+And, further on, at the foot of the slope, in a sort of clearing on the
+left, they perceived two more, lying flat on their stomachs, who were
+also smoking.
+
+And, around these two, there were a number of freshly-painted
+black-and-yellow stakes, driven into the ground in a circle and roped
+together.
+
+In reply to a question put to them, the men said that that was the place
+where Commissary Joranc� had been arrested.
+
+Now this place, adopted by the hostile enquiry, was on German territory
+and at twenty yards beyond the road that marked the dividing-line
+between the two countries!
+
+Philippe had to drag his father away. Old Morestal was choking with
+rage:
+
+"They are lying! They are lying! It's scandalous.... And they know it!
+Is it likely I should be mistaken? Why, I belong here! Whereas they ...
+a pack of police-spies!..."
+
+When he had grown calmer, he began his explanations over again. Philippe
+next repeated his, in less definite terms, this time, and with a
+hesitation which old Morestal, absorbed in his grievances, did not
+observe, but which could not well escape the others.
+
+The father and son returned to the Old Mill together, as on the day
+before. Morestal was no longer so triumphant and Philippe thought of
+Farmer Saboureux, who, warned by his peasant shrewdness, varied his
+evidence according to the threat of possible events.
+
+As soon as he reached home, he took refuge in his room. Marthe went up
+to him and found him lying on the bed, with his head between his hands.
+He would not even answer when she spoke to him. But, at four o'clock,
+hearing that his father, eager for news, had ordered the carriage, he
+went downstairs.
+
+They drove to Saint-�lophe and then, growing more and more anxious, to
+Noirmont, twelve miles beyond it, where Morestal had many friends. One
+of these took them to the offices of the _�claireur_.
+
+Here, nothing was known as yet: the telegraph-and telephone-wires were
+blocked. But, at eight o'clock, a first telegram got through: groups of
+people had raised manifestations outside the German embassy. On the
+Place de la Concorde, the statue of the city of Strasburg was covered
+with flags and flowers.
+
+Then the telegrams flowed in.
+
+Questioned in the Chamber, the prime minister had replied, amid the
+applause of the whole house:
+
+"We ask, we claim your absolute confidence, your blind confidence. If
+some of you refuse it to the minister, at least grant it to the
+Frenchman. For it is a Frenchman who speaks in your name. And it is a
+Frenchman who will act."
+
+In the lobby outside the house, a member of the opposition had begun to
+sing the _Marseillaise_, which was taken up by all the rest of the
+members in chorus.
+
+And then there was the other side of the question: telegrams from
+Germany; the yellow press rabid; all the evening-papers adopting an
+uncompromising, aggressive attitude; Berlin in uproar....
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+They drove back at midnight; and, although they were both seized with a
+like emotion, it aroused in them ideas so different that they did not
+exchange a word. Morestal himself, who was not aware of the divorce that
+had taken place between their minds, dared not indulge in his usual
+speeches.
+
+The next morning, the _B�rsweilener Zeitung_ announced movements of
+troops towards the frontier. The emperor, who was cruising in the North
+Sea, had landed at Ostende. The chancellor was waiting for him at
+Cologne. And it was thought that the French ambassador had also gone to
+meet him.
+
+Thenceforward, throughout that Friday and the following Saturday, the
+inmates of the Old Mill lived in a horrible nightmare. The storm was now
+shaking the whole of France and Germany, the whole of quivering Europe.
+They heard it roar. The earth cracked under its fury. What terrible
+catastrophe would it produce?
+
+And they, who had let it loose--the actors of no account, relegated to
+the background, the supernumeraries whose parts were played--they could
+see nothing of the spectacle but distant, blood-red gleams.
+
+Philippe took refuge in a fierce silence that distressed his wife.
+Morestal was nervous, excited and in an execrable temper. He went out
+for no reason, came in again at once, could not keep still:
+
+"Ah," he cried, in a moment of despondency in which his thoughts stood
+plainly revealed, "why did we come home by the frontier? Why did I help
+that deserter? For there's no denying it: if I hadn't helped him,
+nothing would have happened."
+
+On Friday evening, it became known that the chancellor, who already had
+the German reports in his hands, now possessed the French papers, which
+had been communicated by our ambassador. The affair, hitherto purely
+administrative, was becoming diplomatic. And the government was
+demanding the release of the special commissary of Saint-�lophe, who had
+been arrested on French territory.
+
+"If they consent, all will be well," said Morestal. "There is no
+humiliation for Germany in disowning the action of a pack of minor
+officials. But, if they refuse, if they believe the policemen's lies,
+what will happen then? France cannot give way."
+
+On Saturday morning, the _B�rsweilener Zeitung_ printed the following
+short paragraph in a special edition:
+
+
+     "After making a careful examination of the French papers, the
+     chancellor has returned them to the French ambassador. The case of
+     Commissary Joranc�, accused of the crime of high treason and
+     arrested on German territory, will be tried in the German courts."
+
+
+It was a refusal.
+
+That morning, Morestal took his son to the Col du Diable and, bent in
+two, following the road to the Butte-aux-Loups step by step, examining
+each winding turn, noting a big root here and a long branch there, he
+reconstituted the plan of the attack. And he showed Philippe the trees
+against which he had brushed in his flight and the trees at the foot of
+which he and his friend had stood and defended themselves:
+
+"It was there, Philippe, and nowhere else.... Do you see that little
+open space? That's where it was.... I have often come and smoked my pipe
+here, because of this little mound to sit upon.... That's the place!"
+
+He sat down on the same mound and said no more, staring before him,
+while Philippe looked at him. Several times, he repeated, between his
+teeth:
+
+"Yes, this is certainly the place.... How could I be mistaken?"
+
+And, suddenly, he pressed his two fists to his temples and blurted out:
+
+"Still, suppose I were mistaken! Suppose I had branched off more to the
+right ... and ..."
+
+He interrupted himself, cast his eyes around him, rising to his feet:
+
+"It's impossible! One can't make as big a blunder as that, short of
+being mad! How could I have? I was thinking of one thing only; I kept
+saying to myself, 'I must remain in France, I must keep to the left of
+the line.' And I did keep to it, hang it all! It is absolutely
+certain.... What then? Am I to deny the truth in order to please them?"
+
+And Philippe, who had never ceased watching him, replied, within
+himself:
+
+"Why not, father? What would that little falsehood signify, compared
+with the magnificent result that would be obtained? If you would tell a
+lie, father, or if only you would assert so fatal a truth less forcibly,
+France could give way without the least disgrace, since it is your
+evidence alone that compels her to make her demand! And, in this way,
+you would have saved your country...."
+
+But he did not speak. His father was guided by a conception of duty
+which Philippe knew to be as lofty and as legitimate as his own. What
+right had he to expect his father to act according to his, Philippe's,
+conscience? What to one of them would be only a fib would be to the
+other, to old Morestal, a criminal betrayal of his own side. Morestal,
+when giving his evidence, was speaking in the name of France. And France
+does not tell lies.
+
+"If there is a possible solution," Philippe said to himself, "my father
+is not the man to be asked to provide it. My father represents a mass of
+intangible ideas, principles and traditions. But I, I, I ... what can I
+do? What is my particular duty? What is the object for which I ought to
+make in spite of every obstacle?"
+
+Twenty times over, he was on the point of exclaiming:
+
+"My evidence was false, father. I was not there. I was with Suzanne!"
+
+What was the use? It meant dishonouring Suzanne; and the implacable
+march of events would continue just the same. Now that was the only
+thing that mattered. Every individual suffering, every attack of
+conscience, every theory, all vanished before the tremendous catastrophe
+with which humanity was threatened and before the task that devolved
+upon men like himself, men emancipated from the past and free to act in
+accordance with a new conception of duty.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In the afternoon, they heard at the offices of the _�claireur_ that a
+bomb had burst behind the German ambassador's motor-car in Paris. In the
+Latin Quarter, the ferment was at its height. Two Germans had been
+roughly handled and a Russian, accused of spying, had been knocked down.
+There had been free fights at Lyons, Toulouse and Bordeaux.
+
+Similar disorders had taken place in Berlin and in the other big towns
+of the German Empire. The military party was directing the movement.
+
+Lastly, at six o'clock, it was announced as certain that Germany was
+mobilizing three army-corps.
+
+A tragic evening was spent at the Old Mill. Suzanne arrived from
+B�rsweilen without having been allowed to see her father and added to
+the general distress by her sobs and lamentations. Morestal and
+Philippe, silent and fever-eyed, seemed to avoid each other. Marthe, who
+suspected her husband's anguish, kept her eyes fixed upon him, as though
+she feared some inconsiderate act on his part. And the same dread seemed
+to trouble Mme. Morestal, for she warned Philippe, time after time:
+
+"Whatever you do, no arguments with your father. He is not well. All
+this business upsets him quite enough as it is. A quarrel between the
+two of you would be terrible."
+
+And this also, the idea of this illness of which he did not know the
+exact nature, but to which his heated imagination lent an added
+importance, this also tortured Philippe.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+They all rose on the Sunday morning with the certainty that the news of
+war would reach them in the course of the day; and old Morestal was on
+the point of leaving for Saint-�lophe, to make the necessary
+arrangements in case of an alarm, when a ring of the telephone stopped
+him. It was the sub-prefect at Noirmont, who conveyed a fresh order to
+him from the prefecture. The two Morestals were to be at the
+Butte-aux-Loups at twelve o'clock.
+
+A moment later, a telegram that appeared at the top of the front page of
+the _�claireur des Vosges_ told them the meaning of this third summons:
+
+
+     "The German ambassador called on the prime minister at ten o'clock
+     yesterday, Saturday, evening. After a long conversation, when on
+     the point of concluding an interview that seemed unable to lead to
+     any result, the ambassador received by express a personal note
+     from the emperor, which he at once handed to the prime minister. In
+     this note, the emperor proposed a renewed examination of the
+     affair, for which purpose he would delegate the Governor of
+     Alsace-Lorraine, with instructions to check the report of the
+     police. An understanding was at once arrived at on this basis; and
+     the French government has appointed a member of the cabinet, M. Le
+     Corbier, under-secretary of state for home affairs, to act as its
+     representative. It is possible that an interview may take place
+     between these two prominent personages."
+
+
+And the newspaper added:
+
+
+     "This intervention on the part of the emperor is a proof of his
+     peaceful intentions, but it can hardly be said to alter the
+     situation. If France be in the wrong--and it were almost to be
+     hoped that she may be--then France will yield. But, if it be once
+     more proved on our side that the arrest took place on French soil
+     and if Germany refuse to yield, what will happen then?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BUTTE-AUX-LOUPS
+
+
+Whatever might be the eventual outcome of this last effort, it was a
+respite granted to the two nations. It gave a gleam of hope, it left a
+loop-hole, a chance of an arrangement.
+
+And old Morestal, seized with fresh confidence and already triumphant,
+rejoiced, as he could not fail to do:
+
+"Why, of course," he concluded, "it will all be settled! Didn't I tell
+you so from the beginning, Philippe? It only wanted a little
+firmness.... We have spoken clearly; and, at once, under a show of
+conciliation which will deceive no one, the enemy forms a plan of
+retreat. For, mark you, that's all that it means...."
+
+And, as he continued to read the paper, he exclaimed:
+
+"Ah, just so!... I understand!... Listen, Philippe, to this little
+telegram, which sounds like nothing at all: 'England has recalled her
+squadrons from foreign waters and is concentrating them in the Channel
+and in the North Sea.' Aha, that solves the mystery! They have
+reflected ... and reflection is the mother of wisdom.... And here,
+Philippe, this other telegram, which is worth noting: 'Three hundred
+French aviators, from every part of France, have responded to the
+rousing appeal issued by Captain L�riot of the territorials, the hero of
+the Channel crossing. They will all be at Ch�lons camp on Tuesday, with
+their aeroplanes!'... Ha, what do you say to that, my boy? On the one
+side, the British fleet.... On the other side, our air fleet.... Wipe
+your pretty eyes, my sweet Suzanne, and get supper ready this evening
+for Papa Joranc�! Ah, this time, mother, we'll drink champagne!"
+
+His gaiety sounded a little forced and found no echo in his hearers.
+Philippe remained silent, with his forehead streaked with a wrinkle
+which Marthe knew well. From his appearance, from the tired look of his
+eyelids, she felt certain that he had sat up all night, examining the
+position from every point of view and seeking the best road to follow.
+Had he taken a resolution? And, if so, which? He seemed so hard, so
+stern, so close and reticent that she dared not ask him.
+
+After a hastily-served meal, Morestal, on the receipt of a second
+telephonic communication, hurried off to Saint-�lophe, where M. Le
+Corbier, the under-secretary of state, was waiting for him.
+
+Philippe, the time of whose summons had been postponed, went to his
+room and locked himself in.
+
+When he came down again, he found Marthe and Suzanne, who had decided to
+go with him. Mme. Morestal took him aside and, for the last time, urged
+him to look after his father.
+
+The three of them walked away to the Col du Diable. A lowering sky,
+heavy with clouds, hung over the mountain-tops; but the weather was mild
+and the swards, studded with trees, still wore a look of summer.
+
+Marthe, to break the silence, said:
+
+"There is something soft and peaceful about the air to-day. That's a
+good sign. It will influence the people who are conducting the enquiry.
+For everything depends upon their humour, their impression, the state of
+their nerves, does it not, Philippe?"
+
+"Yes," he said, "everything depends on them."
+
+She continued:
+
+"I don't think that they will ask you any questions. Your evidence is of
+such little importance. You see, the papers hardly mention it....
+Except, of course, in so far as Dourlowski is concerned.... As for him,
+they haven't found him yet...."
+
+Philippe did not reply. Had he as much as heard? With short movements of
+his stick, he was striking the heads off the flowers that lined the
+road: harebells, wild thyme, gentians, angelica. Marthe remembered that
+this was a trick which he used to condemn in his sons.
+
+Before coming to the pass, the road narrowed into a path that wound
+through the woods, clinging to the roots of the fir-trees. They climbed
+it one behind the other. Marthe was in front of Philippe and Suzanne.
+Half-way up, the path made a sudden bend. When Marthe was out of sight,
+Philippe felt Suzanne's hand squeeze his and hold him back.
+
+He stopped. She nimbly pulled herself up to him:
+
+"Philippe, you are sad.... It's not about me, is it?"
+
+"No," he confessed, frankly.
+
+"I knew it," she said, without bitterness. "So much has happened these
+last three days!... I no longer count with you."
+
+He made no attempt at protest, for it was true. He thought of her
+sometimes, but in a casual way, as of a woman whom one loves, whom one
+covets, but whom one has no time to think about. He did not even analyze
+his feelings. They were mixed up with all the other troubles that
+overwhelmed him.
+
+"I shall never forget you, Suzanne," he said.
+
+"I know, Philippe. And I neither, I shall never forget you.... Only, I
+wanted to tell you this, which will give you a little happiness:
+Philippe, I give you my promise that I will face the life before me ...
+that I will make a fresh start.... What I told you is happening within
+me.... I have more courage now that I ... now that I have that memory to
+support me.... You have given me happiness enough to last me all my
+life.... I shall be what I should not have been ... an honest woman....
+I swear it, Philippe ... and a good wife...."
+
+He understood that she meant to be married and he suffered at the
+thought. But he said to her, gently, after looking at her lips, her bare
+neck, her whole charming, fragrant and tantalizing person:
+
+"Thank you, Suzanne.... It is the best proof of your love.... I thank
+you."
+
+She went on to say to him:
+
+"And then, Philippe, you see, I don't want to give my father pain....
+Any one can feel that he has been very unhappy.... And the reason why I
+was afraid, the other morning, that Marthe might discover the truth ...
+was because of him."
+
+"You need not fear, Suzanne."
+
+"I need not, need I?" she said. "There is no danger of it.... And yet,
+this enquiry.... If you were compelled to confess?..."
+
+"Oh, Suzanne, how can you think it?"
+
+Their eyes mingled fondly, their hands had not parted. Philippe would
+have liked to speak affectionate words and especially to say how much he
+hoped that she would be happy. But no words rose to his lips save words
+of love; and he would not....
+
+She gave a smile. A tear shone at the tip of her lashes. She stammered:
+
+"I love you.... I shall always love you."
+
+Then she released her hand.
+
+Marthe, who had turned back, saw them standing together, motionless.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+When they emerged at the corner of the Albern Path, they saw a group of
+journalists and sightseers gathered behind half-a-dozen gendarmes. The
+whole road was thus guarded, as far as the Saint-�lophe rise. And, on
+the right, German gendarmes stood posted at intervals.
+
+They reached the Butte. The Butte is a large round clearing, on almost
+level ground, surrounded by a circle of ancestral trees arranged like
+the colonnade of a temple. The road, a neutral zone, seven feet wide,
+runs through the middle.
+
+On the west, the French frontier-post, in plain black cast-iron and
+bearing a slab with directions, like a sign-post.
+
+On the east, the German post, in wood painted with a black and white
+spiral and surmounted by an escutcheon with the words, "_Deutsches
+Reich_."
+
+Two military tents had been pitched for the double enquiry and were
+separated by a space of fifty or sixty yards. Above each waved the flag
+of its respective country. A soldier was on guard outside either tent: a
+Prussian infantryman, helmet on head, shin-strap buckled; an Alpine
+rifleman, bonneted and gaitered. Each stood with his rifle at the order.
+
+Not far from them, on either side of the clearing, were two little camps
+pitched among the trees: French soldiers, German soldiers. And the
+officers formed two groups.
+
+French and German horizons showed in the mist between the branches.
+
+"You see, Marthe, you see," whispered Philippe, whose heart was gripped
+with emotion. "Isn't it terrible?"
+
+"Yes, yes," she said.
+
+But a young man came towards them, carrying under his arm a portfolio
+bulging with papers:
+
+"M. Philippe Morestal, I believe? I am M. de Tr�bons, attached to the
+department of the under-secretary of state. M. Le Corbier is talking to
+M. Morestal your father and begs that you will be good enough to wait."
+
+He took him, with Marthe and Suzanne, to the French camp, where they
+found, seated on a bench, Farmer Saboureux and Old Poussi�re, who had
+likewise been summoned as witnesses. From there, they commanded the
+whole circus of the Butte.
+
+"How pale you look, Philippe!" said Marthe. "Are you ill?"
+
+"No," he said. "Please don't worry me."
+
+Half an hour passed. Then the canvas fly that closed the German tent was
+lifted and a number of persons came out.
+
+Suzanne gave a stifled cry:
+
+"Papa!... Look ... Oh, my poor father!... I must go and kiss him...."
+
+Philippe held her back and she obeyed, feebly. Joranc�, besides, had
+disappeared, had been led by two gendarmes to the other camp; and
+Weisslicht the detective and his men were now being shown into the tent.
+
+But the French tent opened, an instant after, to let old Morestal out.
+M. de Tr�bons was with him and went back with Saboureux and Old
+Poussi�re. All this coming and going seemed to take place by rule and
+was effected in great silence, interrupted only by the sound of the
+footsteps.
+
+Morestal also was very pale. As Philippe put no question to him, Marthe
+asked:
+
+"Are you satisfied, father?"
+
+"Yes, we began all over again from the start. I gave all my explanations
+on the spot. My proofs and arguments have made an impression on him. He
+is a serious man and he acts with great prudence."
+
+In a few minutes, M. de Tr�bons returned with Saboureux and Old
+Poussi�re. Farmer Saboureux continued disputing, in a state of great
+excitement:
+
+"Hope they've finished this time! That makes three of them enquiring
+into me!... What do they want with me, after all? When I keep on telling
+everybody that I was fast asleep.... And Poussi�re too.... Isn't it so,
+Poussi�re, you and I saw none of it?"
+
+And, suddenly seizing M. de Tr�bons by the arm, he said, in a choking
+voice:
+
+"I say, there's not going to be a war, is there? Ah, no, we can't do
+with that! You can tell your gentry in Paris that we don't want it....
+Oh, no, I've toiled enough as it is! War indeed! Uhlans burning
+everything!..."
+
+He seemed terrified. His bony old hands clutched M. de Tr�bons' arm and
+his little eyes glittered with rage.
+
+Old Poussi�re jerked his head and stammered:
+
+"Oh, no!... The Uhlans!... The Uhlans!..."
+
+M. de Tr�bons released himself gently and made them sit down. Then,
+going up to Marthe:
+
+"M. Le Corbier would be glad to see you, madame, at the same time as M.
+Philippe Morestal. And he also asks M. Morestal to be good enough to
+come back."
+
+The two Morestals and Marthe walked away, leaving Suzanne Joranc�
+behind.
+
+But, at that moment, a strange thing happened, which, no doubt, had its
+effect on the march of events. From the German tent issued Weisslicht
+and his men, followed by an officer in full uniform, who crossed the
+open space, went up to M. de Tr�bons and told him that his excellency
+the Statthalter, having completed his enquiries, would feel greatly
+honoured if he could have a short conversation with the under-secretary
+of state.
+
+M. de Tr�bons at once informed M. Le Corbier, who, escorted by the
+German officer, walked towards the road, while M. de Tr�bons showed the
+Morestal family in.
+
+The tent, which was a fairly large one, was furnished with a few chairs
+and a table, on which lay the papers dealing with the case. A page lay
+open bearing Saboureux's clumsy signature and the mark made by Old
+Poussi�re.
+
+The Morestals were sitting down, when a sound of voices struck their
+ears and, through the opening in the fly of the tent, they caught sight
+of a person in a general's uniform, very tall, very thin, looking like a
+bird of prey, but presenting a fine appearance in a long black tunic.
+With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he was striding along the road
+in the company of the under-secretary.
+
+Morestal whispered:
+
+"The Statthalter.... They have already had one meeting, an hour ago."
+
+The two men disappeared at the end of the Butte, then returned and, this
+time, doubtless embarrassed by the propinquity of the German officers,
+penetrated a few paces into French territory.
+
+A word, here and there, of the conversation reached the tent. Then the
+two speakers stood still and the Morestals distinctly heard the
+Statthalter's voice:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, my conclusion is necessarily different from
+yours, because all the police-officers who took part in the arrest are
+unanimous in declaring that it was effected on German soil."
+
+"Commissary Joranc� and M. Morestal," objected M. Le Corbier, "state the
+contrary."
+
+"They are alone in saying so."
+
+"M. Philippe Morestal took the evidence of Private Baufeld."
+
+"Private Baufeld was a deserter," retorted the Statthalter. "His
+evidence does not count."
+
+There was a pause. Then the German resumed, in terms which he picked
+slowly and carefully:
+
+"Therefore, monsieur le ministre, as there is no outside evidence in
+support of either of the two contradictory versions, I can find no
+argument that would tend to destroy the conclusions to which all the
+German enquiries have led. That is what I shall tell the emperor this
+evening."
+
+He bowed. M. Le Corbier took off his hat, hesitated a second and then,
+making up his mind:
+
+"One word more, your excellency. Before finally going back to Paris, I
+determined to call the Morestal family for the last time. I will ask
+your excellency if it would be possible for Commissary Joranc� to be
+present at the interview. I will answer for him on my honour."
+
+The Statthalter appeared embarrassed. The proposal evidently went beyond
+his powers. Nevertheless, he said, decisively:
+
+"You shall have your wish, monsieur le ministre. Commissary Joranc� is
+here, at your disposal."
+
+He clapped his heels together, raised his hand to his helmet and gave
+the military salute. The interview was ended.
+
+The German crossed the frontier. M. Le Corbier watched him walk away,
+stood for a moment in thought and then returned to the French tent.
+
+He was surprised to find the Morestals there. But he gave a gesture as
+though, after all, he was rather pleased than otherwise at this accident
+and he asked M. de Tr�bons:
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Then do not lose a moment, my dear Tr�bons. You will find my car at the
+bottom of the hill. Go to Saint-�lophe, telephone to the prime minister
+and communicate the German reply to him officially. It is urgent. There
+may be immediate measures to be taken ... with regard to the frontier."
+
+He said these last words in a low voice, with his eyes fixed on the two
+Morestals, went out with M. de Tr�bons and accompanied him as far as the
+French camp.
+
+A long silence followed upon his disappearance. Philippe, clenching his
+fists, blurted out:
+
+"It's terrible ... it's terrible...."
+
+And turning to his father:
+
+"You are quite sure, I suppose, of what you are swearing?... Of the
+exact place?..."
+
+Morestal shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Philippe insisted:
+
+"It was at night.... You may have made a mistake...."
+
+"No, no, I tell you, no," growled Morestal, angrily. "I know what I am
+talking about. You'll end by annoying me."
+
+Marthe tried to interfere:
+
+"Come, Philippe.... Your father is accustomed to ..."
+
+But Philippe caught her by the arm and, roughly:
+
+"Hold your tongue ... I won't allow it.... What do you know?... What are
+you meddling for?"
+
+He broke off suddenly, as though ashamed of his anger, and, in a fit of
+weakness and uncertainty, murmured an apology:
+
+"I beg your pardon, Marthe.... You too, father, forgive me.... Please
+forgive me.... There are situations in which we are bound to pardon one
+another for all the pain that we can give one another."
+
+Judging by the contraction of his features, one would have thought that
+he was on the verge of crying, like a child trying to restrain its tears
+and failing in the effort.
+
+Morestal stared at him in amazement. His wife looked at him aslant and
+felt fear rising within her, as at the approach of a great calamity.
+
+But the tent opened once more. M. Le Corbier entered. Special
+Commissary Joranc�, who had been brought to the French camp by the
+German gendarmes, was with him.
+
+Joranc� simply nodded to the Morestals and asked:
+
+"Suzanne?"
+
+"She is well," said Marthe.
+
+Meanwhile, Le Corbier had sat down and was turning over the papers.
+
+With his three-cornered face, ending in a short, peaked beard, his
+clean-shaven upper-lip, his sallow complexion and his black clothes, he
+wore the solemn mien of a Protestant divine. People said of him that, in
+the days of the Revolution, he would have been Robespierre or
+Saint-Just. His eyes, which expressed sympathy and almost affection,
+belied the suggestion. In reality, he was a conscientious man, who owed
+the gravity of his appearance to an excessive sense of duty.
+
+He closed the bundles of papers and sat thinking for some time. His lips
+formed silent syllables. He was obviously composing his speech. And he
+spoke as follows, in a confidential and friendly tone which was
+infinitely perturbing:
+
+"I am going back in an hour. In the train, I shall draw up a report,
+based on these notes and on the respective depositions which you have
+made or which you will make to me. At nine o'clock this evening, I
+shall be with the prime minister. At half-past nine, the prime minister
+will speak in the chamber; and he will speak according to the substance
+of my report. This is what I wish you to understand above all things.
+Next, I want you to know the German reply, I want you to realize the
+great, the irretrievable importance of every word which you utter. As
+for me, feeling as I do the full weight of my responsibilities, I wish
+to seek behind those words, beyond yourselves, whether there is not some
+detail unperceived by yourselves which will destroy the appalling truth
+established by your evidence. What I am seeking is--I tell you so
+frankly--a doubt on your part, a contradiction. I am seeking it ..."
+
+He hesitated and, sinking his voice, concluded:
+
+"I am almost hoping for it."
+
+A great sense of peace filled the Morestals. Each of them, subduing his
+excitement, suddenly raised himself to the level of the task assigned to
+him and each of them was ready to fulfil it courageously, blindly, in
+the face of every obstacle.
+
+And Le Corbier resumed:
+
+"M. Morestal, here is your deposition. I ask you for the last time to
+affirm the exact, complete truth."
+
+"I affirm it, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Still, Weisslicht and his men declare that the arrest took place on
+German soil."
+
+"The upland widens out at this part," said Morestal, "and the road which
+marks the boundary winds.... It is possible for foreigners to make a
+mistake. It is not possible for us, for me. We were arrested on French
+soil."
+
+"You certify this on your honour?"
+
+"I swear it on the heads of my wife and son. I swear it to God."
+
+Le Corbier turned to the special commissary:
+
+"M. Joranc�, do you confirm this deposition?"
+
+"I confirm each of my friend Morestal's words in every respect," said
+the commissary. "They express the truth. I swear it on the head of my
+daughter."
+
+"The policemen have taken just as solemn oaths," observed Le Corbier.
+
+"The German policemen's evidence is interested. It helps them to shield
+the fault which they have committed. We have committed no fault. If
+chance had caused us to be arrested on German territory, no power on
+earth would have prevented Morestal and myself from admitting the fact.
+Morestal is free and fears nothing. Well, I, who am a prisoner, fear
+nothing either."
+
+"That is the view which the French government has adopted," said the
+under-secretary. "Moreover, we have additional evidence: yours, M.
+Philippe Morestal. That evidence the government, through an excessive
+feeling of scruple, has not wished to recognize officially. As a matter
+of fact, it appeared to us less firm, more undecided, at the second
+hearing than at the first. But, such as it is, it assumes a peculiar
+value in my eyes, because it corroborates that of the two other
+witnesses. M. Philippe Morestal, do you maintain the terms of your
+deposition, word for word?"
+
+Philippe rose, looked at his father, pushed back Marthe, who came
+running up to him, and replied, in a low voice:
+
+"No, monsieur le ministre."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION
+
+
+The conflict was immediate. Between Morestal and Philippe, the duel set
+in at once. The events of the previous days had cleared the way for it:
+at the first word, they stood up to each other like irreconcilable
+adversaries, the father spirited and aggressive, the son anxious and
+sad, but inflexible.
+
+Le Corbier at once foresaw a scene. He went out of the tent, ordered the
+sentry to stand away, made sure that the group of Germans could not hear
+the sound of the raised voices. Then, after carefully closing the fly,
+he returned to his place.
+
+"You are mad! You are mad!" said Morestal, who had come up to his son.
+"How dare you?"
+
+And Joranc� joined in:
+
+"Come, come, Philippe ... this is not serious.... You are not going to
+back out, to withdraw...."
+
+Le Corbier silenced them and, addressing Philippe:
+
+"Explain yourself, monsieur," he said. "I do not understand."
+
+Philippe looked at his father again and, slowly, in a voice which he
+strove to render firm as he spoke, answered:
+
+"I say, monsieur le ministre, that certain particulars in my evidence
+are not accurate and that it is my duty to correct them."
+
+"Speak, monsieur," said the under-secretary, with some harshness.
+
+Philippe did not hesitate. Facing old Morestal, who was quivering with
+indignation, he began, as though he were in a hurry to get it over:
+
+"First of all, Private Baufeld did not say things that were quite as
+clear as those which I repeated. The words used were obscure and
+incoherent."
+
+"What! Why, your declarations are precise...."
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, when I gave my evidence for the first time before
+the examining-magistrate, I was under the shock of my father's arrest. I
+was under his influence. It seemed to me that the incident would have no
+consequences if the arrest had been effected on German territory; and,
+when relating Private Baufeld's last words, in spite of myself, without
+knowing it, I interpreted them in the sense of my own wishes. Later on,
+I understood my mistake. I am now repairing it."
+
+He stopped. The under-secretary turned over his papers, no doubt read
+through Philippe's evidence and asked:
+
+"As far as concerns Private Baufeld, have you nothing to add?"
+
+Philippe's legs seemed on the point of giving way beneath him, so much
+so that Le Corbier asked him to sit down.
+
+He obeyed and, mastering himself, said:
+
+"Yes, I have. I have a revelation to make in this respect which is very
+painful to me. My father evidently attached no importance to it; but it
+seems to me ..."
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Morestal.
+
+"Oh, father, I beseech you!" entreated Philippe, folding his hands
+together. "We are not here to quarrel, nor to judge each other, but to
+do our duty. Mine is horrible. Do not discourage me. You shall condemn
+me afterwards, if you see cause."
+
+"I condemn you as it is, Philippe."
+
+Le Corbier made an imperious gesture and repeated, in a yet more
+peremptory tone:
+
+"Speak, M. Philippe Morestal."
+
+Philippe said, bringing the words out very quickly:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, Private Baufeld had relations on this side of the
+frontier. His desertion was prepared, backed up. He knew the safe road
+which he was to take."
+
+"Through whom did he know it?"
+
+Philippe lowered his head and, with half-closed eyes, whispered:
+
+"Through my father!"
+
+"That's not true!" shouted old Morestal, purple with rage. "That's not
+true! I prepare ... I!..."
+
+"Here is the paper which I found in Private Baufeld's pocket," said
+Philippe, handing a sheet of note-paper to Le Corbier. "It gives a sort
+of plan of escape, the road which the fugitive is to follow, the exact
+spot at which he is to cross the frontier so as to avoid the watchers."
+
+"What are you saying? What are you daring to say? A correspondence
+between me and that wretch!"
+
+"The two words, 'Albern Path,' are in your hand-writing, father, and it
+was through the Albern Path that the deserter entered France. The sheet
+is a sheet of your own note-paper."
+
+Morestal gave a bound:
+
+"And you took it from the waste-paper basket, where it lay torn and
+crumpled! You did a thing like that, you, my son! You had the infamy
+..."
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"Then what? Answer!"
+
+"Private Baufeld gave it me before his death."
+
+Morestal was standing opposite Philippe, with his arms crossed over his
+chest, and, so far from defending himself against his son's accusations,
+seemed rather to be addressing a culprit.
+
+And Philippe looked at him with eyes of anguish. At each blow that he
+struck, at each sentence that he uttered, he detected the mark of a
+wound on his father's face. A vein swelling on the old man's temples
+distressed him beyond measure. He was terrified to see streaks of blood
+mingle with the whites of his eyes. And he feared, at every moment, that
+his father would fall like a tree which the axe has struck to the heart.
+
+The under-secretary, after examining the sheet of paper which Philippe
+had given him, resumed:
+
+"In any case, M. Morestal, these lines were written by you?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre. I have already stated what the man
+Dourlowski tried to get out of me and the answer which I gave him."
+
+"Was it the first time that the fellow made the attempt?..."
+
+"The first time," said Morestal, after an imperceptible hesitation.
+
+"Then this paper?... These lines?..."
+
+"Those lines were written by me in the course of the conversation. Upon
+reflection, I threw away the paper. I see now that Dourlowski must have
+picked it up behind my back and used it in order to carry out his plan.
+If the police had discovered it on the deserter, it would have been a
+proof of my guilt. At least, they would have interpreted it in that way
+... as my son does. I hope, monsieur le ministre, that that
+interpretation is not yours."
+
+Le Corbier sat thinking for a moment or two, consulted the documents and
+said:
+
+"The two governments have agreed to leave outside the discussion all
+that concerns Private Baufeld's desertion, the part played by the man
+Dourlowski and the accusation of complicity made against the French
+commissary and against yourself, M. Morestal. These are legal questions
+which concern the German courts. The only purpose for which I have been
+delegated is to ascertain whether or not the arrest took place on French
+territory. My instructions are extremely limited. I cannot go beyond
+them. I will ask you, therefore, M. Philippe Morestal, to tell me, or
+rather to confirm to me, what you know on this subject."
+
+"I know nothing."
+
+A moment of stupefaction followed. Morestal, utterly bewildered, did not
+even think of protesting. He evidently looked upon his son as mad.
+
+"You know nothing?" said the under-secretary, who did not yet clearly
+see Philippe's object. "All the same, you have declared that you heard
+M. Joranc�'s exclamation, 'We are in France!... They are arresting the
+French commissary!...'"
+
+"I did not hear it."
+
+"What! What! But you were not two hundred yards away...."
+
+"I was nowhere near. I left my father at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch�ne
+and I neither saw nor heard what happened after we had parted."
+
+"Then why did you state the contrary, monsieur?"
+
+"I repeat, monsieur le ministre, when my father returned, I at once
+understood the importance of the first words which we should speak in
+the presence of the examining-magistrate. I thought that, by supporting
+my father's story, I should be helping to prevent trouble. To-day, in
+the face of the inexorable facts, I am reverting to the pure and simple
+truth."
+
+His replies were clear and unhesitating. There was no doubt that he was
+following a line of conduct which he had marked out in advance and from
+which nothing would make him swerve.
+
+Morestal and Joranc� listened to him in dismay.
+
+Marthe sat silent and motionless, with her eyes glued to her husband's.
+
+Le Corbier concluded:
+
+"You mean to say that you will not accept your share of the
+responsibility?"
+
+"I accept the responsibility for all that I have done."
+
+"But you withdraw from the case?"
+
+"In so far as I am concerned, yes."
+
+"Then I must cancel your evidence and rely upon the unshaken testimony
+of M. Morestal: is that it?"
+
+Philippe was silent.
+
+"Eh, what?" cried Morestal. "You don't answer?"
+
+There was a sort of entreaty in the old man's voice, a desperate appeal
+to Philippe's better feelings. His anger almost fell, so great was his
+unhappiness at seeing his son, his boy, a prey to this madness.
+
+"You mean that, don't you?" he resumed, gently. "You mean that monsieur
+le ministre can and must abide by my declarations?"
+
+"No," said Philippe, stubbornly.
+
+Morestal started:
+
+"No? But why? What reason have you for answering like that? Why should
+you?"
+
+"Because, father, though the nature of your declarations has not varied,
+your attitude, during the last three days, proves that you are
+experiencing a certain reticence, a certain hesitation."
+
+"What makes you say that?" asked Morestal, trembling all over, but as
+yet retaining his self-control.
+
+"Your certainty is not absolute."
+
+"How do you know? If you make an accusation, you must prove it."
+
+"I am not making an accusation. I am trying to state my exact
+impression."
+
+"Your impression! What is that worth beside the facts? And it is facts
+that I am asserting."
+
+"Facts interpreted by yourself, father, facts of which you cannot be
+sure. No, no, you cannot! Remember, the other morning, Friday morning,
+we came back here and, while you were once more showing me the road
+which you had covered, you said, 'Still, suppose I were mistaken!
+Suppose we had branched off more to the right! Suppose I were
+mistaken!'"
+
+"That was an exaggeration of scruple! All my acts, on the contrary, all
+my reflections ..."
+
+"There was no need to reflect! There was not even any need to return to
+this road! The fact that you returned to it shows that you were harassed
+by a doubt."
+
+"I have not doubted for one second."
+
+"You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your
+certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have
+within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your
+actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is
+your love for France. You think that France is always in the right
+against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if
+she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave
+your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of
+mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre, to take note of."
+
+"And you," shouted old Morestal, bursting out at last, "I accuse you of
+being impelled by some horrible sentiment against your father, against
+your country, by I can't say what infamous ideas...."
+
+"My ideas are outside the question...."
+
+"Your ideas, which I can guess, are at the back of your conduct and of
+your mental aberration. If I love France too well, you, you are too
+ready to forget your duty to her."
+
+"I love her as well as you do, father," cried Philippe, passionately,
+"and better, perhaps! It is a love that sometimes moves me to tears,
+when I think of what she has been, of what she is, so beautiful, so
+intelligent, so great, so adorable for her charm and her good faith! I
+love her because she is the mother of every lofty idea. I love her
+because her language is the clearest and noblest of all languages. I
+love her because she is always marching on, regardless of consequences,
+and because she sings as she marches and because she is gay and active
+and alive, always full of hopes and of illusions, and because she is the
+smile on the face of the world.... But I cannot see that she would be
+any the less great or admirable for admitting that one of her officials
+was captured twenty yards to the right of the frontier."
+
+"Why should she admit it, if it is not true?" said Morestal.
+
+"Why should she not admit it, if peace should be the outcome?" retorted
+Philippe.
+
+"Peace! There's the great word at last!" sneered Morestal. "Peace! You
+too have allowed yourself to be poisoned by the theories of the day!
+Peace at the price of disgrace: that's it, is it not?"
+
+"Peace at the price of an infinitesimal sacrifice of self-esteem."
+
+"That means dishonour."
+
+"No, no," Philippe answered, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "It is the
+beauty of a nation to raise itself above those miserable questions. And
+France is worthy of it. You do not know it, father, but since the last
+forty years, since that execrable date, since that accursed war the
+memory of which obsesses your mind and closes your eyes to every
+reality of life, a new France has come into existence, a France whose
+gaze is fixed upon other truths, a France that longs to shake off the
+evil past, to repudiate all that remains to us of the ancient barbarism
+and to rid herself of the laws of blood and war. She cannot do so yet,
+but she is making for it with all her young ardour and all her growing
+conviction. And twice already, in ten years--in the heart of Africa,
+face to face with England; on the shores of Morocco, face to face with
+Germany--twice she has overcome her old barbarous instinct."
+
+"Shameful memories, for which every Frenchman blushes!"
+
+"Glorious memories, of which we should be proud! One day, those will be
+the fairest pages of our time; and those two dates will wipe out the
+execrable date. That is the true revenge! That a nation which has never
+known fear, which has always, at the tragic hours of its history,
+settled its quarrels in the old barbarous fashion, sword in hand, that
+such a nation should have raised itself to so magnificent a conception
+of beauty and civilization, that, I say, is its finest claim to glory!"
+
+"Words! Words! It's the theory of peace at any price; and it is a lie
+that you are advising me to tell."
+
+"No, it is the possible truth that I ask you to admit, cruel though it
+may be for you to do so."
+
+"But you know the truth," cried Morestal, waving his arms in the air.
+"You've sworn it three times! You've signed it three times with your
+name! You saw and heard the truth on the night of the attack!"
+
+"I do not know it," said Philippe, in a firm voice. "I was not there. I
+was not present when you were captured and carried off. I did not hear
+M. Joranc�'s call. I swear it on my honour. I swear it on the heads of
+my children. I was not there."
+
+"Then where were you?" asked Marthe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE STAGES TO CALVARY
+
+
+The little sentence, so terrible in its conciseness, set up a clear
+issue between the two adversaries.
+
+Carried away by the exuberance of their convictions, they had widened
+the discussion into a sort of oratorical joust in which each fought
+eagerly for the opinions which he held dear. And Le Corbier knew better
+than to interrupt a duel whence he had little doubt that some unexpected
+light would flash, at last, from amid the superfluous words.
+
+Marthe's little sentence evoked that light. Le Corbier, from the
+beginning of the scene, had noticed the young woman's strange attitude,
+her silence, her fevered glances that seemed to probe Philippe
+Morestal's very soul. He understood the full value of the question from
+her accent. No more vain declamations and eloquent theories! It was no
+longer a matter of knowing which of the two, the father or the son,
+thought the more justly and served his country with the greater
+devotion. One thing alone carried weight; and Marthe had stated it in
+undeniable fashion.
+
+Philippe stood dumbfoundered. In the course of his reflections, he had
+foreseen every demand, every supposition, every difficulty, in short,
+all the consequences of the action upon which he had resolved. But how
+could he have foreseen this one, not knowing that Marthe would be
+present at that last and greatest interview? Before Le Corbier, before
+his father, supposing this detail entered their heads, he could invent
+an excuse of some kind. But before Marthe?...
+
+From that moment, he had the terrifying vision of the catastrophe that
+was preparing. A sweat covered his whole body. He ought to have faced
+the danger bravely and piled explanation on explanation at the risk of
+contradicting himself. As it was, he turned red and stammered. And, in
+so doing, he put himself out of court.
+
+Morestal had resumed his seat. Le Corbier was waiting, impassively. Amid
+the great silence, Marthe, now quite pale, speaking in a slow voice,
+which let fall the syllables one by one, said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, I accuse my husband of perjury and falsehood. It
+is now, when he withdraws his former evidence, that he is sinning
+against the truth, against a truth which he knows ... yes, he knows it,
+that I declare. By all that he has told me; by all that I know, I swear
+that he never questioned his father's word. And I swear that he was
+present at the attack."
+
+"Then," asked Le Corbier, "why does M. Philippe Morestal act as he is
+doing now?"
+
+"Monsieur le ministre," replied Marthe, "my husband is the author of the
+pamphlet entitled, _Peace before All_!"
+
+The disclosure created a sort of sensation. Le Corbier gave a start. The
+commissary wore an indignant air. As for old Morestal, he tried to stand
+up, staggered and at once fell back in his seat. All his strength had
+left him. His anger gave way before an immense despair. He could not
+have suffered more had he heard that Philippe was dead.
+
+And Marthe repeated:
+
+"My husband is the author of the pamphlet entitled _Peace before All_!
+For the sake of his opinions, for the sake of consistency with the
+profound, the exalted faith to which his views give rise within him, my
+husband is capable ..."
+
+Le Corbier suggested:
+
+"Of going to the length of a lie?"
+
+"Yes," she said. "False evidence can only appear insignificant to him
+beside the great catastrophe which he wishes to avert; and his
+conscience alone dictates his duty to him. Is it true, Philippe?"
+
+He replied, gravely:
+
+"Certainly. In the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed, when
+two nations are at daggers drawn over a wretched question of
+self-esteem, I should not shrink from a lie that appears to me a duty.
+But I have no need to resort to that expedient. I have truth itself on
+my side. I was not there."
+
+"Then where were you?" repeated Marthe.
+
+The little sentence rang out again, pitilessly. But, this time, Marthe
+uttered it in a more hostile tone and with a gesture that underlined all
+its importance. And she at once added, plying him with questions:
+
+"You did not come in until eight o'clock in the morning. Your bed was
+not undone. Consequently, you had not slept at the Old Mill. Where did
+you spend the night?"
+
+"I was looking for my father."
+
+"You did not know that your father had been carried off until Private
+Baufeld told you, at five o'clock in the morning. Consequently, it was
+five o'clock in the morning before you began to look for your father."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And, at that moment, you had not yet returned to the Old Mill,
+because, I repeat, your bed was not undone."
+
+"No."
+
+"And where did you come from? What were you doing from eleven o'clock in
+the evening, when you left your father, until five o'clock in the
+morning, when you heard of his capture?"
+
+The cross-examination, with its unimpeachable logic, left Philippe no
+loop-hole for escape. He felt that he was lost.
+
+For a moment, he was on the point of throwing up the game and
+exclaiming:
+
+"Well, yes, I was there. I heard everything. My father is right. We must
+accept his word...."
+
+This was a display of weakness which a man like Philippe was bound and
+fated to resist. On the other hand, how could he betray Suzanne?
+
+He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered:
+
+"I have nothing to say."
+
+Marthe, suddenly dropping her accusing tone and shaking with anguish,
+rushed up to him and cried:
+
+"You have nothing to say? What do you mean? Oh, Philippe, I entreat you,
+speak!... Confess that you are lying and that you were there ... I
+beseech you.... My mind is full of horrible thoughts.... Things have
+been happening--I have noticed them--which obsess me now.... It's not
+true, tell me that it's not true!"
+
+He thought that he beheld salvation in this unexpected distress.
+Disarmed, reduced to silence by a sort of confession which he could
+retract at leisure, his wife was making herself his accomplice and
+rescuing him by ceasing to attack him.
+
+"You must be silent," he said, in a tone of command. "Your personal
+grief must make way...."
+
+"What are you saying?"
+
+"Be silent, Marthe. We shall have the explanation which you demand. We
+shall have it later. But be silent."
+
+It was a useless piece of blundering. Like all women who love, Marthe
+only suffered the more from this semi-avowal. She fired up in her grief:
+
+"No, Philippe, I will not be silent.... I want to know what your words
+mean.... You have no right to escape by a subterfuge.... I demand an
+immediate explanation, here and now."
+
+She had stood up and, facing her husband, emphasized each of her words
+with a short movement of the hand. Seeing that Philippe made no reply,
+Le Corbier now joined in:
+
+"Mme. Philippe Morestal is right, monsieur. You must explain yourself
+and not so much for her--that is a matter between yourselves--as for me,
+for the purpose of the clearness of my enquiry. Ever since we began, you
+have kept to a sort of programme settled in advance and easily seen
+through. After denying your first depositions, you are trying to
+demolish your own father's evidence. The doubt which I was seeking
+behind your replies you are now endeavouring to create in my mind by
+throwing suspicion upon your father's statements by every means in your
+power. I have the right to ask myself if one of those means is not
+falsehood--the word is not mine, monsieur, but your wife's--and if the
+love of your opinions does not take precedence of the love of truth."
+
+"I am telling the truth, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Then prove it. Are you giving false evidence now? Or was it on the
+former occasions? How am I to know? I require a positive certainty. If I
+can't have that, I shall take no notice of what you say and rely upon
+the evidence of a witness who, at any rate, has never varied."
+
+"My father is mistaken.... My father is a victim of illusions...."
+
+"Until I receive a proof to the contrary, monsieur, your accusations can
+carry no weight with me. They will do so only if you give me an
+undeniable proof of your sincerity. Now there is only one that would
+bear that undeniable character; and you refuse to supply me with it...."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"I tell you, monsieur," Le Corbier interrupted, impatiently, "that
+there is no other question at issue. Either you were on the frontier at
+the time of the attack and heard M. Joranc�'s protests, in which case
+your former evidence and M. Morestal's retain all their importance, or
+else you were not there, in which case it becomes your imperative duty
+to prove to me that you were not there. It is very easy: where were you
+at that moment?"
+
+Philippe had a fit of rebellion and, replying aloud to the thoughts that
+tortured him:
+
+"Ah, no!" he said. "Ah, no!... It's not possible that I should be forced
+to.... Nonsense, it would be monstrous!..."
+
+It seemed to him as though a malevolent genius had been trying, for four
+days past, to direct events in such a way that he, Philippe, was under
+the terrible necessity of accusing Suzanne.
+
+"No, a thousand times no!" he repeated, angrily. "There is no power that
+can compel me.... Say that I spent the night walking about, or sleeping
+by the roadside. Say what you please.... But leave me free in my actions
+and my words."
+
+"In that case," said the under-secretary of state, gathering up his
+papers, "the enquiry is at an end and M. Morestal's evidence will serve
+as the basis on which I shall form my conclusions."
+
+"Very well," retorted Philippe, beside himself.
+
+He began to walk, almost to run, around the tent. He was like a wild
+animal seeking an outlet. Was he to throw up the work which he had
+undertaken? Was he, the frail obstacle self-set against the torrent, to
+be vanquished in his turn? Oh, how gladly he would have given his own
+life! He became aware of this, deep down in his inner consciousness. And
+he understood, as it were physically, the sacrifice of those who go to
+their death smiling, when a great idea uplifts them.
+
+But in what respect would death have settled things? He must either
+speak--and speak against Suzanne: a torture infinitely more exquisite
+than death--or else resign himself. It was this or that: there was no
+alternative.
+
+He walked to and fro, as though tormented by the fire that devoured him.
+Was he to fling himself on his knees before Marthe and ask for mercy or
+to fold his hands before Le Corbier? He did not know. His brain was
+bursting. And he had the harrowing feeling that all his efforts were in
+vain and turning against himself.
+
+He stopped and said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, your opinion alone matters; and I will attempt
+impossibilities to make that opinion agree with the real facts. I am
+prepared for anything, monsieur le ministre ... on one condition,
+however, that our interview is private. To you and to you alone I can
+..."
+
+Once more, he found Marthe facing him, Marthe, the unforeseen enemy,
+who seemed to hold him gripped as a prey and who, fierce and pitiless
+and alive to the least attempt at stratagem, would never let him go.
+
+"I have the right to be there!" she cried. "You must explain yourself in
+my presence! Your word will have no value unless I am there.... If not,
+I shall challenge it as a fresh lie. Monsieur le ministre, I put you on
+your guard against a trick...."
+
+Le Corbier gave a sign of approval and, addressing Philippe:
+
+"What is the use of a private interview, monsieur? Whatever credit I may
+attach to your confidential statements, if I am to believe them frankly
+I must have a check with which only your wife and your father can supply
+me. Unfortunately, after all your contradictory versions, I am entitled
+to doubt ..."
+
+"Monsieur le ministre," Philippe hinted, "there are sometimes
+circumstances ... facts that cannot be revealed ... secrets of such a
+nature ..."
+
+"You lie! You lie!" cried Marthe, maddened by the admission. "It is not
+true. A woman: is that what you mean? No ... no.... Ah, Philippe, I
+beseech you!... Monsieur le ministre, I swear to you that he is lying
+... I swear it to you.... He is keeping up his falsehood to the bitter
+end. He betray me! He love another woman! You're lying, Philippe, are
+you not? Oh, hush, hush!"
+
+Suddenly, Philippe felt a hand wringing his arm. Turning round, he saw
+Commissary Joranc�, with a white, threatening face, and heard him say,
+in a dull voice:
+
+"What did you mean to suggest? Whom are you talking about? Oh, I'll make
+you answer, trust me!"
+
+Philippe stared at him in stupefaction. And he also stared at Marthe's
+distorted features. And he was surprised, for he did not think that he
+had spoken words that could arouse their suspicions.
+
+"But you are all mad!" he said. "Come, M. Joranc�.... Come, Marthe....
+What's the matter? I don't know what you can have understood.... Perhaps
+it's my fault ... I am so tired!"
+
+"Whom have you been talking about?" repeated Joranc�, shaking with rage.
+
+"Confess! Confess!" demanded Marthe, pressing him hard with all her
+jealous hatred.
+
+And, behind her, Philippe saw old Morestal, huddled in his chair, as
+though unable to recover from the blows that had struck him. That was
+Philippe's first victim. Was he to offer up two more? He started:
+
+"Enough! Enough!... This is all hateful.... There is a terrible
+misunderstanding between us.... And all that I say only makes it
+worse.... We will have an explanation later, I promise you, M.
+Joranc�.... You also, Marthe, I swear it.... And you will realize your
+mistake. But let us be silent now, please.... We have tortured one
+another long enough."
+
+He spoke in so resolute a voice that Joranc� stood undecided and Marthe
+herself was shaken. Was he stating the truth? Was it simply a
+misunderstanding that divided them?
+
+Le Corbier guessed the tragedy and, attacking Philippe in his turn,
+said:
+
+"So, monsieur, I must look for no enlightenment on the point to which
+you drew my attention? And it is you yourself, is it not, who, by your
+definite attitude, close the discussion?"
+
+"Yes," replied Philippe, firmly.
+
+"No," protested Marthe, returning to the charge with indefatigable
+vigour. "No, it is not finished, monsieur le ministre; it cannot finish
+like this. My husband, whether he meant to or not, has uttered words
+which we have all interpreted in the same sense. If there is a
+misunderstanding, let it be dispelled now. And there is only one person
+who can do so. That person is here. I ask to have that person called
+in."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," stammered Philippe.
+
+"Yes, you do, Philippe. You know to whom I refer and all the proofs that
+give me the right to ..."
+
+"Silence, Marthe," commanded Philippe, beside himself.
+
+"Then confess. If not, I swear that ..."
+
+The sight of M. Joranc� stayed her threat. Unaware of Suzanne's presence
+at the Butte-aux-Loups, Joranc� had ceased to understand; and his
+suspicions, aroused by Philippe's imprudence, had become gradually
+allayed. At the last moment, when on the point of putting her
+irreparable accusation into words, Marthe hesitated. Her hatred was
+vanquished by the sight of the father's grief.
+
+Moreover, just then, a diversion occurred to bring about an armistice,
+as it were, in the midst of the implacable conflict. Le Corbier had
+risen hurriedly from his seat and drawn back the tent-fly. A quick step
+was heard outside.
+
+"Ah, there you are, Tr�bons!"
+
+And he almost ran to fetch the young man in and plied him with
+questions:
+
+"Did you speak to the prime minister? What did he say?"
+
+M. de Tr�bons entered the tent. But, on catching sight of the Morestal
+family, he turned back:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, I think it would be better ..."
+
+"No, no, Tr�bons. No one here is in the way ... on the contrary....
+Come, what is it? Bad news?"
+
+"Very bad news, monsieur le ministre. The French embassy in Berlin has
+been burnt down...."
+
+"Oh!" said Le Corbier. "Wasn't it guarded?"
+
+"Yes, but the troops were overborne by the crowd."
+
+"Next?"
+
+"Germany is mobilizing all her frontier army-corps."
+
+"But in Paris? What about Paris?"
+
+"Nothing but riots.... The boulevards are overrun.... At this moment,
+the municipal guards are charging the mob to clear the approaches to the
+Palais-Bourbon."
+
+"But what do they want, when all is said?"
+
+"War."
+
+The word rang out like a death-knell. After a few seconds, Le Corbier
+asked:
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"The prime minister is anxiously awaiting your return. 'Don't let him
+lose a minute,' he said. 'His report might spell safety. It is my last
+shot. If it misses fire, I can't answer for what will happen.' And he
+added, 'And, even then, it may be too late.'"
+
+The silence was really excruciating around the table, in the little
+space inside that tent in which the cruelest of tragedies was hurling
+against one another a group of noble souls united by the most loyal
+affection. Each of them forgot his private suffering and thought only of
+the horror that loomed ahead. The sinister word was echoed in all their
+hearts.
+
+Le Corbier gave a gesture of despair:
+
+"His last shot! Yes, if my report gave him an opportunity of retreating!
+But ..."
+
+He watched old Morestal, as though he were still expecting a sudden
+retractation. What was the good? Supposing he took it upon himself to
+extenuate the old man's statements, Morestal was the sort of
+uncompromising man who would give him the lie in public. And then the
+government would find itself in an unenviable plight indeed!
+
+"Well," he said, "let fate take its course! We have done our very
+utmost. My dear Tr�bons, is the motor at the cross-roads?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Please collect the papers; we will go. We have an hour to reach the
+station. It's more than we want."
+
+He picked up his hat, his coat, took a few steps to and fro and stopped
+in front of Philippe. Philippe, he half thought, had perhaps not done
+his utmost. Philippe perhaps had still one stage to travel. But how was
+Le Corbier to find out? How was he to fathom that mysterious soul and
+read its insoluble riddle? Le Corbier knew those men endowed with the
+missionary spirit and capable, in furtherance of their cause, of
+admirable devotion, of almost superhuman sacrifice, but also of
+hypocrisy, of craft, sometimes of crime. What was this Philippe
+Morestal's evidence worth? What part exactly was he playing? Had he
+deliberately and falsely given rise to the suspicion of some amorous
+meeting? Or was he really carrying his heroism to the point of telling
+the truth?
+
+Slowly, thoughtfully, as though in obedience to a new hope, Le Corbier
+went back to his seat, flung his motor-coat on the table, sat down and,
+addressing M. de Tr�bons:
+
+"One second more.... Leave the papers. And pray bring Mlle. Suzanne
+Joranc� here."
+
+M. de Tr�bons left the tent.
+
+"Is Suzanne there?" asked Joranc�, in an anxious voice. "Was she there
+just now?..."
+
+He received no reply; and he vainly scrutinized the faces, one after the
+other, of those whom he was questioning. During the three or four
+minutes that elapsed, none of the actors in the drama made the least
+movement. Morestal remained seated, with his head hanging on his chest.
+Marthe kept her eyes fixed on the opening of the tent. As for Philippe,
+he awaited this additional blow with anguish in his heart. The massacre
+was not ended. Destiny ordained that, following upon his father, upon
+his wife, upon Joranc�, he himself should sacrifice this fourth victim.
+
+Le Corbier, who was watching him, was overcome with an involuntary
+feeling of compassion, of sympathy almost. At that moment, Philippe's
+sincerity seemed to him absolute and he felt inclined to abandon the
+test. But distrust carried the day. Absurd though the supposition might
+be, he had an impression that this man was capable of falsely accusing
+the girl in the presence of his wife, of his father and of Joranc�
+himself. With Suzanne present, falsehood became impossible. The test was
+a cruel one, but, however it was decided, it carried with it the
+unimpeachable certainty without which Le Corbier was unwilling to close
+his enquiry.
+
+Philippe shook all over. Marthe and Joranc� rose from their seats. The
+tent-fly was drawn aside. Suzanne entered.
+
+She at once gave a movement of recoil. At the first glance, at the first
+sight of those motionless people, she suspected the danger which her
+feminine instinct had already foreseen. And, deathly pale, deprived of
+all her strength, she dared not come forward.
+
+Le Corbier took her hand and, gently:
+
+"Please be seated, mademoiselle. It is possible that your evidence may
+be of value to us to clear up a few points."
+
+There was only one vacant chair, next to Joranc�. Suzanne took a few
+steps and looked at her father, whom she had not seen since the evening
+at Saint-�lophe. He turned away his head. She sat down trembling.
+
+Then Le Corbier, who was in a hurry to finish the business, walked
+quickly up to Philippe and said:
+
+"It is the last time, monsieur, that I shall apply to you. In a few
+minutes, everything will be irrevocably ended. It depends on your good
+will...."
+
+But he went no further. Never had he beheld a face ravaged as Philippe's
+was, nor ever so great an expression of strength and energy as showed
+through the chaos of those distorted features. He understood that
+Philippe had resolved to travel the last stage. He waited, without a
+word.
+
+And indeed, as though he too were eager to reach the terrible goal,
+Philippe spoke and said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, if I tell you for certain how I spent my night,
+will my words have an unimpeachable value in your mind?"
+
+His voice was almost calm. His eyes had selected a spot in the tent from
+which he no longer dared remove them, for he feared to meet Marthe's
+eyes, or Joranc�'s, or Suzanne's.
+
+Le Corbier replied:
+
+"An unimpeachable value."
+
+"Will they tend to lessen the importance of my father's statements?"
+
+"Yes, for I shall have to weigh those statements against the words of a
+man whose perfect sincerity I shall no longer have cause to doubt."
+
+Philippe was silent. His forehead oozed sweat at every pore and he
+staggered like a drunken man on the point of falling.
+
+Le Corbier insisted:
+
+"Speak without scruple, monsieur. There are circumstances in which a man
+must look straight before him and in which the aim to be attained must,
+in a measure, blind him."
+
+Philippe continued:
+
+"And you think, monsieur le ministre, that your report, thus modified,
+may have a decisive influence in Paris?"
+
+"I say so, positively. The prime minister has allowed me to look into
+his secret thoughts. Moreover, I know what he is capable of doing. If
+the conclusions of my report give him a little latitude, he will ring up
+the German embassy and mount the tribune in order to bring the chamber,
+to bring the country face to face with the facts as they are. The
+cabinet will fall amid a general outcry, there will be a few riots, but
+we shall have peace ... and peace, as you, monsieur, were saying a
+moment ago, peace without dishonour, at the price of an infinitesimal
+sacrifice of self-esteem, which will make France greater than ever."
+
+"Yes ... yes ..." said Philippe. "But, if it should be too late? If it
+should no longer be possible to prevent anything?"
+
+"That," said Le Corbier, "is a thing which we cannot foretell.... It
+may, as a matter of fact, be too late...."
+
+This was the hardest thought of all for Philippe. Deep hollows appeared
+in his cheeks. The minutes seemed to age him like long years of
+sickness. The sight of him suggested the faces of the dying martyrs in
+certain primitive pictures. Nothing short of physical pain can thus
+convulse the features of a man's countenance. And he really suffered as
+much as if he were being stretched on the rack and burnt with red-hot
+pincers. Nevertheless, he felt that his mind remained lucid, as must be
+that of the martyrs undergoing torture, and he clearly understood that,
+in consequence of a series of inexorable facts, he had, for a few
+moments--but on the most terrible conditions!--the power of perhaps ...
+of perhaps saving the world from the great scourge of war.
+
+He stiffened himself and, livid in the face, said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, what my wife suspected, what you have already
+guessed, is the exact truth. On Monday night, while the arrest was
+taking place and while the two captives were being carried to Germany, I
+was with Suzanne Joranc�."
+
+It was as though Joranc�, standing behind him, had been waiting for the
+accusation as for an attack that must be parried without delay:
+
+"Suzanne! My daughter!" he cried, seizing Philippe by the collar of his
+jacket. "What are you saying, you villain? How dare you?"
+
+Marthe had not stirred, remained as though stunned. Old Morestal
+protested indignantly. Philippe whispered:
+
+"I am saying what happened."
+
+"You lie! You lie!" roared Joranc�. "My daughter, the purest, the most
+honest girl in the world! Why don't you confess that you lie?... Confess
+it!... Confess it!..."
+
+The poor man was choking. The words were caught short in his throat. His
+whole frame seemed to quiver; and his eyes were filled with gleams of
+hatred and murderous longings and anger and, above all, pain, infinite,
+pitiless, human pain.
+
+And he entreated and commanded by turns:
+
+"Confess, confess!... You're lying, aren't you?... It's because of your
+opinions, that's it, because of your opinions!... You want a proof ...
+an alibi ... and so ..."
+
+And, addressing Le Corbier:
+
+"Leave me alone with him, monsieur le ministre.... He will confess to me
+that he is lying, that he is talking like that because he has to ... or
+because he is mad ... who knows? Yes, because he is mad!... How could
+she love you? Why should she? Since when? She, who is your wife's
+friend.... Get out, I know my daughter!... But answer, you villain!...
+Morestal, my friend, make him answer ... make him give his proofs....
+And you, Suzanne, why don't you spit in his face?"
+
+He turned upon Suzanne; and Marthe, rousing herself from her torpor,
+went up to the girl, as he did.
+
+Suzanne stood tottering on her feet, with averted gaze.
+
+"Well, what's this?" roared her father. "Won't you answer either?
+Haven't you a word to answer to that liar?"
+
+She tried to speak, stammered a few confused syllables and was silent.
+
+Philippe met her eyes, the eyes of a hunted fawn, a pair of poor eyes
+pleading for help.
+
+"You admit it! You admit it!" shouted Joranc�.
+
+And he made a sudden rush at her; and Philippe, as in a nightmare, saw
+Suzanne flung back, shaken by her father, struck by Marthe, who, she
+too, in an abrupt fit of fury, demanded the useless confession.
+
+It was a horrible and violent scene. Le Corbier and M. de Tr�bons
+interfered, while Morestal, shaking his fist at Philippe, cried:
+
+"I curse you! You're a criminal! Let her be, Joranc�. She couldn't help
+it, poor thing. He is the one to blame.... Yes, you, you, my son!... And
+I curse you.... I turn you out...."
+
+The old man pressed his hand to his heart, stammered a few words more,
+begging Joranc�'s pardon and promising to look after his daughter, then
+turned on his heels and fell against the table, fainting....
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE ARMED VIGIL
+
+
+"Ma'am!"
+
+"What is it? What's the matter?" asked Mme. Morestal, waking with a
+start.
+
+"It's I, Catherine."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"They have sent from the town-hall, ma'am.... They are asking for the
+master.... They want instructions.... Victor says the troops are being
+mobilized...."
+
+The day before, after his fainting-fit at the Butte-aux-Loups, old
+Morestal was carried back to the Old Mill on a litter by the soldiers of
+the detachment. Marthe, who came with him, flung a few words of
+explanation to her mother-in-law and, without paying attention to the
+good woman's lamentations, without even speaking to her of Philippe and
+of what could have become of him, ran to her room and locked herself in.
+
+Dr. Borel was hurriedly sent for. He examined the patient, diagnosed
+serious trouble in the region of the heart and refused to give an
+opinion.
+
+The house was at sixes and sevens during the evening and all through
+that Sunday night. Catherine and Victor ran to and fro. Mme. Morestal,
+generally so level-headed, but accustomed to bewail her fate on great
+occasions, nursed the sick man and issued a multiplicity of orders.
+Twice she sent the gardener to the chemist at Saint-�lophe.
+
+At midnight, the old man was suffering so much that Dr. Borel was called
+in again. He seemed anxious and administered an injection of morphia.
+
+There followed a few hours of comparative calm; and Mme. Morestal,
+although tortured at Philippe's absence and fearing that he might do
+something rash, was able to lie down on the sofa.
+
+It was then that Catherine rushed into the room, at the risk of
+disturbing the patient's rest.
+
+Mme. Morestal ended by bundling her off:
+
+"Hold your tongue, can't you? Don't you see that your master's asleep?"
+
+"They're mobilizing the troops, ma'am.... It's certain that we shall
+have war...."
+
+"Oh, don't bother us with your war!" growled the good woman, pushing her
+out of the room. "Boil some water for your master and don't waste your
+time talking nonsense."
+
+She herself went to work at once. But all around her was a confused
+noise of murmurs and exclamations, coming from the terrace, the garden
+and the house.
+
+Morestal woke up at nine o'clock.
+
+"Suzanne! Where's Suzanne?" he asked, almost before he opened his eyes.
+
+"What! Suzanne!..."
+
+"Why, yes ... why, of course, Suzanne!... I promised her father.... No
+one has a better right to live in this house.... Philippe's not here, I
+suppose?"
+
+He raised himself in bed, furious at the mere thought.
+
+"He has not come in," said his wife. "We don't know where he is...."
+
+"That's all right! He'd better not come back!... I've turned him out....
+And now I want Suzanne.... She shall nurse me ... she alone, do you
+understand?..."
+
+"Come, Morestal, you surely wouldn't ask ... It's not possible for
+Suzanne to ..."
+
+But her husband's features were contracted with such a look of anger
+that she dared not protest further:
+
+"As you please," she said. "After all, if you think right...."
+
+She consulted Dr. Borel by telephone. He replied that the patient must
+on no account be thwarted. Moreover, he undertook to see the girl, to
+point out to her the duty that called her to the Old Mill and to
+overcome any reluctance on her part.
+
+Dr. Borel himself brought Suzanne to the house at about twelve o'clock.
+Red with shame, her eyes swollen with tears, she submitted to Mme.
+Morestal's humiliating reception and took her seat by the old man's
+bedside.
+
+He gave a sigh of content when he saw her:
+
+"Ah, I'm glad!... I feel better already.... You won't leave me, will
+you, my little Suzanne?"
+
+And he fell asleep again almost at once, under the action of a fresh
+injection of morphia.
+
+As on the previous evening, the dining-room at the Old Mill remained
+empty. The maid took a light meal on a tray to Mme. Morestal and, next,
+to Marthe. But Marthe did not even answer her knock.
+
+Marthe Morestal had not left her room during the morning; and all day
+she stayed alone, with her door bolted and her shutters closed. She sat
+on the edge of a chair and, bent in two, held her fists to her jaws and
+clenched her teeth so as not to scream aloud. It would have done her
+good to cry; and she sometimes thought that her suffering was about to
+find an outlet in sobbing; but the relief of tears did not come to
+moisten her eyes. And, stubbornly, viciously, she went over the whole
+pitiful story, recalling Suzanne's stay in Paris, the excursions on
+which Philippe used to take the young girl and from which they both
+returned looking so happy and glad, their meeting at the Old Mill,
+Philippe's departure for Saint-�lophe and, the next day, Suzanne's
+strange attitude, her ambiguous questions, her spiteful smile, as of a
+rival endeavouring to hurt the wife and hoping to supplant her. Oh, what
+a cruel business! And how hateful and wicked life, once so sweet, now
+seemed to her!
+
+At six o'clock, driven by hunger, she went down to the dining-room. As
+she came out, after eating a little bread and drinking a glass of water,
+she saw Mme. Morestal going down the front-door steps to meet the
+doctor. She then remembered that her father-in-law was ill and that she
+had not yet seen him. His bedroom was close by. She crossed the passage,
+knocked, heard a voice--the voice of a nurse, she thought--say "Come
+in," and opened the door.
+
+Opposite her, at a few steps' distance, beside the sleeping man, was
+Suzanne.
+
+"You! You!" fumed Marthe. "You here!..."
+
+Suzanne began to tremble under her fixed gaze and stammered:
+
+"It was your father-in-law.... He insisted.... The doctor came ..."
+
+And, with her knees giving way beneath her, she said, over and over
+again:
+
+"I beg your pardon.... Forgive me ... forgive me.... It was my fault....
+Philippe would never have ..."
+
+Marthe at first listened without stirring. Perhaps she might have been
+just able to restrain herself. But, at the name of Philippe, at the name
+of Philippe uttered by Suzanne, she gave a bound, clutched the girl by
+the throat and flung her back against the table. She quivered with rage
+like an animal that at last holds its foe. She would have liked to
+destroy that body which her husband had clasped in his arms, to tear it,
+bite it, hurt it, hurt it as much as she could.
+
+Suzanne gurgled under the onslaught. Then, losing her head, Marthe,
+stiff-fingered, clawed her with her nails on the forehead, on the
+cheeks, on the lips, those moist, red lips which Philippe had kissed.
+Her hatred gained new life with every movement. Blood flowed and mingled
+with Suzanne's tears. Marthe vilified her with abominable words, words
+which she had never spoken before. And, drunk with rage, thrice she spat
+in her face.
+
+She ran out of the room, turned back, hissed a parting insult, slammed
+the door and went down the passage, calling:
+
+"Victor! Catherine!"
+
+Once in her room, she pressed the bell-push until the servants came:
+
+"My trunk! Bring it down! And get the carriage ready, Victor, do you
+hear? At once!..."
+
+Mme. Morestal appeared, attracted by the noise. Dr. Borel was with her.
+
+"What's the matter, Marthe? What is it?"
+
+"I refuse to stay here another hour!" retorted Marthe, heedless of the
+presence of the doctor and the servants. "You can choose between Suzanne
+and me...."
+
+"My husband promised ..."
+
+"Very well. As you choose that woman, I am going."
+
+She opened the drawers of the chest and flung the dresses and linen out
+promiscuously. With an abrupt movement, she pulled the cloth from the
+table. All the knicknacks fell to the floor.
+
+Dr. Borel tried to argue with her:
+
+"This is all very well, but where are you going?"
+
+"To Paris. My boys will come to me there."
+
+"But haven't you seen the papers? The position is growing more serious
+every hour. The frontier-corps are being mobilized. Are you sure of
+getting through?"
+
+"I am going," she said.
+
+"And suppose you don't reach Paris?"
+
+"I am going," she repeated.
+
+"What about Philippe?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. He understood that nothing mattered to her,
+neither her husband's existence nor the threat of war, and that there
+was no fighting against her despair. Nevertheless, as he went away with
+Mme. Morestal, he said, loud enough for Marthe to hear:
+
+"By the way, don't be uneasy about Philippe. He has been to see me and
+to enquire after his father. He will come back. I promised to let him
+know how things were going...."
+
+When Victor came, at seven o'clock, to say that the carriage was ready,
+Marthe had changed her mind. The thought that Philippe was hanging about
+the neighbourhood, that he might return to the house, that Suzanne and
+he would stay under the same roof and see each other as and when they
+pleased was more than she could bear. She remained, therefore, but
+standing behind her door, with her ears pricked up to catch the first
+sound. When everybody had gone to bed, she went downstairs and hid
+herself, until break of day, in a recess in the entrance-hall. She was
+prepared to spring out at the least creak on the stair, for she felt
+convinced that Suzanne would slip out in the dark with the object of
+joining Philippe. This time, Marthe would have killed her. And her
+jealousy was so exasperated that she lay in wait, not with fear, but
+with the fierce hope that Suzanne was really going to appear before her.
+
+Fits such as these, which are abnormal in a woman like Marthe, who, at
+ordinary times, obeyed her reason more readily than her instinct, fits
+such as these do not last. Marthe ended by suddenly bursting into sobs.
+After crying for a long time, she went up to her room and, worn out with
+fatigue, got into bed.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+That morning, on the Tuesday, Philippe came to the Old Mill. Mme.
+Morestal was told and hurried down, in a great state of excitement,
+eager to vent her wrath upon her unworthy son. But, at the sight of him
+standing outside on the terrace, she overcame her need of recrimination
+and uttered no reproach, so frightened was she at seeing him look so
+pale and sad.
+
+She asked:
+
+"Where have you been?"
+
+"What does it matter?" replied Philippe. "I ought not to have come back
+... but I could not keep away, because of father.... I was too much
+upset.... How is he?"
+
+"Dr. Borel won't say anything definite yet."
+
+"And what is your opinion?"
+
+"My opinion? Well, frankly speaking, I am very hopeful. Your father is
+so strong! But, all the same, it was a violent shock...."
+
+"Yes," he said, "that is what alarms me. I have not lived, these last
+two days. How could I possibly go before knowing for certain?..."
+
+She hinted, with a certain feeling of apprehension:
+
+"Then you want to stay here?"
+
+"Yes ... provided he does not know."
+
+"The fact is ... it's like this ... Suzanne is here, in your father's
+room.... He insisted on her coming...."
+
+"Oh!" he said. "Is Suzanne here?"
+
+"Where would you have her go? She has no one left. Who knows when
+Joranc� will be out of prison? And, besides, will he ever forgive her?"
+
+He stood wrapped in thought and asked:
+
+"Has Marthe met her?"
+
+"There was a terrible scene between them. I found Suzanne with her face
+streaming with blood, all over scratches."
+
+"Oh, the poor things!" he murmured. "The poor things!..."
+
+His head fell; and, presently, she saw that he was weeping.
+
+As she had no word of consolation to offer him, she turned round and
+walked to the drawing-room, where she shifted the furniture so as to
+have the satisfaction of putting it back in its place. She tried to find
+a pretext to utter her resentment. When Philippe sat down at the table,
+she showed him the newspapers:
+
+"Have you seen them?"
+
+"Yes, the news is bad."
+
+"That's not the point. The point is that the cabinet has fallen on the
+publication of the under-secretary's report. The whole Chamber rose up
+in protest."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, that report is the one based upon the last enquiry ... of two
+days ago ... at the Butte-aux-Loups.... So you see ..."
+
+Philippe felt a need to justify himself:
+
+"You forget, mother, that there was an unexpected factor in the case.
+Before the sitting of the Chamber, a telegram had been published
+reporting the words spoken by the emperor after hearing the
+Statthalter's explanation."
+
+He pointed to one of the papers:
+
+"Here, mother, read this. These are the emperor's own words: 'Our
+conscience is now at ease. We had the might; we have the right. God
+decide the issue! I am ready.' And the Chamber, when condemning and
+overthrowing a ministry that was prepared for conciliation, intended to
+reply to words which it looked upon as provocative."
+
+"Very well," said the old lady. "But, all the same, the report made no
+difference."
+
+"Yes, that is so."
+
+"Then what was the good of all your fuss and bothering? It was no use
+doing so much harm, considering that it served no purpose."
+
+Philippe shook his head:
+
+"It had to be. Certain actions must be performed and they should not be
+judged by the consequences which accident thrusts upon them, but by
+those which we expected of them, in all human logic and in all good
+faith."
+
+"Empty phrases!" she said, obstinately. "You ought not to have done
+it.... It was a very useless piece of heroism...."
+
+"Don't think that, mother. There was no need to be a hero to act as I
+did. It was enough to be an honest man. No one with the same clear
+vision as myself of what might happen would have hesitated any more than
+I did."
+
+"So you regret nothing?"
+
+He took her hand and, sadly:
+
+"Oh, mother, how can you talk like that, you who know me? How can I be
+indifferent to all this break-up around me?"
+
+He spoke the words with such despondency that she received an insight
+into his distress. But her anger with him was too great and especially
+their natures were too different for her to be touched by it. She
+concluded:
+
+"No matter, my boy, it's all your fault. If you had not listened to
+Suzanne...."
+
+He did not reply. The accusation cut into the most sensitive part of a
+wound which nothing could allay; and he was not the man to seek excuses.
+
+"Come," said his mother.
+
+She took him to another room on the second floor, further than the first
+from that which Marthe occupied:
+
+"Victor will bring you your bag and serve your meals in here; that will
+be best. And I will let your wife know."
+
+"Give her this letter, which I got ready for her," he said. "It is only
+asking for an interview, an explanation. She can't refuse."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In this way, in the course of that Tuesday, the Morestal family were
+once more gathered under the same roof; but in what heart-rending
+conditions! And how great was the hatred that now divided those beings
+once united by so warm an affection!
+
+Philippe felt the disaster in a way that was, so to speak, visible and
+palpable, during these hours in which each of his victims remained
+locked up, as though in a torture-chamber. Nothing could have distracted
+his mind from its obsession, and even the fear of that accursed war
+which he had not been able to avert.
+
+And yet news reached him at every moment, threatening news, like the
+news of a plague that comes nearer and nearer, despite the distance,
+despite the intervening waters.
+
+At lunch-time, it was Victor, who had hardly entered the room with
+Philippe's tray before he exclaimed:
+
+"Have you heard of the telegram from England, sir? The British premier
+has declared in parliament that, if war came, he would land a hundred
+thousand men at Brest and Cherbourg. That means an open alliance."
+
+Later on, he heard the gardener's son, Henriot, returning on his bicycle
+from Saint-�lophe, shouting to his father and Victor:
+
+"There's a mutiny at Strasburg! They're barricading the streets! They've
+blown up one of the barracks!"
+
+And Victor at once telephoned to the _�claireur des Vosges_, pretending
+that he was doing so on behalf of M. Morestal, and came running up to
+Philippe's room:
+
+"M. Philippe, Strasburg is in a state of insurrection.... All the
+peasants of the country around have taken up arms."
+
+And Philippe reflected that there was no hope, that the governments
+would have their hands forced. And he reflected upon it almost calmly.
+His part was played. Nothing interested him now but his personal sorrow,
+the health of his father, the sufferings of Marthe and Suzanne, those
+first victims of the hateful scourge.
+
+At five o'clock, he heard that one of the countries had issued an
+ultimatum against the other. Which of the two countries? And what was
+the purport of the ultimatum? He was unable to learn.
+
+At nine o'clock, the telegrams announced that the new cabinet, chosen
+for the greater part from among the members of the opposition, had moved
+the immediate creation of "a Committee of National Safety, charged to
+take all the necessary measures for the defence of the country in case
+of war." The Chamber had passed the motion through its various stages in
+one sitting and had appointed the Governor of Paris head of the
+Committee of National Safety, with discretionary powers. This implied an
+eventual dictatorship.
+
+All that Tuesday night, the Old Mill, silent and gloomy within doors,
+was filled with noise and excitement from without, a prey to the fever
+that precedes great catastrophes. Victor, the gardener and the
+gardener's son by turns bicycled at full speed to Saint-�lophe, where
+other people were bringing news from the sub-prefecture. The women
+moaned and wailed. At three o'clock in the morning, Philippe
+distinguished the angry voice of Farmer Saboureux.
+
+At daybreak, there was a lull. Philippe, exhausted by so many sleepless
+nights, ended by dozing off and, while still asleep, heard the sound of
+footsteps coming and going over the pebbles in the garden. Then,
+suddenly, pretty late in the morning, he was awakened by a clamour
+outside.
+
+He sprang out of bed. In front of the steps, Victor leapt from his
+horse, shouting:
+
+"The ultimatum is rejected. It's war. It's war!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH
+
+
+Philippe went downstairs as soon as he was dressed. He found all the
+servants gathered in the hall, discussing the news. Victor confirmed it:
+he had come straight from Noirmont.
+
+Moreover, the postman had heard from a gendarme that the railway-station
+at the sub-prefecture was occupied by soldiers. He himself, when he left
+Saint-�lophe, had seen army telegraphists on duty in the post-office.
+
+These hasty measures fitted in with the rejection of the ultimatum and
+went to prove the imminence of the dreaded catastrophe.
+
+Philippe could not help saying:
+
+"That means war."
+
+"It's what I've been shouting from the house-tops for the last two
+days!" proclaimed Victor, who seemed greatly excited. "Oughtn't we to
+make preparations, here? At two steps from the frontier?"
+
+But a bell rang. Catherine ran to the drawing-room, where Mme. Morestal
+appeared:
+
+"Where were you? I have been looking for you. Hasn't the doctor been?
+Oh, there you are, Philippe! Quick, telephone to the doctor...."
+
+"Is my father ...?"
+
+"Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he
+ought.... It may be the morphia.... You had better telephone."
+
+She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one
+tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was
+increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air:
+
+"What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away
+and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize ..."
+
+And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round:
+
+"Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize.... The master's
+quite well again.... Well, then, they should make up their minds!..."
+
+"Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant.
+"Suppose the enemy invade us?"
+
+They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the
+doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window.
+
+An old woman entered, an old woman who was employed at the Old Mill as
+a charwoman. She waved her arms about:
+
+"Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest,
+who is with his regiment?... And the other, who is in the reserve?... Is
+it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!"
+
+"Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene.
+"You'll soon see if it's nonsense!... They'll all have to go ... my
+husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans."
+
+She was accompanied by a child of three or four years old and in her
+arms carried another, in swaddling-clothes, who was whimpering.
+
+"Of course they'll have to go," said Victor. "And what about me? You'll
+see, they'll call me to the colours, though I'm past the age!... You'll
+see!..."
+
+"You as well as the rest," grinned the gardener, who now entered in his
+turn. "As long as one can hold a rifle.... But our eldest, Henriot,
+who's sixteen: do you think they'll forget him?"
+
+"Oh, as for him," scolded the mother, "I shall hide him if they try to
+take him from me!"
+
+"And what about the gendarmes?"
+
+All were gesticulating and talking together. And Victor repeated:
+
+"Meantime, we had better be off. Shut up the house and go. That's the
+wisest. We can't remain here like this, at two steps from the frontier."
+
+In his eyes, war represented the disordered flight of the old men and
+the women, running away in herds and pushing before them carts loaded
+with furniture and bedding. And he stamped his foot, resolved upon
+making an immediate move.
+
+But a great hullabaloo arose on the terrace. A little farm-labourer came
+rushing into the drawing-room:
+
+"He's seen some! He's seen some!"
+
+He was running in front of his employer, Farmer Saboureux, who arrived
+like a whirlwind, with his eyes starting out of his head:
+
+"I've seen some! I've seen some! There were five of them! I've seen
+some!"
+
+"Seen what? Seen what?" said Victor, shaking him. "What have you seen?"
+
+"Uhlans!"
+
+"Uhlans! Are you sure?"
+
+"As I see you now! There were five of them on horseback! Oh, I knew them
+again ... it wasn't the first time!... Uhlans, I tell you!... They'll
+burn everything down!"
+
+Mme. Morestal came running up at the noise which he made:
+
+"Do be quiet! What's the matter with you?"
+
+"I've seen some!" yelled Saboureux. "Uhlans! They've gone off to fetch
+the others."
+
+"Uhlans!" she gasped in dismay.
+
+"Yes, like last time!"
+
+"Oh, heaven! Is it possible?"
+
+"I saw them, I say.... Go and tell monsieur le maire."
+
+She lost her temper:
+
+"Tell him? But he's ill!... And be quiet, you, I've had enough of it....
+Philippe, is the doctor coming?"
+
+Philippe put down the telephone:
+
+"The line is engaged by the military, it's not available for private
+communications."
+
+"Oh, but this is terrible!" said the old lady. "What's to become of us?"
+
+She thought only of Morestal, confined to his room, and of the
+inconvenience which he would suffer through this state of things.
+
+A bicycle-bell was heard outside.
+
+"Ah!" cried the gardener, leaning out of the window on the garden side.
+"There's my boy coming.... How the rascal is growing! And you think,
+mother, that they'll leave him at home to pluck the geese? A sharp lad
+like that?..."
+
+A few seconds later, the boy was in the drawing-room. Breathless,
+staggering, he reeled back against the table and blurted out, in a
+hollow voice:
+
+"It's ... war!..."
+
+Philippe, who retained some hope in spite of everything, flew at him:
+
+"War?"
+
+"Yes ... it's declared...."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"They didn't say."
+
+And Saboureux, seized with fresh anger, stuttered:
+
+"Of course!... I said so!... I saw the Uhlans ... there were five of
+them."
+
+There was a stir among the servants. All rushed to meet a new arrival,
+Gridoux, the official game-keeper, who came prancing along the terrace,
+brandishing a stick. He pushed them aside:
+
+"Don't bother me!... I've a message to give! Where's monsieur le maire?
+He must come at once! They're waiting for him!"
+
+He seemed furious at not finding the Mayor of Saint-�lophe there, ready
+to go back with him.
+
+"Not so loud, not so loud, Gridoux," Mme. Morestal ordered. "You'll wake
+him up."
+
+"He's got to be woke up. I've been sent from the town-hall.... He's got
+to come at once."
+
+Philippe laid hold of him:
+
+"Stop that noise, I tell you, hang it all! My father is ill."
+
+"That doesn't matter. I've got the butcher's cart.... I'll take him with
+me straight away, as he is."
+
+"But it's impossible," moaned Mme. Morestal. "He's in bed."
+
+"That doesn't matter.... There's orders to be given.... There's a whole
+company of soldiers ... soldiers from the manoeuvres.... The town-hall
+is upside down.... He's the only one to put things right."
+
+"Nonsense! Where are his deputies? Arnauld? Walter?"
+
+"They've lost their heads."
+
+"Who's at the town-hall?"
+
+"Everybody."
+
+"The parish-priest?"
+
+"A milksop!"
+
+"The parson?"
+
+"An ass! There's only one man who isn't crying like the others.... But
+M. Morestal would never consent.... They're not friends."
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The school-master."
+
+"Let them obey him, then!... The school-master will do!... Let him give
+orders in my husband's name."
+
+The wish to save Morestal any annoyance gave her a sudden authority.
+And she pushed everybody out, to the stairs, to the hall:
+
+"There, go away, all of you.... Gridoux, go back to the town-hall...."
+
+"Yes, that's it," said Saboureux, gripping the gamekeeper's arm, "go
+back to Saint-�lophe, Gridoux, and send the soldiers to me, eh? Let them
+defend me, hang it all! The Uhlans will burn down everything, my house,
+my barn!"
+
+They all went out in high excitement. Philippe was able for a long time
+to distinguish Farmer Saboureux's exclamations through the garden
+window. And the picture of all those anxious, noisy people, drunk with
+talk and action, rushing from side to side in obedience to unreasoning
+impulses, that picture suggested to him a vision of the great mad crowds
+which the war was about to let loose like the waves of a sea.
+
+"Come on," he said. "It's time to act."
+
+He took a railway-guide from the table and turned up the station at
+Langoux. The new strategic line passed through Langoux, the line which
+follows the Vosges and runs down to Belfort and Switzerland. He found
+that he could reach B�le and sleep at Zurich that same evening.
+
+He stood up and looked around him, with his heart wrung at the thought
+of going away like that, without bidding good-bye to any one. Marthe
+had not answered his letter and remained invisible. His father had
+turned him out and would never forgive him. He must go away by stealth,
+like a malefactor. "Well," he murmured, thinking of the act which he was
+on the point of accomplishing, "it's better so. In any case and in spite
+of everything, I was bound, now that war has been declared, to appear a
+miscreant and a renegade in my father's eyes. Have I the right to rob
+him of the least affectionate word?"
+
+Mme. Morestal came up from the garden and he heard her moaning:
+
+"War! Oh, heaven, war, like last time! And your poor father forced to
+keep his bed! Ah, Philippe, it's the end of all things!"
+
+She shifted a few chairs in their places, wiped the table-cover with her
+apron and, when the drawing-room seemed tidy to her eyes, went to the
+door:
+
+"Perhaps he is awake.... What will he want to do, when he hears?... If
+only he keeps quiet! A man of his age ..."
+
+Philippe went up to her, in an instinctive burst of confidence:
+
+"You know I'm going, mother?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"You're going? Well, yes, you are right. I dare say I shall persuade
+Marthe to come back to you...."
+
+He shook his head:
+
+"I'm afraid not...."
+
+"Yes, yes," she declared, "Marthe loves you very much. And then there
+are the children to bring you together. Leave it to me.... The same with
+your father: don't be alarmed.... Everything will smooth down in time
+between the two of you. Go, my boy.... Write to me often...."
+
+"Won't you kiss me, mother?"
+
+She kissed him on the forehead, a quick, cold kiss that revealed her
+lingering bitterness.
+
+But, as she was opening the door, she stopped, reflected and said:
+
+"You are going back to Paris, are you not? To your own place?"
+
+"Why do you ask, mother?"
+
+"An idea that came to me, that's all. My head is in such a state,
+because of your father, that I did not think of it before...."
+
+"What idea? Can you tell me?"
+
+"About this war.... But, no, as a professor, you're exempt, aren't you?"
+
+He understood her fears and, as he was unable to reassure her by
+confessing his secret intentions, he did not enlighten her further:
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm exempt."
+
+"Still, you spent some time in the reserve?"
+
+"Only at the government offices. And that's where we serve in time of
+war."
+
+"Oh," she said, "that's all right, that's all right!... Else I should
+have been very anxious.... You see, the mere thought that you might be
+fighting ... that you might be wounded ... oh, it would be horrible!"
+
+She drew him to her with a sort of violence that delighted Philippe and
+kissed him as he had longed to be kissed. He was nearly saying:
+
+"Do you understand, mother darling?... Do you understand what I was
+trying to do, the other day? Thousands and thousands of mothers will be
+made to shed tears.... Great as our private troubles are, they will
+pass. Those which begin to-morrow will never pass. Death is
+irreparable."
+
+But why waste words? Did not his mother's emotion prove him absolutely
+right?
+
+They remained for a few moments locked in each other's embrace and the
+old lady's tears fell upon Philippe's cheeks.
+
+At last, she said:
+
+"You are not going at once, are you?"
+
+"As soon as I have packed my bag."
+
+"What a hurry you are in! Besides, there's no train yet. No, I want to
+kiss you once more and to make sure that you have all you want. And
+then it's impossible for you and Marthe to part like this. I will speak
+to her presently. But I must go to your father first: he may want
+me...."
+
+He went with her as far as the sick man's room and, as she had taken
+from a cupboard a pile of towels that filled her arms, she said:
+
+"Open the door for me, will you?"
+
+Then he saw his father at the other end of the room, lying lifeless,
+very pale in the face, and Suzanne sitting at the foot of the bed. He
+clearly distinguished the red scratches on her cheeks and chin.
+
+"Shut the door, Suzanne," said Mme. Morestal, when she was inside.
+
+Suzanne did so. As she approached, she saw Philippe in the dusk of the
+passage. She did not make a movement nor give a start; and she closed
+the door upon him as though he had not been there.
+
+"She too," thought Philippe, "she too will never forgive me, any more
+than my father or Marthe."
+
+And he resolved to go away at once, now that his mother's affection had
+given him a little comfort.
+
+He found Victor at the foot of the garden-steps, indulging in
+lamentations in the midst of the other servants and recommending
+immediate flight:
+
+"We can pack up the plate, the clocks, the valuables in an hour and be
+off.... When the enemy arrive, they will find no one here...."
+
+Philippe called him and asked if it was possible to get a carriage at
+Saint-�lophe:
+
+"Oh, are you going, sir? You are quite right. But not just yet, are you?
+Presently, I suppose, with Mme. Philippe? I've orders to drive Mme.
+Philippe to Saint-�lophe. From there, there's the diligence that goes to
+Noirmont."
+
+"No, I am not going in that direction."
+
+"How do you mean, sir? There's only one line to Paris."
+
+"I sha'n't go straight to Paris. I want to take the train at Langoux."
+
+"The new line to Switzerland? But that's an endless journey, sir! It
+goes all the way down to Belfort."
+
+"Yes, that's it. How far is it from Saint-�lophe to Langoux?"
+
+"Three miles and a bit."
+
+"In that case, I shall walk," said Philippe. "Thank you."
+
+He was in a hurry to leave the Old Mill, for he felt that events were
+hastening to a crisis and that, at any moment, he might be prevented
+from carrying out his plan.
+
+As a matter of fact, when he turned back, he was passed by Henriot, the
+gardener's son, who was clapping his hands:
+
+"There they are! The soldiers of the manoeuvring company!... They are
+going to the Col du Diable, at the quick step. We shall see them from
+the terrace."
+
+He was followed by the other servants, by his mother, by his little
+brother, who, like himself, was waving his hands; and they all crossed
+the drawing-room.
+
+Philippe went to the edge of the terrace. The troops were already
+debouching in good order. They were young soldiers, beardless boys for
+the most part, and looked almost like children amusing themselves by
+marching in file. But he saw an unaccustomed expression of anxiety and
+doubt on their faces. They marched in silence, hanging their heads and
+as though bent by the fatigue of the recent manoeuvres.
+
+A word of command sounded in the rear and was repeated in a sharp voice
+by two non-commissioned officers. There was a momentary undulating
+movement. Then the column proceeded at the double down the slope that
+led to the �tang-des-Moines.
+
+And, when the last ranks had filed off below the terrace, two officers
+appeared, followed by a bugler. One of the two sprang briskly from his
+horse, flung the reins to the bugler and ran up the staircase, shouting:
+
+"I'll be with you presently, Fabr�gues.... Meet me in the Col du
+Diable.... Take up your position at Saboureux's Farm."
+
+On reaching the terrace, he raised his hand to his cap:
+
+"Can I see M. Morestal, please?"
+
+Philippe stepped forward:
+
+"My father is laid up, captain."
+
+The officer was obviously affected by the news:
+
+"Oh!" he said. "I was relying on M. Morestal. I have had the pleasure of
+making his acquaintance and he spoke to me of the Old Mill.... I now see
+what he meant. The position is really excellent. But, for the moment,
+monsieur, would you mind?... I know you are on the telephone here and I
+have an urgent message.... Excuse me ... it is such a serious time...."
+
+Philippe took him to the telephone. The officer pressed the button
+impatiently and, as he did not receive a reply at once, turned round:
+
+"Meanwhile, allow me to introduce myself ... Captain Daspry.... I met
+your father in connection with a rather funny incident, the slaughter of
+Farmer Saboureux's fowls.... Hullo! Hullo! Gad, how difficult it is to
+get put on!... Hullo! Hullo!... I even shocked M. Morestal by refusing
+to punish the culprit, one Duvauchel, an incorrigible
+anti-militarist.... An excuse like that would just have served the
+beggar's turn...."
+
+He had a rather vulgar type of face and a complexion that was too red;
+but his frank eyes and his gaiety of manner made him exceedingly
+attractive. He began to laugh:
+
+"To show his gratitude, Duvauchel promised me, this morning, to turn his
+back on the enemy, at the first shot, and to desert.... He has a
+chauffeur's place reserved for him in Switzerland.... And, as Duvauchel
+says, 'There's nothing like a French greaser.'... Hullo!... Ah, at
+last!... Hullo! Captain Daspry speaking.... I want the military post at
+Noirmont.... Yes, at once, please.... Hullo!... Is that Noirmont? The
+military post? I want Major Dutreuil.... Switch me on to him.... It's
+urgent."
+
+Captain Daspry ceased. Instinctively, Philippe took up the other
+receiver:
+
+"May I?"
+
+"Oh, certainly!..."
+
+And Philippe heard the following dialogue, with its swift and anxious
+questions and answers:
+
+"Is that you, Daspry?"
+
+"Yes, major."
+
+"Did the cyclists catch you up?"
+
+"Which cyclists?"
+
+"I sent three after you."
+
+"I've seen nothing of them so far. I'm at Morestal's."
+
+"The Old Mill?"
+
+"Yes, major ... I wrote to you about it."
+
+"Well, what is it, Daspry?"
+
+"Uhlans have been seen in the Col du Diable."
+
+"Yes, I know. The B�rsweiler cavalry are on the march."
+
+"What!"
+
+"They will cross the frontier in an hour from now, supported by two
+regiments of infantry."
+
+"What!"
+
+"That's what I sent my cyclists to tell you. Get to the Col du Diable as
+fast as you can."
+
+"My men are there, major. As soon as the enemy arrives, we will fall
+back, keeping in touch with them as we do so."
+
+"No."
+
+"Eh? But I can't do otherwise, I have only my company."
+
+"You must stand your ground, Daspry. You must stand your ground for two
+hours and a half or three hours. My battalion has just left barracks.
+The 28th are following us by forced marches. We shall be at the frontier
+by two o'clock in the afternoon. You must stand your ground."
+
+"But I say, major!"
+
+"You must stand your ground, Daspry."
+
+With a mechanical movement, the officer drew himself up, brought his
+heels together and replied:
+
+"We shall stand our ground, major."
+
+He replaced the receiver and thought for a few minutes. Then he said,
+with a smile:
+
+"By Jove, that's a nice beginning! Two hundred men against some
+thousands ... for three hours! If one of the 4th company remains alive,
+he'll be a lucky man...."
+
+"But it's madness!" Philippe protested.
+
+"Monsieur, the Alpine Rifles and the 28th of the line are on their way;
+and Dornat's division is certainly behind them. If they arrive too late,
+if the ridges of the Vosges are taken, if the frontier is crossed, if
+the Saint-�lophe valley is occupied and all this on the very day on
+which war is declared, you can imagine the consternation which this
+first check will produce all over France. If, on the other hand, a
+handful of men sacrifice themselves ... and _succeed_, the moral effect
+will be incalculable. I shall stand my ground for three hours,
+monsieur."
+
+The words were spoken simply, with the profound conviction of a man who
+realizes the full importance of his act. He was already on his way down
+the stone steps. Saluting Philippe, he added:
+
+"You can congratulate M. Morestal, monsieur. He is a far-seeing
+Frenchman. He foresaw everything that is happening. Let us hope that it
+is not too late."
+
+He leapt into the saddle, spurred his horse and set off at a gallop.
+
+Philippe followed him with his eyes as far as the �tang-des-Moines. When
+the officer had disappeared behind a dip in the ground, he gave way to
+an angry movement and muttered:
+
+"Play-acting!"
+
+However, he turned the telescope on the Col du Diable and saw soldiers
+all around Saboureux's Farm, running, scrambling up the rocks on every
+side with the agility of young goats. He reflected that they had
+forgotten their weariness and seemed to be diverting themselves with an
+exercise to which each contributed his own effort, his individual
+tactics and his qualities of self-reliance and initiative.
+
+He stood pensive for a few minutes. But time was pressing. He called
+Victor and went up to his room:
+
+"Quick, my bag."
+
+They stuffed the papers and manuscripts into it promiscuously, together
+with a little linen and the toilet-articles. The bag was strapped up.
+Philippe seized it:
+
+"Good-bye, Victor. Tell my mother I sent her my love."
+
+He crossed the landing. But some one darted out of an adjacent room. It
+was Marthe. She barred his way:
+
+"Where are you going?" she asked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IDEAS AND FACTS
+
+
+Marthe, who had kept her room since the day before, but remained
+attentive to all that was happening at the Old Mill, had, through her
+open door and window, heard and seen the hubbub, the fuss made by the
+servants, all the mad fluster of a house that feels itself threatened by
+an approaching cyclone.
+
+She had overcome her fit of anger and hatred, was now mistress of
+herself and was no longer frightened of a possible meeting between
+Philippe and Suzanne. Another torment obsessed her. What did her husband
+mean to do? Brought face to face with an eventuality which he had often
+contemplated, what line of conduct would he pursue?
+
+And it was he that she was watching. Before she went away, she wished to
+know. She overheard his first conversation with Victor. She saw his
+meeting with Captain Daspry from a distance. She saw him go to his room.
+She saw him come out again. And, in spite of herself, although urged by
+a very definite feeling, she stood up before him like an obstacle:
+
+"Where are you going?" she asked.
+
+Philippe did not lose countenance. He replied:
+
+"What interest can that have for you?"
+
+"Come," she said, "we have to speak to each other.... Come in here."
+
+She took him into her room, shut the door and repeated, in a masterful
+tone:
+
+"Where are you going, Philippe?"
+
+He replied, with the same decision:
+
+"I am going away."
+
+"There is no carriage."
+
+"I shall walk."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"To Noirmont."
+
+"To take which train?"
+
+"The train to Paris."
+
+"That's not true," she said, vehemently. "You are not going to Paris.
+You are going to Langoux, to take the train to Belfort."
+
+"Just so, but I shall be in Paris to-morrow morning."
+
+"That's not true! You do not mean to stop at Belfort. You will go on to
+B�le, to Switzerland. And, if you go to Switzerland, it will not be for
+a day, it will be for months ... for your life!"
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"You intend to desert, Philippe."
+
+He did not speak. And his silence dumbfoundered her. Violent as was the
+certainty that filled and angered her, Marthe was stupefied when he made
+no protest.
+
+She stammered:
+
+"Is it possible? You really intend to desert?"
+
+Philippe grew irritable:
+
+"Well, what has it to do with you? You had a letter from me yesterday,
+offering you an explanation. You have not even troubled to reply! Very
+well! I have done you an irreparable wrong. Our whole married life is
+shattered by my fault. Your attitude up to the present shows me that you
+never mean to forgive me.... Then what right have you to call me to
+account for what I do?"
+
+She repeated, in a low voice, with fixed eyes:
+
+"You intend to desert...."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is it really credible? I knew your ideas against war ... all the ideas
+in your books ... which agree with my own.... But I never thought of
+this.... You never spoke to me of it.... And then, no ... I could never
+have believed it...."
+
+"You will have to believe it, for all that, Marthe."
+
+He turned to the door. Once again she stood up in front of him.
+
+"Let me pass," he said.
+
+"No."
+
+"You are mad!"
+
+"Listen to me ... Philippe...."
+
+"I refuse to listen. This is not the time for quarrelling. I have made
+up my mind to go. I will go. It is not a rash impulse. It is a decision
+taken silently and calmly. Let me pass."
+
+He tried to clear the door. She pushed him back, suddenly seized with an
+energy which became all the fiercer as she felt her husband to be more
+inflexible. She had only a few minutes; and that was what frightened
+her. In those few minutes, by means of phrases, poor phrases flung out
+at random, she had to win the battle and to win it against a foe with
+whose mettle and obstinacy she was well acquainted.
+
+"Let me pass," he repeated.
+
+"Well, then, no, no, no!" she cried. "You shall not desert! No, you
+shall not do that infamous thing! There are things that one can't do....
+This thing, Philippe, is monstrous!... Listen, Philippe, listen while I
+tell you...."
+
+She went up to him and, under her breath:
+
+"Listen, Philippe ... listen to this confession.... Philippe, you know
+what you did on Sunday, your cruelty to your father, to Suzanne, to all
+of us: well, yes, I understood it.... I suffered the pangs of death, I
+suffered more than any of the others.... Each word that you spoke burnt
+into me like fire.... But, all the same, Philippe, I understood.... You
+had to sacrifice us to the cause of peace. It was your right, it was
+your duty to victimize us all in order that you might save a whole
+nation.... But what you now propose to do.... Oh, the shame of it!...
+Listen, if you did that ... I should think of you as one thinks of ... I
+don't know what ... as one thinks of the most contemptible, the most
+revolting ..."
+
+Shrugging his shoulders impatiently, he interrupted her:
+
+"I can't help it if you do not understand. It is my right ... and my
+duty also...."
+
+"Your duty is to join your regiment, now that war is declared, and to
+fight, yes, to fight for France, like every other Frenchman ... like the
+first peasant that comes along, who may tremble with all his poor human
+flesh, it is true, and whose heart sinks within him and whose stomach
+turns cold, but who believes that his duty lies in being there ... and
+who goes ahead, come what may! March on, as he does, Philippe! I have
+accepted all your opinions, I have shared them and backed them.... If
+there is to be an end of our union, at least let me address this last
+entreaty to you: join your regiment!... Your place is over there...."
+
+"My place is anywhere except where men commit the odious act of
+killing," exclaimed Philippe, who had listened to her in spite of
+himself and who now suddenly collected himself. "My place is with my
+friends. They trust me and I trust them. They are the men whom I must
+join."
+
+"Where? In Paris?"
+
+"No. We swore, at the first signal, to meet at Zurich. From there, we
+shall issue a manifesto calling upon all the thinkers and all the men of
+independent views in Germany and France."
+
+"But no one will answer your appeal!"
+
+"Never mind! The appeal will have gone forth. The world will have heard
+the protest of a few free men, professors like myself, tutors, writers,
+men who reflect, men who act in accordance with their convictions, and
+not like animals led to the slaughter."
+
+"You must defend your country," said Marthe, seeking to gain time, in
+the hope that something would come to her assistance.
+
+"I must defend my ideas!" declared Philippe. "If my country chooses to
+commit an act of folly, that is no reason why I should follow her. What
+nonsense it is, these two great nations, the most civilized in the
+world, going to war because they can't agree about the arrest of a petty
+official, or because one of them wants to eat up Morocco and the other
+is incensed at not being invited to the banquet! And, for that, they are
+going to fly at each other's throats, like wild beasts! To scatter
+mourning and misery on every side! No, I refuse to take part in it!
+These hands, Marthe, these hands shall not kill! I have brothers in
+Germany as well as France. I have no enmity against them. I will not
+kill them."
+
+She pretended to listen to his arguments with attention, knowing that,
+in this way, she would detain him a little longer. And she said:
+
+"Ah, your German brothers, whether they feel enmity or not, you may be
+sure that they will march against France! Is not your love for her the
+greater?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I love her, but just for the very reason that she is the most
+generous and noble of countries, that in her alone the idea of revolt
+against the law of blood and war can take root and sprout and blossom."
+
+"You will be treated as a coward."
+
+"To-day, perhaps ... but, in ten years, in twenty years, we shall be
+treated as heroes. Our names will be quoted as the names of the
+benefactors of humanity. And it will be France again that shall have had
+that honour ... through us! Through me!"
+
+"But your name will be reviled during your lifetime."
+
+"Reviled by those whom I despise, by those who have the cast of mind of
+that captain--though he's one of the best of them--who laughs and jokes
+when he is sent to certain death, he and his company."
+
+Marthe answered indignantly:
+
+"It's the laughter of a Frenchman, Philippe, of a Frenchman hiding his
+anguish under a little light chaff. A glorious laughter, which forms the
+pride of our race!"
+
+"One does not laugh in the presence of the death of others."
+
+"Yes, Philippe, when it is to hide the danger from them and to keep all
+the horror and all the terror for one's self alone.... Listen,
+Philippe!..."
+
+The sound of firing came from the distance, on the other side of the
+house. For some seconds, there was an uninterrupted crackle of musketry;
+then it came at rarer intervals; and, presently, there was no sound at
+all.
+
+Marthe whispered:
+
+"The first shot fired in the war, Philippe.... They are fighting on the
+frontier.... It's your country they are defending.... France is in
+danger.... Oh, doesn't your heart quiver like the heart of a son? Don't
+you feel the wounds they are giving her ... the wounds they intend to
+give her?..."
+
+He wore his attitude of suffering, keeping his arms crossed stiffly over
+his chest and half-closing his eyes. He answered, sorrowfully:
+
+"Yes, yes, I feel those wounds.... But why is she fighting? For what mad
+love of glory? Is she not intoxicated with successes and conquests?
+Remember our journey through Europe.... Wherever we went, we found
+traces of her passage: cemeteries and charnel-houses to bear witness
+that she was the great victress. Isn't that enough of conquests and
+triumphs?"
+
+"But, fool that you are," cried Marthe, "she is not trying to conquer!
+She is defending herself! Picture this vision, for a moment: France
+invaded once more ... France dismembered ... France wiped from the face
+of the earth...."
+
+"But no, no," he said, with a gesture of protest, "there is no question
+of that!"
+
+"Yes, there is, there is a question of that: it's a question of life or
+death to her.... And you, you are deserting!"
+
+Philippe did not stir. Marthe felt that he was, if not shaken, at least
+anxious, uneasy. But, suddenly, he uncrossed his arms and, striking the
+table with his fist:
+
+"I must! I must! I promised to!... And I was right to promise! And I
+will keep my oath! What you call deserting is fighting, but fighting the
+real fight! I too am going to wage war, but it will be the war of
+independence and brains; and my comrades in heroism are waiting for me.
+There, Marthe, I won't listen to you any longer!"
+
+She glued her back to the door, with her arms outstretched:
+
+"And the children! The children whom you are abandoning!"
+
+"You will send them to me later."
+
+She raised her hand:
+
+"Never, I swear it on their heads, never shall you set eyes on them
+again! The sons of a deserter!... They will disown you!"
+
+"They will love me, if they understand."
+
+"I will teach them not to understand you."
+
+"If they do not understand me, it is I who will disown them. So much the
+worse for them!"
+
+He took her by the shoulders and tried to push her away. And, when
+Marthe resisted, he jostled her, exasperated by the fear of the
+unforeseen obstacle that might spring up, the arrival of his mother,
+perhaps the apparition of old Morestal himself.
+
+Marthe weakened. He at once seized her wrist and pulled at the door.
+But, with one last effort, she thrust back her husband and, panting, in
+despair:
+
+"One word! One word more!" she implored. "Listen, Philippe, don't do
+this thing.... And, if you do not do it, well, I think I could.... Oh,
+it is horrible to coerce me like this!... Still, I won't have you go....
+Listen, Philippe. You know my pride, the bitterness of my feelings and
+all that I have suffered, all that I am suffering because of Suzanne.
+Well, I will forget everything. I offer not only to forgive, but to
+forget. Never a single word shall remind you of the past ... never an
+allusion ... I swear it! But don't desert, Philippe, I entreat you,
+don't do that!"
+
+She hung on to his clothes and pressed herself against him, stammering:
+
+"No, don't do that.... Do not inflict that disgrace upon your children!
+The sons of a deserter!... Oh, I entreat you, Philippe, stay! We will go
+away together ... and we will begin life again as it was before...."
+
+She dragged herself at his feet, humble and supplicating, and she
+received the terrible impression that her words were of no avail. She
+was encountering a rival idea, against which all her strength was
+shattered. Philippe did not hear her. No feeling of pity even turned him
+towards her.
+
+Calmly, with an irresistible movement, he clasped Marthe's wrists,
+gathered them in one of his hands, opened the door with the other and,
+flinging his wife from him, fled.
+
+Marthe was seized with a feeling akin to despair. However, the bag was
+still there and she believed that he would come back to fetch it. Then,
+realizing her mistake, she suddenly rose and started to run:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried.
+
+Like him, she was thinking of some outside interference, of old
+Morestal, whom the outcries might attract and whom Philippe would find
+on his path.
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!"
+
+She became scared, not knowing where to look for him. There was nobody
+in the garden. She returned to the drawing-room, for she seemed to hear
+a sound of voices. And in fact she saw a sergeant and a private soldier
+hurriedly crossing the terrace, with the gardener's son leading the way.
+
+"Follow me!" the brat commanded. "We'll go up to the roof.... You can
+see the whole valley from there.... Ah, the telescope!..."
+
+He caught up the instrument as he passed.
+
+Marthe rushed at them:
+
+"What's happening?"
+
+"Impossible to hold out over there," said the sergeant. "There are too
+many of them.... We're falling back...."
+
+"But, in that case, _they_ will be coming?"
+
+"Yes, yes, they're coming, right enough!..."
+
+Marthe went out on the terrace. A swarm of soldiers came running up the
+staircase.
+
+She saw Philippe in a corner. He was speaking to the men:
+
+"Are they coming?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have they crossed the frontier?"
+
+"No, not yet."
+
+He turned to his wife and said to her, as a piece of good news:
+
+"They have not crossed the frontier yet."
+
+And he went to meet another group of soldiers.
+
+Then Marthe believed that fate had sent her the aid for which she was
+praying. She could now do nothing more but trust to events.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE SACRED SOIL
+
+
+"Bugler!... Sound the rally ... at the double ... and quietly."
+
+It was Captain Daspry who now arrived, with a brisk gait, but with the
+grave and resolute face of a leader who is commanding at a solemn
+moment.
+
+He said to Philippe:
+
+"Is M. Morestal still unwell?"
+
+Mme. Morestal ran out from the house:
+
+"My husband is asleep.... He is very tired.... The morphia.... But, if
+there is anything you want, I can take his place. I know his intentions,
+his preparations."
+
+"We shall attempt the impossible," said the officer. And, addressing his
+lieutenant, he added, "It would have been madness to stay over there,
+wouldn't it, Fabr�gues? It's not a question of demolishing a few Uhlans,
+as we did, but of standing our ground against a whole brigade who were
+climbing the other slope.... Oh, it was all planned long ago!... And M.
+Morestal is a jolly clever man!..."
+
+The bugle sounded a low call and the Alpine Rifles emerged from every
+side, through the terrace, the garden and the back entrances.
+
+"That will do!" said the officer to the bugler. "They have heard ... and
+I don't want the enemy to hear as well."
+
+He took out his watch:
+
+"Twelve o'clock.... Two hours more, at least.... Oh, if I only had
+twenty-five minutes or half an hour in which to prepare my
+resistance.... But nothing will stop them.... The passage is free...."
+
+He called:
+
+"Fabr�gues!"
+
+"Yes, captain."
+
+"All the men in front of the coach-house, on the left of the garden. At
+the back of the coach-house is a hay-loft. Break down the door...."
+
+"Victor, show the gentleman the way," said Mme. Morestal to the servant.
+"Here is the key."
+
+"In the loft," continued the captain, "you will find two hundred bags of
+plaster.... Use them to block up the parapet of this terrace.... Quick
+as you can!... Every minute is worth an hour."
+
+He himself went to the parapet, measured it and counted the balusters.
+In the distance, within rifle-range, the Col du Diable formed a deep
+gash between the great rocks. Saboureux's Farm guarded the entrance. As
+yet, not a single figure of the enemy showed.
+
+"Ah, twenty minutes!... If I only had twenty minutes!" repeated the
+officer. "The position of the Old Mill is hard to beat. One would stand
+a chance or two ..."
+
+An adjutant and a couple more soldiers appeared at the top of the
+staircase.
+
+"Well?" asked Captain Daspry. "Are they coming?"
+
+"The vanguard was turning the corner of the factory, at five hundred
+yards from the pass," replied the adjutant.
+
+"Are there any more of our men behind you?"
+
+"Yes, captain, there's Duvauchel. He's wounded. They've laid him on a
+stretcher...."
+
+"Duvauchel!" cried the officer, anxiously. "It's not a serious wound, I
+hope?"
+
+"Upon my word ... I shouldn't like to say."
+
+"Dash it all! But then one saw nothing but that devil in the front
+line.... There was no holding him...."
+
+"Yes," chuckled the adjutant, "he has a way of his own of deserting in
+the face of the enemy!... He charges straight at them, the beggar!"
+
+But Mme. Morestal grew frightened:
+
+"A man wounded! I will go and prepare some bandages, get out the
+medicine-chest.... We have all that's wanted.... Will you come, Marthe?"
+
+"Yes, mother," replied Marthe, without budging.
+
+She did not remove her eyes from her husband and tried to read on
+Philippe's face the feelings that stirred him. She had first of all seen
+him go back to the drawing-room and cross the entrance-hall, as though
+he were thinking of the way out through the garden, which was still
+free. The sudden arrival of the riflemen pushed him back; and he talked
+to several of them in a low voice and gave them some bread and a flask
+of brandy. Then he returned to the terrace. His inaction, in the midst
+of the constant traffic to and fro, was obviously irksome to him. Twice
+he consulted the drawing-room clock; and Marthe guessed that he was
+thinking of the hour of the train and the time which he would need to
+reach Langoux Station. But she did not alarm herself. Every second was
+weaving bonds around him that tied him down without his knowing it; and
+it seemed to Marthe as though events had no other object than to make
+her husband's departure impossible.
+
+The resistance, meanwhile, was being organized. Swiftly, the riflemen
+brought the bags of plaster, which the captain at once ordered to be
+placed between every pair of balusters. Each of the bags was of the
+height and width corresponding with the dimensions of the intervals and
+left an empty space, a loop-hole, on either side. And old Morestal had
+even had the forethought to match the colour of the sacking with that of
+the parapet, so that it might not be suspected in the distance that
+there was a defence behind which sharpshooters lay hidden.
+
+On either side of the terrace, the wall surrounding the garden was the
+object of similar cares. The captain ordered the soldiers to set out
+bags at the foot of the wall so as to make the top accessible from the
+inside.
+
+But a sound of shouting recalled the captain to the drawing-room. The
+gardener's son came tumbling down from his observatory, yelling:
+
+"Saboureux's Farm is on fire! You can see the smoke! You can see the
+flames!"
+
+The captain leapt out on the terrace.
+
+The smoke was whirling above the barn. Gleams kindled, faint as yet and
+hesitating. And, suddenly, as though set free, the flames shot up in
+angry spirals. The wind at once beat them down again. The roof of the
+house took fire. And, in a few minutes, it was a violent flare,
+accompanied by the quick blaze of the rotten beams, the dry thatch, the
+trusses of hay and straw heaped up by the hundred in the barn and in the
+sheds.
+
+"To work!" shouted the captain, gleefully. "The Col du Diable is blocked
+by the flames.... They'll last for quite fifteen or twenty minutes ...
+and the enemy have no other road...."
+
+His excitement communicated itself to the men. Not one of them broke
+down beneath the weight of the bags, heavy though these were. The
+captain posted the non-commissioned officers at regular intervals, so
+that his orders could be passed on from the terrace to every end of the
+property.
+
+Lieutenant Fabr�gues came up. The materials were beginning to fall short
+and the lofty wall remained inaccessible to the marksmen in several
+places.
+
+Mme. Morestal behaved like a heroine:
+
+"Take the furniture, captain, the chairs, the tables. Break them up, if
+necessary.... Burn them even.... Do just as if my husband were here."
+
+"M. Morestal said something about a stock of cartridges," asked the
+captain.
+
+"In the boxes in the harness-room. Here are the keys."
+
+The men redoubled their activity. The Old Mill was ransacked; and the
+soldiers passed laden with mattresses, sofas, old oak chests, hangings
+also and carpets, with which they stopped up the holes and the windows.
+
+"The flames are spreading," said the captain, going to the top of the
+staircase. "There's nothing left of Farmer Saboureux's buildings.... But
+by what miracle ...? Who set the place on fire?..."
+
+"I did."
+
+A peasant stood at the top of the steps, in a scorched blouse, with his
+face all blackened.
+
+"You, Saboureux?"
+
+"Yes, I," growled Saboureux, fiercely. "I had to.... I heard you over
+there: 'If we could only stop them,' says you. 'If I had half an hour to
+spare!'... Well, there's your half an hour for you.... I set fire to
+the shanty."
+
+"And very nearly roasted me inside it," grinned Old Poussi�re, who was
+with the farmer. "I was asleep in the straw...."
+
+The captain nodded his head:
+
+"By Jove, Farmer Saboureux, but that's a damned sportsmanlike thing
+you've done! I formed a wrong opinion of you. I apologize. May I shake
+you by the hand?"
+
+The peasant put out his hand and then walked away, with his back bent in
+two. He sat down in a corner of the drawing-room. Poussi�re also huddled
+into a chair, took a piece of bread from his pocket, broke it and gave
+half to Saboureux, as though he thought it only natural to share what he
+had with the man who had nothing left.
+
+"Here's Duvauchel, sir!" announced a rifleman. "Here's Duvauchel!"
+
+The staircase was too narrow and they had to bring the stretcher round
+by the garden. The captain ran to meet the wounded man, who made an
+effort to stand on his legs:
+
+"What's up, Duvauchel? Are you hit?"
+
+"Not I, sir, not I," said the man, whose face was livid and his eyes
+burning with fever. "A cherry-stone tickled my shoulder, by way of a
+lark. It's nothing...."
+
+"But the blood's flowing...."
+
+"It's nothing, I tell you, sir.... I know all about it.... Saw plenty of
+it as a greaser!... It won't show in five minutes ... and then I'm
+off...."
+
+"Oh, of course, I forgot, you're deserting!..."
+
+"Rather! The comrades are waiting for me...."
+
+"Then begin by getting your wound dressed...."
+
+"My wound dressed? Oh, that's a good one! I tell you, sir, it's nothing
+... less than nothing ... a kiss ... a puff of wind...."
+
+He stood up for an instant, but his eyelids flickered, his hands sought
+for support and he fell back upon the litter.
+
+Mme. Morestal and Marthe hastened to his side:
+
+"Let me, mamma, please," said Marthe, "I'm used to it.... But you've
+forgotten the absorbent wool ... and the peroxide of hydrogen.... Quick,
+mamma ... and more bandages, lots of bandages...."
+
+Mme. Morestal went out. Marthe bent over the wounded man and felt his
+pulse without delay:
+
+"Quite right, it's nothing," she said. "The artery is uninjured."
+
+She uncovered the wound and, very tenderly, staunched the blood that
+trickled from it:
+
+"The peroxide, quick, mamma."
+
+She took the bottle which some one held out to her and, raising her
+head, saw Suzanne stooping like herself over the wounded man.
+
+"M. Morestal is waking up," said the girl. "Mme. Morestal sent me in her
+stead...."
+
+Marthe did not so much as start. She did not even feel as though an
+unpleasant memory had flitted through her mind, compelling her to make
+an effort to suppress her hatred:
+
+"Unroll the bandages," she said.
+
+And Suzanne also was calm in the face of her enemy. No sense of shame or
+embarrassment troubled her. Their mingled breath caressed the soldier's
+face.
+
+Nor did it seem that any memory of love existed between Philippe and
+Suzanne or that a carnal bond united them. They looked at each other
+unmoved. Marthe herself told Philippe to uncork a bottle of boracic. He
+did so. His hand touched Suzanne's. Neither he nor Suzanne felt a
+thrill.
+
+Around them continued the uninterrupted work of the men, each of whom
+obeyed orders and executed them according to his own initiative, without
+fuss or confusion. The servants were all in the drawing-room. The women
+aided in the work. Amid the great anguish that oppressed every heart at
+the first formidable breath of war, no one thought of anything but his
+individual task, that contribution of heroism which fate was claiming
+from one and all. What mattered the petty wounds of pride, the petty
+griefs to which the subtleties of love give rise! What signified the
+petty treacheries of daily life!
+
+"He's better," said Marthe. "Here, Suzanne, let him sniff at the
+smelling-salts."
+
+Duvauchel opened his eyes. He saw Marthe and Suzanne, smiled and
+murmured:
+
+"By Jingo!... It was worth while!... Duvauchel's a lucky dog!..."
+
+But an unexpected silence fell upon the great drawing-room, like a
+spontaneous cessation of all the organs at work. And, suddenly, a voice
+was heard on the threshold:
+
+"_They_ have crossed the frontier! Two of them have crossed the
+frontier!"
+
+And Victor exclaimed:
+
+"And there are more coming! You can see their helmets.... They are
+coming! They are in France!"
+
+The women fell on their knees. One of them moaned:
+
+"O God, have pity on us!"
+
+Marthe had joined Philippe at the terrace-door and they heard Captain
+Daspry repeating in a low voice, with an accent of despair:
+
+"Yes, they are in France ... they have crossed the frontier."
+
+"They are in France, Philippe," said Marthe, taking her husband's hand.
+
+And she felt his hand tremble.
+
+Drawing himself up quickly, the captain commanded:
+
+"Not a shot!... Let no one show himself!"
+
+The order flew from mouth to mouth and silence and immobility reigned in
+the Old Mill, from one end to the other of the house and grounds. Each
+one stood at his post. All along the wall, the soldiers kept themselves
+hidden, perched upright on their improvised talus.
+
+At that moment, one of the drawing-room doors opened and old Morestal
+appeared on his wife's arm. Dressed in a pair of trousers and a
+waistcoat, bare-headed, tangle-haired, with a handkerchief fastened
+round his neck, he staggered on his wavering legs. Nevertheless, a sort
+of gladness, like an inward smile, lighted his features.
+
+"Let me be," he said to his wife, who was endeavouring to support him.
+
+He steadied his gait and walked to the gun-rack, where the twelve rifles
+stood in a row.
+
+He took out one with feverish haste, felt it, with the touch of a
+sportsman recognizing his favourite weapon, passed in front of Philippe,
+without appearing to see him, and went out on the terrace.
+
+"You, M. Morestal!" said Captain Daspry.
+
+Pointing to the frontier, the old man asked:
+
+"Are they there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you making a resistance?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are there many of them?"
+
+"There are twenty to one."
+
+"If so ...?"
+
+"We've got to."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"We've got to, M. Morestal; and be easy, we shall stand our ground....
+I'm certain of it."
+
+Morestal said, in a low voice:
+
+"Remember what I told you, captain.... The road is undermined at two
+hundred yards from the terrace.... A match and ..."
+
+"Oh," protested the officer, "I hope it won't come to that! I am
+expecting relief."
+
+"Very well!" said Morestal. "But anything rather than let them come up
+to the Old Mill!"
+
+"They won't come up. It's out of the question that they should come up
+before the arrival of the French troops."
+
+"Good! As long as the Old Mill remains in our hands, they won't be able
+to man the heights and threaten Saint-�lophe."
+
+They could plainly see columns of infantry winding along the Col du
+Diable. There, they divided and one part of the men turned towards the
+Butte-aux-Loups, while the others--consisting of the greater number, for
+this was evidently the enemy's object--went down towards the �tang-des
+Moines, to seize the high-road.
+
+These disappeared for a moment, hidden by the bend of the ground.
+
+The captain said to Morestal:
+
+"Once the road is held and the assault begins, it will be impossible to
+get away.... It would be better, therefore, for the ladies ... and for
+you yourself ..."
+
+Morestal gave him such a look that the officer did not insist:
+
+"Come, come," he said, smiling, "don't be angry.... Rather help me to
+make these good people understand...."
+
+He turned to the servants, to Victor, who was taking down a rifle, to
+the gardener, to Henriot, and warned them that none but combatants must
+stay at the Old Mill, as any man captured with arms in his hands exposed
+himself to reprisals.
+
+They let him talk; and Victor, without thinking of retiring, answered:
+
+"That's as may be, captain. But it's one of the things one doesn't think
+about. I'm staying."
+
+"And you, Farmer Saboureux? You're running a big risk, if they prove
+that you set fire to your farm."
+
+"I'm staying," growled the peasant, laconically.
+
+"And you, tramp?"
+
+Old Poussi�re had not finished eating the piece of bread which he had
+taken from his wallet. He was listening and observing, with eyes wide
+open and an evident effort to attend. He examined the captain, his
+uniform, the braid upon his sleeve, seemed to reflect on mysterious
+things, stood up and seized a rifle.
+
+"That's right, Poussi�re," grinned Morestal. "You know your country
+right enough, once it needs defending."
+
+A man had made the same movement as the tramp, almost at the same time.
+One more division in the gun-rack was empty.
+
+It was Duvauchel, still rather unsteady on his pins, but wearing an
+undaunted look.
+
+"What, Duvauchel!" asked Captain Daspry. "Aren't we deserting?"
+
+"You're getting at me, captain! Let the beggars clear out of France
+first! I'll desert afterwards."
+
+"But you've only one arm that's any good."
+
+"A greaser's arm, captain ... and a French greaser's at that ... is
+worth two, any day."
+
+"Pass me one of them rifles," said the gardener's son. "I know my way
+about with 'em."
+
+Duvauchel began to laugh:
+
+"You too, sonnie? You want one? You'll see, the babes at the breast will
+be rising up next, like the others. Lord, but it makes my blood boil to
+think that they're in France!"
+
+All followed the captain, who allotted them a post along the parapet.
+The women busied themselves in placing ammunition within reach of the
+marksmen.
+
+Marthe was left alone with her husband. She saw that the scene had
+stirred him. In the way in which those decent folk realized their duty
+and performed it without being compelled to, simply and spontaneously,
+there was that sort of greatness which touches a man to the very depths
+of his soul.
+
+She said to him:
+
+"Well, Philippe?"
+
+His face was drawn; he did not reply.
+
+She continued:
+
+"Well, go.... What are you waiting for? No one will notice your
+flight.... Be quick.... Take the opportunity while it's here...."
+
+They heard the captain addressing his lieutenant:
+
+"Keep down your head, Fabr�gues, can't you? They'll see you, if you're
+not careful...."
+
+Marthe seized Philippe's arm and, bending towards him:
+
+"Now confess that you can't go ... that all this upsets your notions ...
+and that your duty is here ... that you feel it."
+
+"There they are! There they are!" said a voice.
+
+"Yes," said Captain Daspry, searching the road through the orifice of a
+loop-hole, "yes, there they are!... At six hundred yards, at most ...
+It's the vanguard.... They are skirting the pool and they haven't a
+notion that ..."
+
+A sergeant came to tell him that the enemy had hoisted a gun on the
+slope of the pass. The officer was alarmed, but old Morestal began to
+laugh:
+
+"Let them bring up as many guns as they please!... They can only take up
+positions which we command and which I have noted. A few good marksmen
+are enough to keep them from placing a battery."
+
+And, turning to his son, he said to him, quite naturally, as though
+nothing had ever parted them:
+
+"Are you coming, Philippe? We'll demolish them between us."
+
+Captain Daspry interfered:
+
+"Don't fire! We are not discovered yet. Wait till I give the order....
+There'll be time enough later...."
+
+Old Morestal had moved away.
+
+Philippe walked resolutely towards the gate that led to the garden, to
+the open country. But he had not taken ten steps, when he stopped. He
+seemed to be vaguely suffering; and Marthe, who had not left his side,
+Marthe, anxious, full of mingled hope and apprehension, watched every
+phase of the tragic struggle:
+
+"All the past is calling on you, Philippe; all the love for France that
+the past has bequeathed to you. Listen to its voice."
+
+And, replying to every possible objection:
+
+"Yes, I know, your intelligence rebels against it. But is one's
+intelligence everything?... Obey your instinct, Philippe.... It's your
+instinct that is right."
+
+"No, no," he stammered, "one's instinct is never right...."
+
+"It is right. But for that, you would be far away by now. But you can't
+go. Your whole being refuses to go. Your legs have not the strength for
+flight."
+
+The Col du Diable was pouring forth troops and more troops, whose
+swarming masses showed along the slope. Others must be coming by the
+Albern Road; and, on every side, along every path and through every gap,
+the men of Germany were invading the soil of France.
+
+The vanguard reached the high-road, at the end of the �tang-des-Moines.
+
+There was a dull roll of the drum; and, suddenly, in the near silence, a
+hoarse voice barked out a German word of command.
+
+Philippe started as though he had been struck.
+
+And Marthe clung to him, pitilessly:
+
+"Do you hear, Philippe? Do you understand? The German speech on French
+soil! Their language forced upon us!"
+
+"Oh, no!" he said. "That can't be.... That will never be!"
+
+"Why should it never be? Invasion comes first ... and then conquest ...
+and subjection...."
+
+Near them, the captain ordered:
+
+"Let no one stir!"
+
+Bullets spluttered against the walls, while the sounds of firing
+reverberated. A window-pane was smashed on the floor above. And more
+bullets broke fragments of stone from the coping of the parapet. The
+enemy, surprised at the disappearance of the French troops, were feeling
+their way before passing below that house, whose gloomy aspect must
+needs strike them as suspicious.
+
+"Ah!" said a soldier, spinning on his heels and falling on the threshold
+of the drawing-room, his face covered with blood.
+
+The women ran to his assistance.
+
+Philippe gazed haggard-eyed at that man who was about to die, at that
+man who belonged to the same race, who lived under the same sky as
+himself, who breathed the same air, ate the same bread and drank the
+same wine.
+
+Marthe had taken down a rifle and handed it to Philippe. He grasped it
+with a sort of despair:
+
+"Who would ever have told me ...?" he stammered.
+
+"I, Philippe ... I was sure of you. We have not to do with theories, but
+with implacable facts. These are realities, to-day.... The enemy is
+treading the bit of earth where you were born, where you played as a
+child. The enemy is forcing his way into France. Defend her,
+Philippe...."
+
+He clenched his fists around his rifle and she saw that his eyes were
+full of tears.
+
+He murmured, quivering with inward rebellion:
+
+"Our sons will refuse ... I shall teach them to refuse.... What I cannot
+do, what I have not the courage to do they shall do."
+
+"Perhaps, but what does the future matter!" she said, eagerly. "What
+does to-morrow's duty matter! Our duty, yours and mine, is the duty of
+to-day."
+
+A voice whispered:
+
+"They're coming near, captain.... They're coming near...."
+
+Another voice, beside Philippe, the voice of one of the women tending
+the wounded man, moaned:
+
+"He's dead.... Poor fellow!... He's dead...."
+
+The guns roared on the frontier.
+
+"Are you coming, Philippe?" asked old Morestal.
+
+"I'm coming, father," he said.
+
+Very quickly, he walked out on the terrace and knelt beside his father,
+against the balusters. Marthe knelt down behind him and wept at the
+thought of what he must be suffering. Nevertheless, she did not doubt
+but that, notwithstanding his despair, he was acting in all conscience.
+
+The captain said, clearly, and the order was repeated to the end of the
+garden:
+
+"Fire as you please.... Sight at three hundred yards...."
+
+There were a few seconds of solemn waiting ... then the terrible word:
+
+"Fire!"
+
+Yonder, along the barrel of his rifle, near an old oak in whose branches
+he once used to climb, Philippe saw a great lubber in uniform throw up
+his hands, bend his legs one after the other and stretch himself along
+the ground, slowly, as though to sleep....
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
+
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Frontier, by Maurice Leblanc.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
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+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
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+
+    .pagenum  { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+            /*  visibility: hidden;  */
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+<body>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Frontier
+
+Author: Maurice LeBlanc
+
+Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos
+
+Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28480]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRONTIER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>THE FRONTIER</h1>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>MAURICE LEBLANC</h2>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF "ARSENE LUPIN," "813," ETC.</h4>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4>
+
+<h3>ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS</h3>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/logo.jpg" width='100' height='97' alt="Publisher's logo" /></div>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>HODDER &amp; STOUGHTON<br />NEW YORK<br />GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</h3>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/fcover.jpg" width='463' height='700' alt="cover" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1912,<br />By Maurice Leblanc</p>
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1912,<br />By George H. Doran Company</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<h3><a href="#PART_I">PART I</a></h3>
+
+<div class="index">
+<ul>
+<li><span class="mono">CHAPTER</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Head Between the Bushes</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Girl With the Bare Arms</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Violet Pamphlet</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Philippe and His Wife</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Sheet of Note-Paper</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Plaster Statue</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Eve Triumphant</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Trap</span></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<h3><a href="#PART_II">PART II</a></h3>
+
+<div class="index">
+<ul>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IA">I</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Two Women</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IIA">II</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Philippe Tells a Lie</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IIIA">III</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Father and Son</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IVA">IV</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Enquiries</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VA">V</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Thunderclap</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIA">VI</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Butte-Aux-Loups</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIA">VII</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Marthe Asks a Question</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIA">VIII</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Stages to Calvary</span></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a href="#PART_III">PART III</a></h3>
+
+<div class="index">
+<ul>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IB">I</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Armed Vigil</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IIB">II</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">They Who Go to Their Death</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IIIB">III</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ideas and Facts</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IVB">IV</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Sacred Soil</span></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE FRONTIER</h1>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I</h2>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>A HEAD BETWEEN THE BUSHES</h3>
+
+
+<p>"They've done it!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"The German frontier-post ... at the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups."</p>
+
+<p>"What about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Knocked down."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>"See for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Old Morestal stepped aside. His wife came out of the drawing-room and
+went and stood by the telescope, on its tripod, at the end of the
+terrace.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see nothing," she said, presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you see a tree standing out above the others, with lighter foliage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And, to the right of that tree, a little lower down, an empty space
+surrounded by fir-trees?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups and it marks the frontier at that spot."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, I've got it!... There it is!... You mean on the ground, don't you?
+Lying flat on the grass, exactly as if it had been rooted up by last night's storm...."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about? It has been fairly felled with an axe: you
+can see the gash from here."</p>
+
+<p>"So I can ... so I can...."</p>
+
+<p>She stood up and shook her head:</p>
+
+<p>"That makes the third time this year.... It will mean more unpleasantness."</p>
+
+<p>"Fiddle-de-dee!" he exclaimed. "All they've got to do is to put up a
+solid post, instead of their old bit of wood." And he added, in a tone
+of pride, "The French post, two yards off, doesn't budge, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course not! It's made of cast-iron and cemented into the stone."</p>
+
+<p>"Let them do as much then! It's not money they're wanting ... when you
+think of the five thousand millions they robbed us of!... No, but, I say
+... three of them in eight months!... How will the people take it, on
+the other side of the Vosges?"</p>
+
+<p>He could not hide the sort of gay and sarcastic feeling of content that
+filled his whole being and he walked up and down the terrace, stamping
+his feet as hard as he could on the ground.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p>But, suddenly going to his wife, he seized her by the arm and said, in
+a hollow voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to know what I really think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, all this will lead to trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the old lady, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, no?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've been married five-and-thirty years; and, for five-and-thirty
+years, you've told me, week after week, that we shall have trouble. So, you see...."</p>
+
+<p>She turned away from him and went back to the drawing-room again, where
+she began to dust the furniture with a feather-broom.</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders, as he followed her indoors:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you're the placid mother, of course! Nothing excites you. As
+long as your cupboards are tidy, your linen all complete and your jams
+potted, you don't care!... Still, you ought not to forget that they
+killed your poor father."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't forget it ... only, what's the good? It's more than forty years ago...."</p>
+
+<p>"It was yesterday," he said, sinking his voice, "yesterday, no longer
+ago than yesterday...."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, there's the postman!" she said, hurrying to change the conversation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>She heard a heavy footstep outside the windows opening on the garden.
+There was a rap at the knocker on the front-door. A minute later,
+Victor, the man-servant, brought in the letters.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Mme. Morestal. "A letter from the boy.... Open it, will you?
+I haven't my spectacles.... I expect it's to say that he will arrive
+this evening: he was to have left Paris this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all!" cried M. Morestal, glancing over the letter. "Philippe and
+his wife have taken their two boys to some friends at Versailles and
+started with the intention of sleeping last night at the Ballon de
+Colnard, seeing the sunrise and doing the rest of the journey on foot,
+with their knapsacks on their backs. They will be here by twelve."</p>
+
+<p>She at once lost her head:</p>
+
+<p>"And the storm! What about last night's storm?"</p>
+
+<p>"My son doesn't care about the storm! It won't be the first that the
+fellow's been through. It's eleven o'clock. He will be with us in an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"But that will never do! There's nothing ready for them!"</p>
+
+<p>She at once went to work, like the active little old woman that she was,
+a little too fat, a little tired, but wide-awake still and so
+methodical, so orderly in her ways that she never made a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>superfluous
+movement or one that was not calculated to bring her an immediate advantage.</p>
+
+<p>As for him, he resumed his walk between the terrace and the
+drawing-room. He strode with long, even steps, holding his body erect,
+his chest flung out and his hands in the pockets of his jacket, a
+blue-drill gardening-jacket, with the point of a pruning-shears and the
+stem of a pipe sticking out of it. He was tall and broad-shouldered; and
+his fresh-coloured face seemed young still, in spite of the fringe of
+white beard in which it was framed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he exclaimed, "what a treat to set eyes upon our dear Philippe
+again! It must be three years since we saw him last. Yes, of course, not
+since his appointment as professor of history in Paris. By Jove, the
+chap has made his way in the world! What a time we shall give him during
+the fortnight that he's with us! Walking ... exercise.... He's all for
+the open-air life, like old Morestal!"</p>
+
+<p>He began to laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I tell you what would be the thing for him? Six months in camp
+between this and Berlin!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not afraid," she declared. "He's been through the Normal School.
+The professors keep to their garrisons in time of war."</p>
+
+<p>"What nonsense are you talking now?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>"The school-master told me so."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a start:</p>
+
+<p>"What! Do you mean to say you still speak to that dastard?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's quite a decent man," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"He! A decent man! With theories like his!"</p>
+
+<p>She hurried from the room, to escape the explosion. But Morestal was fairly started:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, theories! I insist upon the word: theories! As a
+district-councillor, as Mayor of Saint-&Eacute;lophe, I have the right to be
+present at his lessons. Oh, you have no idea of his way of teaching the
+history of France!... In my time, the heroes were the Chevalier d'Assas,
+Bayard, La Tour d'Auvergne, all those beggars who shed lustre on our
+country. Nowadays, it's Mossieu &Eacute;tienne Marcel, Mossieu Dolet.... Oh, a
+nice set of theories, theirs!"</p>
+
+<p>He barred the way to his wife, as she entered the room again, and roared in her face:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know why Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't find that large breakfast-cup anywhere," said Mme. Morestal,
+engrossed in her occupation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, just ask your school-master; he'll give you the latest up-to-date
+theories about Napoleon."</p>
+
+<p>"I put it down here, on this chest, with my own hand."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>"But there, they're doing all they can to distort the children's
+minds."</p>
+
+<p>"It spoils my set."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I swear to you, in the old days, we'd have ducked our school-master
+in the horse-pond, if he had dared.... But, by Jove, France had a place
+of her own in the world then! And such a place!</p>
+
+<p>... That was the time of Solferino!... Of Magenta!... We weren't
+satisfied with chucking down frontier-posts in those days: we crossed
+the frontiers ... and at the double, believe me...."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, hesitating, pricking up his ears. Trumpet-blasts sounded in
+the distance, ringing from valley to valley, echoing and re-echoing
+against the obstacles formed by the great granite rocks and dying away
+to right and left, as though stifled by the shadow of the forests.</p>
+
+<p>He whispered, excitedly:</p>
+
+<p>"The French bugle...."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there are troops of Alpines manoeuvring ... a company from
+Noirmont.... Listen ... listen.... What gaiety!... What swagger!... I
+tell you, close to the frontier like this, it takes such an air...."</p>
+
+<p>She listened too, seized with the same excitement, and asked, anxiously:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><p>"Do you really think that war is possible?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied, "I do."</p>
+
+<p>They were silent for a moment. And Morestal continued:</p>
+
+<p>"It's a presentiment with me.... We shall have it all over again, as in
+1870.... And, mark you, I hope that this time ..."</p>
+
+<p>She put down her breakfast-cup, which she had found in a cupboard, and,
+leaning on her husband's arm:</p>
+
+<p>"I say, the boy's coming ... with his wife. She's a dear girl and we're
+very fond of her.... I want the house to look nice for them, bright and
+full of flowers.... Go and pick the best you have in your garden."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled:</p>
+
+<p>"That's another way of saying that I'm boring you, eh? I can't help it.
+I shall be just the same to my dying day. The wound is too deep ever to
+heal."</p>
+
+<p>They looked at each other for a while with a great gentleness, like two
+old travelling-companions, who, from time to time, for no particular
+reason, stop, exchange glances or thoughts and then resume their journey.</p>
+
+<p>He asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Must I cut my roses? My Gloires de Dijon?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along then! I'll be a hero!"</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>Morestal, the son and grandson of well-to-do farmers, had increased his
+fathers' fortune tenfold by setting up a mechanical saw-yard at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, the big neighbouring village. He was a plain, blunt man,
+as he himself used to say, "with no false bottom, nothing in my hands,
+nothing up my sleeves;" just a few moral ideas to guide his course
+through life, ideas as old and simple as could be. And those few ideas
+themselves were subject to a principle that governed his whole existence
+and ruled all his actions, the love of his country, which, in Morestal,
+stood for regret for the past, hatred of the present and, especially,
+the bitter recollection of defeat.</p>
+
+<p>Elected Mayor of Saint-&Eacute;lophe and a district-councillor, he sold his
+works and built, within view of the frontier, on the site of a ruined
+mill, a large house designed after his own plans and constructed, so to
+speak, under his own eyes. The Morestals had lived here for the last ten
+years, with their two servants: Victor, a decent, stout, jolly-faced
+man, and Catherine, a Breton woman who had nursed Philippe as a baby.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>They saw but few people, outside a small number of friends, of whom the
+most frequent visitors were the special commissary of the government,
+Joranc&eacute;, and his daughter Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>The Old Mill occupied the round summit of a hill with slopes shelving
+down in a series of fairly large gardens, which Morestal cultivated with
+genuine enthusiasm. The property was surrounded by a high wall, the top
+of which was finished off with an iron trellis bristling with spikes. A
+spring leapt from place to place and fell in cascades to the bottom of
+the rocks decked with wild flowers, moss, lichen and maiden-hair ferns.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>Morestal picked a great armful of flowers, laid waste his rose-garden,
+sacrificed all the Gloires de Dijon of which he was so proud and
+returned to the drawing-room, where he himself arranged the bunches in
+large glass vases.</p>
+
+<p>The room, a sort of hall occupying the centre of the house, with beams
+of timber showing and a huge chimney covered with gleaming brasses, the
+room was bright and cheerful and open at both fronts: to the east, on
+the terrace, by a long bay; to the west, by two windows, on the garden,
+which it overlooked from the height of a first floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>The walls were covered with War Office maps, Home Office maps, district
+maps. There was an oak gun-rack with twelve rifles, all alike and of the
+latest pattern. Beside it, nailed flat to the wall and roughly stitched
+together, were three dirty, worn, tattered strips of bunting, blue, white and red.</p>
+
+<p>"They look very well: what do you say?" he asked, when he had finished
+arranging the flowers, as though his wife had been in the room. "And
+now, I think, a good pipe ..."</p>
+
+<p>He took out his tobacco-pouch and matches and, crossing the terrace,
+went and leant against the stone balustrade that edged it.</p>
+
+<p>Hills and valleys mingled in harmonious curves, all green, in places,
+with the glad green of the meadows, all dark, in others, with the
+melancholy green of the firs and larches.</p>
+
+<p>At thirty or forty feet below him ran the road that leads from
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe up to the Old Mill. It skirted the walls and then dipped
+down again to the &Eacute;tang-des-Moines, or Monks' Pool, of which it followed
+the left bank. Breaking off suddenly, it narrowed into a rugged path
+which could be seen in the distance, standing like a ladder against a
+rampart, and which plunged into a narrow pass between two mountains
+wilder in appearance and rougher in outline than the ordinary Vosges
+landscape. This was the Col du Diable, or Devil's Pass, situated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> at a
+distance of sixteen hundred yards from the Old Mill, on the same level.</p>
+
+<p>A few buildings clung to one of the sides of the pass: these belonged to
+Saboureux's Farm. From Saboureux's Farm to the Butte-aux-Loups, or
+Wolves' Knoll, which you saw on the left, you could make out or imagine
+the frontier by following a line of which Morestal knew every
+guiding-mark, every turn, every acclivity and every descent.</p>
+
+<p>"The frontier!" he muttered. "The frontier here ... at twenty-five miles
+from the Rhine ... the frontier in the very heart of France!"</p>
+
+<p>Every day and ten times a day, he tortured himself in this manner,
+gazing at that painful and relentless line; and, beyond it, through
+vistas which his imagination contrived as it were to carve out of the
+Vosges, he conjured up a vision of the German plain on the misty horizon.</p>
+
+<p>And this too he repeated to himself; and he did so this time as at every
+other time, with a bitterness which the years that passed did nothing to allay:</p>
+
+<p>"The German plain ... the German hills ... all that land of Alsace in
+which I used to wander as a boy.... The French Rhine, which was my river
+and the river of my fathers.... And now <i>Deutschland</i> ... <i>Deutsches Rhein</i>...."</p>
+
+<p>A faint whistle made him start. He leant over towards the staircase that
+climbed the terrace, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> staircase cut out of the rock, by which people
+coming from the side of the frontier often entered his grounds so as to
+avoid the bend of the road. There was nobody there nor anybody opposite,
+on the roadside slope all tangled with shrubs and ferns.</p>
+
+<p>And the sound was renewed, discreetly, stealthily, with the same
+modulations as before.</p>
+
+<p>"It's he ... it's he ..." thought M. Morestal, with an uncomfortable
+feeling of embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>A head popped from between the bushes, a head in which all the bones
+stood out, joined by prominent muscles, which gave it the look of the
+head of an anatomical model. On the bridge of the nose, a pair of
+copper-rimmed spectacles. Across the face, like a gash, the toothless, grinning mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"You again, Dourlowski...."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I come?" asked the man.</p>
+
+<p>"No ... no ... you're mad...."</p>
+
+<p>"It's urgent."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible.... And besides, you know, I don't want any more of it. I've
+told you so before...."</p>
+
+<p>But the man insisted:</p>
+
+<p>"It's for this evening, for to-night.... It's a soldier of the
+B&ouml;rsweilen garrison.... He says he's sick of wearing the German uniform."</p>
+
+<p>"A deserter.... I've had enough of them.... Shut up and clear out!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>"Now don't be nasty, M. Morestal.... Just think it over.... Look here,
+let's meet at four o'clock, in the pass, near Saboureux's Farm ... like
+last time.... I shall expect you.... We'll have a talk ... and I shall be surprised if ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>A voice cried from the drawing-room:</p>
+
+<p>"Here they come, sir, here they come!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the man-servant; and Mme. Morestal also ran out and said:</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing here? Whom were you talking to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I heard you!..."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I assure you...."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must have imagined it.... I say you were quite right. It's
+twelve o'clock and they are here, the two of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe and Marthe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they are coming. They are close to the garden-entrance. Let's
+hurry down and meet them...."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GIRL WITH THE BARE ARMS</h3>
+
+<p>"He hasn't changed a bit.... His complexion is as fresh as ever.... The
+eyes are a little tired, perhaps ... but he's looking very well...."</p>
+
+<p>"When you've finished picking me to pieces, between you!" said Philippe,
+laughing. "What an inspection! Why don't you give my wife a kiss? That's
+more to the point!"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe flung herself into Mme. Morestal's arms and into her
+father-in-law's and was examined from head to foot in her turn.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, I say, we're thinner in the face than we were!... We want
+picking up.... But, my poor children, you're soaked to the skin!"</p>
+
+<p>"We were out all through the storm," said Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you think happened to me?" asked Marthe. "I got
+frightened!... Yes, frightened, like a little girl ... and I fainted....
+And Philippe had to carry me ... for half an hour at least...."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to that?" said Morestal to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> his wife. "For half an
+hour! He's the same strong chap he was.... And why didn't you bring the
+boys? It's a pity. Two fine little fellows, I feel sure. And well
+brought up too: I know my Marthe!... How old are they now? Ten and nine,
+aren't they? By the way, mother got two rooms ready. Do you have separate rooms now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Marthe, "only down here!... Philippe wants to get up
+before day-break and ramble about the roads ... whereas I need a little rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Capital! Capital! Show them to their rooms, mother ... and, when you're
+ready, children, come down to lunch. As soon as we've finished, I'll
+take the carriage and go and fetch your trunks at Saint-&Eacute;lophe: the
+railway-omnibus will have brought them there by this time. And, if I
+meet my friend Joranc&eacute;, I'll bring him back with me. I expect he's in
+the dumps. His daughter left for Lun&eacute;ville this morning. But she said
+she had written to you...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Marthe, "I had a letter from Suzanne the other day. She
+didn't seem to like the idea, either, of going away...."</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later, Philippe and his wife settled themselves in two pretty,
+adjoining bedrooms on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> the second floor, looking out on the French side.
+Marthe threw herself on her bed and fell asleep almost immediately,
+while her husband, with his elbows on the window-sill, sat gazing at the
+peaceful valley where the happiest days of his boyhood had been spent.</p>
+
+<p>It was over yonder, in the straggling village of Saint-&Eacute;lophe-la-C&ocirc;te,
+in the modest dwelling which his parents occupied before they moved to
+the Old Mill. He was at the boarding-school at Noirmont and used to have
+glorious holidays playing in the village or roaming about the Vosges
+with his father: Papa Trompette, as he always called him, because of all
+the trumpets, bugles, horns and cornets which, together with drums of
+every shape and kind, swords and dirks, helmets and breast-plates, guns
+and pistols, were the only presents that his childhood knew. Morestal
+was a little strict; a little too fond of everything that had to do with
+principle, custom, discipline, exactness; a little quick-tempered; but,
+at the same time, he was the kindest of men and had no difficulty in
+winning his son's love, his frank and affectionate respect.</p>
+
+<p>Their only quarrel was on the day when Philippe, who was then in the top
+form, announced his intention of continuing his studies after he had
+passed his examination and of entering the Normal School. The father's
+whole dream was shattered, his great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> dream of seeing Philippe in
+uniform, with his sword at his side and the gold braid on the sleeve of his loose jacket.</p>
+
+<p>It came as a violent and painful shock; and Morestal was stupefied to
+find himself faced by an obstinate, deliberate Philippe, a Philippe
+wholly master of himself and firmly resolved to lead his life according
+to his own views and his own ambitions. For a week on end, the two
+argued, hurt each other's feelings, made it up again, only to fall out
+once more. Then the father suddenly yielded, in the middle of a
+discussion and as though he had all at once realized the futility of his efforts:</p>
+
+<p>"You have made up your mind?" he cried. "Very well! An usher you shall
+be, since that is your ideal; but I warn you that I decline all
+responsibility for the future and that I wash my hands of anything that happens."</p>
+
+<p>What happened was simply that Philippe's career was swift and brilliant
+and that, after a probationary term at Lun&eacute;ville and another at
+Ch&acirc;teauroux, he was appointed professor of history at Versailles. He
+then published, at a few months' interval, two remarkable books, which
+caused much heated controversy: <i>The Idea of Country in Ancient Greece</i>
+and <i>The Idea of Country before the Revolution</i>. Three years later, he
+was promoted to Paris, to the Lyc&eacute;e Carnot.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>Philippe was now approaching his fortieth year. Day-work and night-work
+seemed to have no effect upon his sturdy highland constitution.
+Possessing a set of powerful muscles and built on the same strong lines
+as his father, he found rest and recreation from study in violent
+exercise, in long bicycle-rides into the country or through the woods on
+the outskirts of Paris. The boys at the school, who held him in a sort
+of veneration, told stories of his exploits and his feats of strength.</p>
+
+<p>With all this, a great look of gentleness, especially about the eyes, a
+pair of very good, blue eyes, which smiled when he spoke and which, when
+at rest, were candid, childish almost, filled with dreams and kindness.</p>
+
+<p>By this time, old Morestal was proud of his son. On the day when he
+heard of his nomination to Carnot, he wrote, frankly:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Well done, my dear Philippe! So you're prospering now and in a
+fair way to obtain anything you like to ask for. Let me tell you
+that I am not in the least surprised, for I always expected that,
+with your great qualities, your perseverance and your serious way
+of looking at life, you would win the place which you deserved. So,
+once more, well done!</p>
+
+<p>"I confess, however, that your last book, on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> idea of country
+in France, puzzled me not a little. I know, of course, that you
+will not change your opinions on this subject; but it seems to me
+that you are trying to explain the idea of patriotism as due to
+rather inferior motives and that this idea strikes you not as
+natural and inherent to human societies, but as though it were a
+momentary and passing phase of civilization. No doubt I have
+misunderstood you. Still, your book is not very clear. You almost
+appear to be hesitating. I shall look forward eagerly to the new
+work, on the idea of country in our own times and in the future,
+which I see that you are announcing...."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The book to which Morestal alluded had been finished for over a year,
+during which Philippe, for reasons which he kept to himself, refused to
+deliver the manuscript to his publishers.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>"Are you glad to be here?"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe had come up and folded her two hands over his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Very," he said. "And I should be still more pleased if I had not that
+explanation with my father before me ... the explanation which I came
+down here to have."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>"It will be all right, my own Philippe. Your father is so fond of you.
+And then you are so sincere!..."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Marthe," he said, kissing her affectionately on the forehead.</p>
+
+<p>He had first met her at Lun&eacute;ville, through M. Joranc&eacute;, who was her
+distant cousin; and he had at once felt that she was the ideal companion
+of his life, who would stand by him in hours of trouble, who would bear
+him comely children, who would understand how to bring them up and how,
+with his assistance and with his principles, to make sturdy men of them,
+worthy to bear his name.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Marthe would have liked something more; perhaps, as a girl, she
+had dreamt that a married woman is not merely the wife and mother, but
+also her husband's lover. But she soon saw that love went for little
+with Philippe, a studious man, much more interested in mental
+speculation and social problems than in any manifestation of sentimental
+feeling. She therefore loved him as he wished to be loved, stifling
+within herself, like smothered flames, a whole throbbing passion made up
+of unsatisfied longings, restrained ardours and needless jealousies and
+allowing only just so much of this to escape her as was needed to give
+him fresh courage at times of doubt and defeat.</p>
+
+<p>Short, slender and of delicate build, she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> plucky, hardened to
+trouble, fearless in the face of obstacles, proof against disappointment
+after a check. Her bright, dark eyes betokened her energy. In spite of
+all the influence which Philippe wielded over her, in spite of the
+admiration with which he inspired her, she retained her personality, her
+own standpoint towards life, her likes and dislikes. And, to such a man
+as Philippe, nothing could be more precious.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you try and sleep a little?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I am going down to him."</p>
+
+<p>"To your father?" she asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I don't want to put it off any longer. As it is, I have almost
+done wrong in coming here and embracing him without first letting him
+know the exact truth about me."</p>
+
+<p>They were silent for a while. Philippe seemed undecided and worried.</p>
+
+<p>He said to her:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you agree with me? Or do you think I ought to wait till to-morrow?..."</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door for him to pass:</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "you are right."</p>
+
+<p>She often had those unexpected movements which cut short hesitation and
+put you face to face with events. Another would have launched out into
+words. But Marthe never shirked responsibility, even where it concerned
+but the smallest facts of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> ordinary life. Philippe used to laugh and
+call it her daily heroism.</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her and felt strengthened by her confidence.</p>
+
+<p>Downstairs, he was told that his father was not yet back and he resolved
+to wait for him in the drawing-room. He lit a cigarette, let it go out
+again and, at first in a spirit of distraction and then with a growing
+interest, looked around him, as though he were trying to gather from
+inanimate objects particulars relating to the man who lived in their midst.</p>
+
+<p>He examined the rack containing the twelve rifles. They were all loaded,
+ready for service. Against what foe?</p>
+
+<p>He saw the flag which he had so often gazed upon in the old house at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, the old, torn flag whose glorious history he knew so well.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the maps hanging on the wall, all of which traced the frontier in
+its smallest details, together with the country adjoining it on either
+side of the Vosges.</p>
+
+<p>He bent over the shelves of the little book-case and read the titles of
+the works: <i>The War of 1870, prepared in the historical section of the
+German General Staff</i>; <i>The Retreat of Bourbaki</i>; <i>The Way to prepare
+our Revenge</i>; <i>The Crime of the Peace-at-any-Price Party</i>....</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>But one volume caught his attention more particularly. It was his own
+book on the idea of country. He turned the pages and, seeing that some
+of them were covered and scored with pencil-marks, he sat down and began to read:</p>
+
+<p>"It's as I thought," he muttered, presently. "How are he and I to
+understand each other henceforth? What common ground is there between
+us? I cannot expect him to accept my ideas. And how can I submit to his?"</p>
+
+<p>He went on reading and noticed comments the harshness of which
+distressed him beyond measure. Twenty minutes passed in this way,
+disturbed by no sound but that of the leaves which he turned as he read.</p>
+
+<p>And, suddenly, he felt two bare arms round his head, two cool, bare arms
+stroking his face. He tried to release himself. The two arms clasped him
+all the tighter.</p>
+
+<p>He made an abrupt effort and rose to his feet:</p>
+
+<p>"You!" he cried, stepping back. "You here, Suzanne!"</p>
+
+<p>A most attractive creature stood before him, at once smiling and
+bashful, in an attitude of provocation and fear, with hands clasped,
+then with arms again outstretched, beautiful, white, fragrant arms that
+showed below the short sleeves of her fine cambric blouse. Her fair hair
+was divided into two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> loose waves, whose rebellious curls played about
+at random. She had grey, almond-shaped eyes, half-veiled by their dark
+lashes; and her tiny teeth laughed at the edge of her red lips, lips so
+red that one would have thought&mdash;and been quite wrong in thinking&mdash;that
+they were painted.</p>
+
+<p>It was Suzanne Joranc&eacute;, the daughter of Joranc&eacute; the special commissary
+and a friend of Marthe, who knew her when she was quite a child at
+Lun&eacute;ville. Suzanne had spent four months, last winter, in Paris with the
+Philippe Morestals.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" he repeated. "You, Suzanne!"</p>
+
+<p>She replied, gaily:</p>
+
+<p>"Myself. Your father came to call on us at Saint-&Eacute;lophe. And, as mine
+was out for a walk, he brought me back with him. I have just got out of
+the carriage. And here I am."</p>
+
+<p>He seized her by the wrists, in a fit of anger, and, in a hollow voice:</p>
+
+<p>"You had no business to be at Saint-&Eacute;lophe. You wrote to Marthe that you
+were going away this morning. You ought not to have stayed. You know
+quite well that you ought not to have stayed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" she asked, quite confused.</p>
+
+<p>"Why? Because, at the end of your visit to Paris, you spoke to me in
+words which I was entitled to interpret ... which I took to mean ...<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
+And I would not have come, if you had not written that you were...."</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, embarrassed by the violence of his own outburst. The tears
+stood in Suzanne's eyes and her face had flushed so deep a red that her
+crimson lips seemed hardly red at all.</p>
+
+<p>Petrified by the words which he had uttered and still more by those
+which he had been on the verge of uttering, Philippe suddenly, in the
+girl's presence, felt a need to be gentle and friendly and to make
+amends for his inexplicable rudeness. An unexpected sense of pity
+softened him. He took the small, ice-cold hands between his own and
+said, kindly, with the intonation of a big brother scolding a younger sister:</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you stay, Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"May I tell you, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, or I shouldn't ask you," he replied, a little nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to see you, Philippe.... When I knew that you were coming ...
+and that, by delaying my departure by one day ... just one day.... You
+understand, don't you?..."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent, rightly thinking that, if he answered the least word, she
+would at once say something that he did not want to hear. And they no
+longer knew how to stand opposite each other and they no longer dared
+look each other in the face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> But Philippe felt those small hands turn
+warm at the touch of his and felt all the life rush once more through
+that turbulent young being, like a source that is released and brings
+back joy and strength and hope.</p>
+
+<p>Steps were heard and a sound of voices rose in the hall outside.</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal," Suzanne whispered.</p>
+
+<p>And old Morestal shouted, long before entering the room:</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you, Suzanne? Here's your father coming. Quick, Joranc&eacute;, the
+children are here. Yes, yes, your daughter, too.... I brought her back
+with me from Saint-&Eacute;lophe.... But how did you come? Through the woods?"</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne slipped on a pair of long su&egrave;de gloves and, at the moment when
+the door opened, said, in a tone of implacable resolve and as though the
+promise must needs fill Philippe's heart with delight:</p>
+
+<p>"No one shall ever see my bare arms again.... No one, Philippe, I swear
+to you.... No one shall ever stroke them...."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VIOLET PAMPHLET</h3>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; was a heavy and rather unwieldy, pleasant-faced man. Twenty-five
+years before, when secretary to the commissary at Noirmont, he had
+married a girl of entrancing beauty, who used to teach the piano in a
+boarding-school. One evening, after four years of marriage, four years
+of torture, during which the unhappy man suffered every sort of
+humiliation, Joranc&eacute; came home to find the house empty. His wife had
+gone without a word of explanation, taking their little girl, Suzanne, with her.</p>
+
+<p>The only thing that kept him from suicide was the hope of recovering the
+child and saving her from the life which her mother's example would have
+forced upon her in the future.</p>
+
+<p>He did not have to look for her long. A month later, his wife sent back
+the child, who was no doubt in her way. But the wound had cut deep and
+lingered; and neither time nor the love which he bore his daughter could
+wipe out the memory of that cruel story.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>He buckled to his work, accepted the most burdensome tasks so as to
+increase his income and give Suzanne a good education, was transferred
+to the commissary's office at Lun&eacute;ville and, somewhat late in life, was
+promoted to be special commissary at the frontier. The position involved
+the delicate functions of a sentry on outpost duty whose business it is
+to see as much as possible of what goes on in the neighbour's country;
+and Joranc&eacute; filled it so conscientiously, tactfully and skilfully that
+the neighbour aforesaid, while dreading his shrewdness and insight,
+respected his character and his professional qualities.</p>
+
+<p>At Saint-&Eacute;lophe, he renewed his intimacy with old Morestal, who was his
+grand-uncle by marriage and who was very much attached to him.</p>
+
+<p>The two men saw each other almost every day. Joranc&eacute; and Suzanne used to
+dine at the Old Mill on Thursdays and Sundays. Suzanne would also often
+come alone and accompany the old man on his daily walk. He took a great
+fancy to her; and it was upon his advice and at the urgent request of
+Philippe and Marthe Morestal that Joranc&eacute; had taken Suzanne to Paris the
+previous winter.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>His first words on entering the room were to thank Philippe:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>"You can't think, my dear Philippe, how glad I was to leave her with
+you. Suzanne is young. And I approve of a little distraction."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Suzanne with the fervent glance of a father who has brought
+up his daughter himself and whose love for her is mingled with a touch
+of feminine affection.</p>
+
+<p>And he said to Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard the news? I am marrying her."</p>
+
+<p>"Really?" said Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to one of my cousins at Nancy, a man rather well-on in years,
+perhaps, but a serious, active and intelligent fellow. Suzanne likes him
+very much. You do like him very much, don't you, Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl seemed not to hear the question and asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Is Marthe in her room, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, on the second floor."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, the blue room. I was here yesterday, helping Mme. Morestal. I
+must run up and give her a kiss."</p>
+
+<p>She turned round in the doorway and kissed her hand to the three men,
+keeping her eyes fixed on Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"How pretty and charming your daughter is!" said Morestal to Joranc&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>But they could see that he was thinking of something else and that he
+was eager to change the conversation. He shut the door quickly and,
+returning to the special commissary, said:</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come by the frontier-road?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"And you haven't been told yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"The German post ... at the Butte-aux-Loups...."</p>
+
+<p>"Knocked down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>Morestal stopped to enjoy the effect which he had produced and then
+continued:</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say ... I say that it's most annoying.... They're in a very bad
+temper as it is, on the other side. This means trouble for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course. Haven't you heard that they're beginning to accuse me
+of encouraging the German deserters?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, they are. It seems that there's a secret desertion-office
+in these parts. I'm supposed to be at the head of it. And you, you are
+the heart and soul of it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, they can't stand me at any price!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor me either. Weisslicht, the German commissary at B&ouml;rsweilen, has
+sworn a mortal hatred against me. We cut each other now when we meet.
+There's not a doubt but that he is responsible for the calumnies."</p>
+
+<p>"But what proofs do they put forward?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any number ... all equally bad.... Among others, this: pieces of French
+gold which are said to have been found on their soldiers. So you see ...
+with the post tumbling down once more, the explanations that are certain
+to begin all over again, the enquiries that are certain to be opened...."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe went up to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, I don't suppose it's so serious as all that."</p>
+
+<p>"You think not, my boy? Then you haven't seen the stop-press telegrams
+in this morning's papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Philippe and his father. "What's the news?"</p>
+
+<p>"An incident in Asia Minor. A quarrel between the French and German
+officials. One of the consuls has been killed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, oh!" said Morestal. "This time ..."</p>
+
+<p>And Joranc&eacute; went into details:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the position is exceedingly strained. The Morocco question has
+been opened again. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> there's the espionage business and the story of
+the French air-men flying over the fortresses in Alsace and dropping
+tricolour flags in the Strasburg streets.... For six months, it has been
+one long series of complications and shocks. The newspapers are becoming
+aggressive in their language. Both countries are arming, strengthening
+their defences. In short, in spite of the good intentions of the two
+governments, we are at the mercy of an accident. A spark ... and the thing's done."</p>
+
+<p>A heavy silence weighed upon the three men. Each of them conjured up the
+sinister vision according to his own temperament and instincts.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"A spark ... and the thing's done."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let it be done!" said Morestal, with an angry gesture.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe gave a start:</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what! There must be an end to all this."</p>
+
+<p>"But the end need not be in blood."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense ... nonsense.... There are injuries that can only be wiped out
+in blood. And, when a great country like ours has received a slap in the
+face like that of 1870, it can wait forty years, fifty years, but a day
+comes when it returns the slap in the face ... and with both hands!"</p>
+
+<p>"And suppose we are beaten?" said Philippe.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>"Can't be helped! Honour comes first! Besides, we sha'n't be beaten.
+Let every man do his duty and we shall see! In 1870, as a prisoner of
+war, I gave my word not to serve in the French army again. I escaped, I
+collected the young rapscallions of Saint-&Eacute;lophe and round about, the
+old men, the cripples, the women even.... We took to the woods. Three
+rags served as a rallying-signal: a bit of white linen, a strip of red
+flannel and a piece out of a blue apron ... the flag of the band! There
+it hangs.... It shall see the light of day again, if necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; could not help laughing:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that will stop the Prussians?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't laugh, my friend.... You know the view I take of my duty and what
+I am doing. But it is just as well that Philippe should know, too. Sit down, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>He himself sat down, put aside the pipe which he was smoking and began,
+with the obvious satisfaction of a man who is at last able to speak of
+what he has most at heart:</p>
+
+<p>"You know the frontier, Philippe, or rather the German side of the
+frontier?... A craggy cliff, a series of peaks and ravines which make
+this part of the Vosges an insuperable rampart...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, absolutely insuperable," said Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a mistake!" exclaimed Morestal. "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> fatal mistake! From the
+first moment when I began to think of these matters, I believed that a
+day would come when the enemy would attack that rampart."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"That day has come, Philippe. For the last six months, not a week has
+passed without my meeting some suspicious figure over there or knocking
+up against men walking about in smocks that were hardly enough to
+conceal their uniform.... It is a constant, progressive underhand work.
+Everybody is helping in it. The electric factory which the Wildermann
+firm has run up in that ridiculous fashion on the edge of the precipice
+is only a make-believe. The road that leads to it is a military road.
+From the factory to the Col du Diable is less than half a mile. One
+effort and the frontier's crossed."</p>
+
+<p>"By a company," objected Joranc&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Where a company passes, a regiment can pass and a brigade can
+follow.... At B&ouml;rsweilen, five miles from the Vosges, there are three
+thousand German soldiers: on a war-footing, mark you. At Gernach, twelve
+miles further, there are twelve thousand; and four thousand horses; and
+eight hundred waggons. By the evening of the day on which war is
+declared, perhaps even earlier, those fifteen thousand men will have
+crossed the Col du Diable. It's not a surprise which they mean to
+attempt: that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> wouldn't be worth their while. It is the absolute
+crossing of the frontier, the taking possession of our ridges, the
+occupation of Saint-&Eacute;lophe. When our troops arrive, it will be too late!
+They will find Noirmont cut off, Belfort threatened, the south of the
+Vosges invaded.... You can picture the moral effect: we shall be done
+for! That is what is being prepared in the dark. That is what you have
+been unable to see, Joranc&eacute;, in spite of all your watchfulness ... and
+in spite of my warnings."</p>
+
+<p>"I wrote to the prefect last week."</p>
+
+<p>"You should have written last year! All this time, the other has been
+coming on, the other has been advancing.... He hardly takes the trouble
+to conceal himself.... There ... listen to him ... listen to him...."</p>
+
+<p>In the far distance, like the sound of an echo, deadened by the mass of
+trees, a bugle-call had rung out, somewhere, through the air. It was an
+indistinct call, but Morestal was not mistaken and he hissed:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it's he!... It's he.... I know the voice of Germany.... I know it
+when I hear it ... the hoarse, the odious voice!..."</p>
+
+<p>Presently, Philippe, who had not taken his eyes off his father, said:</p>
+
+<p>"And then, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then, my son, it was in anticipation of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> day that I built my
+house on this hill, that I surrounded my gardens with a wall, that,
+unknown to anybody, I stocked the out-houses with means of defence:
+ammunition, bags of sand, gun-powder ... that, in short, I prepared for
+an alarm by setting up this unsuspected little fortress at twenty
+minutes from the Col du Diable ... on the very threshold of the frontier!"</p>
+
+<p>He had planted himself with his face to the east, with his face to the
+enemy; and, clutching his hips with his clenched hands, in an attitude
+of defiance, he seemed to be awaiting the inevitable assault.</p>
+
+<p>The special commissary, who still feared that his zeal had been caught
+napping in this business, growled:</p>
+
+<p>"Your shanty won't hold out for an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"And who tells you," shouted Morestal, "who tells you that that hour is
+not exactly the one hour which we shall want to gain?... An hour! You
+never spoke a truer word: an hour of resistance to the first attack! An
+hour of delay!... That's what I wanted, that's what I offer to my
+country. Let every one be doing as I am, to the best of his power, let
+every one be haunted to fever-point by the obsession of the personal
+service which it is his duty to render to the country; and, if war
+breaks out, you shall see how a great nation can take its revenge!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>"And suppose we are beaten, in spite of all?" Philippe asked again.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>Old Morestal turned to his son as though he had received a blow; and a
+rush of blood inflamed his features. He looked Philippe in the face:</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe had an inkling of the conflict that would hurl them one against
+the other if he dared to state his objections more minutely. And he
+uttered words at random:</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, the supposition is not one of those which we can
+entertain.... But, all the same ... don't you think we ought to face the possibility?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Face the possibility of defeat?" echoed the old man, who seemed
+thunderstruck. "Are you suggesting that the fear of that ought to
+influence France in her conduct?"</p>
+
+<p>A diversion relieved Philippe of his difficulty. Some one had appeared
+from the staircase at the end of the terrace and in so noisy a fashion
+that Morestal did not wait for his son to reply:</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Saboureux? What a row you're making!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Farmer Saboureux, whose house could be seen on the Col du Diable.
+He was accompanied by an old, ragged tramp.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>Saboureux had come to complain. Some soldiers taking part in the
+man&oelig;uvres had helped themselves to two of his chickens and a duck. He
+seemed beside himself, furious at the catastrophe:</p>
+
+<p>"Only, I've a witness in old Poussi&egrave;re here. And I want an indemnity,
+not to speak of damages and punishment. I call it a calamity, I do:
+soldiers of our own country!... I'm a good Frenchman, but, all the same ..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal was too much absorbed in the discussion of his favourite ideas
+to take the least interest in the man's troubles; and the farmer's
+presence, on the contrary, seemed to him an excellent reason for
+returning to the subject in hand. They had other things to talk about
+than chickens and ducks! What about the chances of war? And the alarming
+rumours that were current?</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, Saboureux?"</p>
+
+<p>The farmer presented the typical appearance of those peasants whom we
+sometimes find in the eastern provinces and who, with their stern,
+clean-shaven faces, like the faces on ancient medals, remind us of our
+Roman ancestors rather than of the Gauls or Francs. He had marched to
+battle in 1870 with the others, perishing with hunger and wretchedness,
+risking his skin. And, on his return, he had found his shanty reduced to
+ashes. Some passing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> Uhlans.... Since that time, he had laboured hard to
+repair the harm done.</p>
+
+<p>"And you want it all over again?" he said. "More Uhlans burning and
+sacking?... Oh, no, I've had enough of that game! You just let me be as I am!"</p>
+
+<p>He was filled with the small land-owner's hatred against all those,
+Frenchmen or others, who were likely to tread with a sacrilegious foot
+on the sown earth, where the harvest is so slow in coming. He crossed
+his arms, with a serious air.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Poussi&egrave;re, what would you say if we went to war?" asked
+Morestal, calling to the old tramp, who was sitting on the parapet of
+the terrace, breaking a crust.</p>
+
+<p>The man was lean and wizened, twisted like a vine-shoot, with long,
+dust-coloured hair and a melancholy, impassive face that seemed carved
+out of old oak. He put in an appearance at Saint-&Eacute;lophe once every three
+or four months. He knocked at the doors of the houses and then went off again.</p>
+
+<p>"What country do you belong to, to begin with?"</p>
+
+<p>He grunted:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know much about it ... it's so long ago...."</p>
+
+<p>"Which do you like best? France, eh? The roads on this side?"</p>
+
+<p>The old chap swung his legs without <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>answering, perhaps without
+understanding. Saboureux grinned:</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't look at the roads, not he! He doesn't as much as know if he
+belongs to the country on the right or on the left! His country lies
+where the grub lies ... eh, Poussi&egrave;re?"</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon, seized with sudden ill-humour, Morestal lost his temper and
+let fly at the lukewarm, at the indifferent&mdash;working-men, townsmen or
+farmers&mdash;who think only of their comfort, without caring whether the
+country is humiliated or victorious. But what else could one expect,
+with the detestable ideas spread by some of the newspapers and carried
+to the furthermost ends of the country in the books and pamphlets hawked
+about by travelling agents?</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he cried, "the new ideas: those are the evil that is destroying
+us. The school-masters are poisoning the minds of the young. The very
+army is smitten with the canker. Whole regiments are on the verge of mutiny...."</p>
+
+<p>He turned a questioning glance upon Philippe, who, from time to time,
+nodded his head without replying, with a movement which his father might
+take for one of approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it so, Philippe? You see the thing close at hand, where you are:
+all those poltroons who weaken our energies with their fine dreams of
+peace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> at any price! You hear them, all the wind-bags at the public
+meetings, who preach their loathsome crusade against the army and the
+country with open doors and are backed up by our rulers.... And that's
+only speaking of the capital!... Why, the very provinces haven't escaped
+the contagion!... Here, have you read this abomination?"</p>
+
+<p>He took a little volume in a violet wrapper from among the papers heaped
+up on his table and held it before his son's eyes. And he continued:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Peace before All!</i> No author's name. A book that's all the more
+dangerous because it's very well written, not by one of those wind-bags
+to whom I was referring just now, but by a scholar, a provincial and,
+what's more, a Frenchman from the frontier. He seems even to bear our
+name ... some distant cousin, no doubt: the Morestals are a large family."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure?" blurted Philippe, who had turned pale at the sight of
+the pamphlet. "How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by accident.... A letter which was addressed to me and which said,
+'All good wishes for the success of your pamphlet, my dear Morestal.'"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe remembered. He was to have gone to the Old Mill last year; and
+the letter must have been sent to him by one of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>"And haven't you tried to find out?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"What for? Because I have a scoundrel in my family, that's no reason
+why I should be in a hurry to make his acquaintance! Besides, he himself
+has had the decency not to put his name to his scurrilous nonsense....
+No matter: if ever I lay my hands on him!... But don't let's talk of it...."</p>
+
+<p>He continued to talk of it, nevertheless, and at great length, as well
+as of all the questions of war and peace, history and politics that came
+to his mind. It was not until he had "got his budget off his chest," as
+he said, that he exclaimed, suddenly:</p>
+
+<p>"Enough of this palavering, my friends! Why, it's four o'clock!
+Saboureux, I'm your man.... So they've been making free with your
+poultry, have they? Are you coming, Joranc&eacute;? We'll see some fine
+soldier-chaps making their soup. There's nothing jollier and livelier
+than a French camp!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE</h3>
+
+<p>Marthe and Suzanne were very intimate, in spite of the difference in
+their ages. Marthe was full of indulgent kindness for her friend, whom
+she had known as quite a child, motherless and left to herself; whereas
+Suzanne was less even-tempered with Marthe, now gushing and coaxing, now
+aggressive and satirical, but always full of charm.</p>
+
+<p>When Marthe had finished unfastening the trunks, Suzanne herself
+insisted on emptying the travelling-bag and arranging on the table all
+the little things with which one tries, when away, to give one's room a
+look of home: portraits of the children, writing-cases, favourite books....</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be very snug here, Marthe," she said. "It's a nice, light room
+... and there's only a dressing-room between you and Philippe.... But
+how did you come to want two bedrooms?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was Philippe. He was afraid of disturbing me in the mornings...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," repeated the girl. "It was Philippe's suggestion...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>Then she took up one of the photographs and examined it:</p>
+
+<p>"How like his father your son Jacques is!... Much more so than Paul ... don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe came to the table and, bending over her friend, looked at the
+picture with those mother's eyes which seem to see in the inanimate
+image the life, the smile and the beauty of the absent one.</p>
+
+<p>"Which do you like best, Jacques or Paul?" asked Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"What a question! If you were a mother...."</p>
+
+<p>"If I were a mother, I should like that one best who reminded me most of
+my husband. The other would make me suspect that my husband had ceased to love me...."</p>
+
+<p>"You put down everything to love, my poor Suzanne! Do you imagine that
+there is nothing in the world but love?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are heaps of other things. But you yourself, Marthe: wouldn't you
+like love to fill a greater place in your life?"</p>
+
+<p>This was said with a certain sarcasm, of which Marthe felt the sting.
+But, before she had time to retort, Philippe appeared in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne at once cried:</p>
+
+<p>"We were talking about you, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply. He went to the window, closed it and then came back to
+the two young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> women. Suzanne pointed to a chair beside her, but he sat
+down by Marthe; and Marthe saw by his look that something had happened:</p>
+
+<p>"Have you spoken to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Still ..."</p>
+
+<p>He told her, in a few sentences, of the conversation, with the incident
+of the pamphlet and the words which his father had spoken against the
+author of that work. He repeated the words, a second time, with
+increasing bitterness. Then he stopped, reflected and, pressing his
+clenched fists to his temples, said, slowly, as though he were
+explaining matters to himself:</p>
+
+<p>"It's three years now that this has lasted ... ever since his letter on
+my appointment, in which he wrote about my second book on the idea of
+country. Perhaps I ought to have written to him then and there and told
+him of the evolution of my mind and the tremendous change which the
+study of history and of vanished civilizations had wrought in me."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it would have been better," said Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid to. I was afraid of hurting him.... It would have hurt him
+so terribly!... And my love for him is so great!... And then, Marthe,
+you see, the ideas which he defends and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> of which, in my eyes, he is the
+living and splendid incarnation are so beautiful in themselves that,
+after one has ceased to share them, one continues, for a long time, for
+always, to retain a sort of involuntary affection for them, deep down in
+one's inner self. They constituted the greatness of our country for
+centuries. They are vigorous, like everything that is religious and
+pure. One feels a renegade at losing them; and any word spoken against
+them sounds like blasphemy. How could I say to my father, 'Those ideas,
+which you gave me and which were the life of my youth, I have ceased to
+hold. Yes, I have ceased to think as you do. My love of humanity does
+not stop at the boundaries of the country in which I was born; and I do
+not hate those who are on the other side of the frontier. I am one of
+those men who will not have war, who will not have it at any price and
+who would give their life-blood to save the world the horror of that
+scourge.' How could I say such things as that to my father?"</p>
+
+<p>He rose and, pacing the room, continued:</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say them. I concealed the true state of my mind, as though I
+were hiding a shameful sore. At the meetings, in the newspapers to which
+I contribute by stealth, to my adversaries and to the majority of the
+men on my own side I was M. Philippe, denying my name and my
+personality, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>setting a bad example to those who are silent for
+prudence' sake and for fear of compromising themselves. I do not sign
+the pamphlets which I write; and the book in which I give the conclusion
+of my work has been ready for more than a year, without my daring to
+publish it. Well, that's over now. I can't go on as I have been doing.
+Silence is choking me. By humbling myself, I lower my ideals. I must
+speak aloud, in the hearing of all men. I will speak."</p>
+
+<p>He had gradually become animated, excited by his own words. His voice
+had increased in volume. His face expressed the glowing, irresistible,
+often blind enthusiasm of those who devote themselves to generous
+causes. And, yielding to a need to speak out which was anything but
+frequent with him, he went on:</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, you don't know what it means to a man to be fired with
+a great idea ... whether it be love of humanity, hatred of war or any
+other beautiful illusion. It lights us and leads us. It is our pride and
+our faith. We seem to have a second life, the real life, that belongs to
+it, and an unknown heart that beats for it alone. And we are prepared to
+suffer any sacrifice, any pain, any wretchedness, any insult ...
+provided that it gain the day."</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne listened to him with obvious admiration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Marthe appeared
+uneasy. Knowing Philippe's nature thoroughly, she was well aware that,
+in thus letting himself go, he was not only being carried away by a
+flood of eloquent words.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the window and drew a deep breath of the pure air which he
+loved. Then he returned and added:</p>
+
+<p>"We are even prepared to sacrifice those around us."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe felt all the importance which he attached to this little
+sentence; and, after a moment, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you referring to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"But you know, Philippe, that, when I agreed to marry you, I agreed to
+share your life, whatever it might be."</p>
+
+<p>"My life as it looked like being, but not as I shall be compelled to make it."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with a glimmer of apprehension. For some time now, she
+had noticed that he was even less communicative than usual, that he
+hardly ever spoke of his plans and that he no longer told her what he was working at.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, Philippe?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>He took a sealed letter from his pocket and showed her the address:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>To the Minister of Public Instruction.</i>"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>"What is in that letter?" asked Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>"My resignation."</p>
+
+<p>"Your resignation! The resignation of your professorship?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I shall send this letter the moment I have confessed everything to
+my father. I did not like to tell you before, for fear of your
+objections.... But I was wrong.... It is necessary that you should know...."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," she stammered. "I don't understand...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do, Marthe: you understand. The ideas which have taken
+possession of me little by little and to which I want to devote myself
+without reserve are dangerous for young brains to listen to. They form
+the belief of an age for which I call with might and main, but it is not
+the belief of to-day; and I have no right to teach it to the children
+entrusted to my care."</p>
+
+<p>She was on the verge&mdash;thinking of her own children, whose well-being and
+whose future were about to suffer through this decision&mdash;she was on the
+verge of exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"Why need you shout it from the house-tops? Stifle your vain scruples
+and go on teaching what you find in the manuals and school-books."</p>
+
+<p>But she knew that he was like those priests who prefer to incur poverty
+and opprobrium rather than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> preach a religion which they no longer
+believe.</p>
+
+<p>And she simply said:</p>
+
+<p>"I do not share all your opinions, Philippe. There are even some that
+terrify me ... especially those which I do not know, but which I half
+suspect. But, whatever the goal to which you are leading us, I will walk
+to it with my eyes closed."</p>
+
+<p>"And ... so far ... you approve?"</p>
+
+<p>"Entirely. You must act according to your conscience, send that letter
+and, first of all, tell your father everything. Who knows? Perhaps he will admit ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" exclaimed Philippe. "Men who look into the future can still
+understand the beliefs of former days, because those were their own
+beliefs when they were young. But men who cling to the past cannot
+accept ideas which they do not understand and which clash with their
+feelings and with their instincts."</p>
+
+<p>"So ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"So we shall quarrel and cause each other pain; and the thought of it
+distresses me infinitely."</p>
+
+<p>He sat down, with a movement of weariness. She leant over him:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not lose courage. I am sure that things will turn out better than
+you think. Wait a few days.... There is no hurry; and you will have time
+to see ... to prepare...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>"Everything turns out well when you speak," he said, smiling and
+allowing himself to be caressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately ..."</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish his sentence. He saw Suzanne opposite him, glaring at
+the pair of them. She was ghastly pale; and her mouth was wrung with a
+terrible expression of pain and hatred. He felt that she was ready to
+fling herself upon them and proclaim her rage aloud.</p>
+
+<p>He released himself quickly and, making an effort to jest:</p>
+
+<p>"Tush!" he said. "Time will show.... Enough of these jeremiads: what say
+you, Suzanne?... Suppose you saw to putting away my things?... Is everything done?"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe was surprised at the abrupt change in his manner. However, she replied:</p>
+
+<p>"There are only your papers; and I always prefer you to arrange them yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, then," he said, gaily.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe walked through the dressing-room to her husband's bedroom.
+Philippe was about to follow her and his foot touched the door-sill when
+Suzanne darted in front of him and barred the way with her outstretched arms.</p>
+
+<p>It happened so suddenly that he uttered a slight exclamation. Marthe
+asked, from the further room:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," said Suzanne. "We're coming."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe tried to pass. She pushed him back violently and with such a
+look of her eyes that he yielded at once.</p>
+
+<p>They watched each other for a few seconds, like two enemies. Philippe fumed:</p>
+
+<p>"Well? What does all this mean? Do you propose to keep me here indefinitely?..."</p>
+
+<p>She came nearer to him and, in a voice that shook with restraint and implacable energy:</p>
+
+<p>"I shall expect you this evening.... It's quite easy.... You can get
+out.... I shall be outside my door at eleven."</p>
+
+<p>He was petrified:</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad!..."</p>
+
+<p>"No.... But I want to see you ... to speak to you ... I must ... I am
+suffering more than I can bear.... It's enough to kill me."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were full of tears, her chin seemed convulsed with spasms, her lips trembled.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe's anger was mingled with a little pity; and, above all, he felt
+the need of putting an end to the scene as quickly as possible:</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, baby, look here!" he said, employing an expression which he
+often used to her.</p>
+
+<p>"You will come ... you must come ... that is why I stayed.... One hour,
+one hour of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> presence!... If you don't, I shall come here, I shall
+indeed.... I don't care what happens!"</p>
+
+<p>He had retreated to the window. Instinctively, he looked to see if it
+was possible to climb over the balcony and jump. It would have been absurd.</p>
+
+<p>But, as he bent forward, he saw his wife, two windows further, lean out
+and catch sight of him. He had to smile, to conceal his perturbation;
+and nothing could be more hateful to him than this comedy which a
+child's whims were compelling him to play.</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite pale," said Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so? I'm a little tired, I suppose. You too, you are looking ..."</p>
+
+<p>She broke in:</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I saw your father."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there he is, at the end of the garden, with M. Joranc&eacute;. They are
+making signs to you."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal and his friend were climbing up beside the waterfall and waving
+their hands to attract Philippe's attention. When he came under the
+windows, Morestal cried:</p>
+
+<p>"This is what we have arranged, Philippe. You and I are dining at Joranc&eacute;'s."</p>
+
+<p>"But ..."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no but about it; we'll explain why.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> I'll have the carriage got
+ready and Joranc&eacute; will go ahead with Suzanne."</p>
+
+<p>"What about Marthe?" asked Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Marthe can come if she likes. Come down here. We'll fix it all up."</p>
+
+<p>When Philippe turned round, Suzanne was standing close against him:</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come, won't you?" she said, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if Marthe does."</p>
+
+<p>"Even if Marthe doesn't ... I insist ... I insist.... Oh, Philippe, I
+implore you, don't drive me to extremities!"</p>
+
+<p>He was afraid of an outburst:</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact," he said, "why shouldn't I come? It's quite
+natural that I should dine at your house with my father."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean it?" she murmured. "Will you really come?"</p>
+
+<p>She seemed suddenly calmed; and her face assumed a look of childish delight:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how happy I am!... How happy I am! My beautiful dream will be
+fulfilled.... We shall walk together in the dark, without speaking a
+word.... And I shall never forget that hour.... Nor you either, Philippe
+... nor you either...."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SHEET OF NOTE-PAPER</h3>
+
+<p>A hand was passed through the bars of the gate at the top of the
+staircase leading to the terrace and seized the clapper of the little
+bell fastened to one of the bars. A push ... and the gate was open.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much difficulty about that," said the man, carefully stepping on to
+the terrace. "Since the mountain won't come to Dourlowski, Dourlowski must ..."</p>
+
+<p>The man stopped: he had heard voices. But, on listening, he found that
+the sound of voices came from behind the house. He quietly entered the
+drawing-room, therefore, walked straight across it and reached the
+windows on the other side. A little further, at the foot of the steps,
+he saw a carriage ready to start, with Suzanne and her father sitting in
+it. The Morestal family were standing round the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said Morestal. "Philippe and I will walk ... and
+we'll do the same coming home, won't we, my boy?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"And you, Marthe?" asked Joranc&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you. I will stay with mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'll send your men home to you soon ... especially as Morestal
+likes going to bed early. They will leave the house at ten o'clock
+precisely; and I will go a bit of the way with them, as far as the Butte."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," said Morestal. "We shall see the demolished post by
+moonlight. And we shall be here by half-past ten, mother. That's a
+promise. Off you go, Victor."</p>
+
+<p>The carriage drove off. Dourlowski, in the drawing-room, took out his
+watch and set it by the clock, whispering:</p>
+
+<p>"Consequently, they'll reach the Butte at a quarter past ten. That's a
+good thing to know. And now to inform old Morestal that his friend
+Dourlowski has come to hunt him up in his happy home."</p>
+
+<p>Putting two of his fingers to his mouth, he gave the same faint whistle
+which Morestal had heard that morning, something like the unfinished
+note of certain birds:</p>
+
+<p>"That's done it," he grinned. "The old boy pricked up his ears. He has
+sent the others for a stroll in the garden and he's coming this way...."</p>
+
+<p>He made a movement backwards on hearing Morestal's footstep in the hall,
+for he knew the old fellow was not given to joking. And, in fact,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+Morestal, the moment he entered, ran up to him and took him by the
+collar of his jacket:</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing here? What do you mean by it? How dare you?... I'll
+show you a road which you don't know of!"</p>
+
+<p>Dourlowski began to laugh with his crooked mouth:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear M. Morestal, you'll dirty your hands."</p>
+
+<p>His clothes were shiny and thick with grease, stretched over a small
+round body, that contrasted strangely with his lean and bony face. And
+all this formed a jovial, grotesque and rather alarming picture.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal let go his hold and, in an imperative tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Explain yourself and quickly. I don't want my son to see you here. Speak."</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to be lost, as Dourlowski saw:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, look here," he said. "It's a question of a young soldier in the
+B&ouml;rsweilen garrison. He's too unhappy for words where he is ... and he's
+mad at having to serve Germany."</p>
+
+<p>"A ne'er-do-well," growled Morestal. "A slacker who doesn't want to work."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not this one, I tell you, not this one. He means to enlist in the
+Foreign Legion. He loves France."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, always the same story. And then&mdash;pah<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>!&mdash;one never hears of them
+again. More gallows' seed!"</p>
+
+<p>Dourlowski seemed shocked and scandalized:</p>
+
+<p>"How can you say such a thing, M. Morestal?... If you only knew! A brave
+soldier who asks nothing better than to die fighting for our country."</p>
+
+<p>The old man started:</p>
+
+<p>"'Our country,' indeed! I forbid you to speak like that. Have you the
+least idea where you hail from? A scamp like you has no country."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget all that I have done, M. Morestal.... You and I, between us,
+have 'passed' four of them already."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal, who seemed to take no pleasure in
+this recollection. "Hold your tongue.... If the thing had never happened ..."</p>
+
+<p>"It would happen just the same, because you are a good-natured man and
+because there are things.... There.... It's like with this lad.... It
+would break your heart to see him.... Johann Baufeld his name is.... His
+father is just dead ... and he wants to go out to his mother, who was
+divorced and who lives in Algeria.... Such a nice lad, full of pluck...."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Morestal, "he's only got to 'pass'! You don't want me for that."</p>
+
+<p>"And what about the money? He hasn't a sou.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> Besides, there's no one
+like you to tell us all the paths, the best place to cross at, the best
+time to select...."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see about it.... I'll see about it," said Morestal. "There's no hurry...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is...."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"The B&ouml;rsweilen regiment is man&oelig;uvring on the slopes of the Vosges.
+If you'll lend us a hand, I'll run down to Saint-&Eacute;lophe first, buy a
+suit of second-hand French peasant's clothes and go and find my man.
+Then I'll bring him to the old barn in your little farm to-night ... as
+I have done before...."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he at this moment?"</p>
+
+<p>"His company is quartered in the Albern Woods."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's next door to the frontier!" cried Morestal. "An hour's walk, no more."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so; but how he is to reach the frontier? Where is he to cross it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's quite easy," said Morestal, taking up a pencil and a sheet of
+note-paper. "Look, here are the Albern Woods. Here's the Col du Diable.
+Here's the Butte-aux-Loups.... Well, he's only got to leave the woods by
+the Fontaine-Froide and take the first path to the left, by the Roche de ..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>He suddenly interrupted himself, looked at Dourlowski with a suspicious
+air and said:</p>
+
+<p>"But you know the road as well as I do ... there's no doubt about
+that.... So ..."</p>
+
+<p>"My word," said Dourlowski, "I always go by the Col du Diable and the factory."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal reflected for a moment, scribbled a few lines and a few words
+in an absent-minded sort of way and then, with a movement of quick
+resolution, took the sheet of note-paper, crumpled it into a ball and
+flung it into the waste-paper basket:</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, certainly not!" he cried. "I've had enough of this nonsense!
+One succeeds four times; and, at the fifth attempt.... Besides, it's not
+a business I care about.... A soldier's a soldier ... whatever uniform he wears...."</p>
+
+<p>"Still ..." mumbled Dourlowski.</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse. Not to mention that they suspect me over yonder. The German
+commissary gives me a queer look when he meets me; and I won't risk ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You're risking nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do; and clear out of this as fast as you can.... Oh, wait a
+second!... I think I ... Listen ..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal ran to the windows overlooking the garden. Quick as thought,
+Dourlowski stooped and fished Morestal's crumpled sheet out of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>waste-paper basket. He hid it in the palm of his hand and, raising his
+voice:</p>
+
+<p>"We'll say no more about it, as you don't see your way to help me," he
+said. "I give it up."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," said Morestal, who had seen no one in the garden. "You give
+it up, my friend: it's the best thing you can do."</p>
+
+<p>He took Dourlowski by the shoulders and pushed him towards the terrace:</p>
+
+<p>"Be off ... and don't come back.... There's nothing more for you to do
+here ... absolutely nothing...."</p>
+
+<p>He hoped to get rid of the fellow without being perceived, but, as he
+reached the gate, he saw his wife, his son and Marthe come up the
+staircase, after strolling round the walls of the Old Mill.</p>
+
+<p>Dourlowski took off his hat and distributed bows all round. Then, as
+soon as the road was clear, he disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal expressed her astonishment:</p>
+
+<p>"What! Do you still see that rogue of a Dourlowski?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was an accident!..."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very wrong to have him in the house. We don't even know where
+he comes from or what his trade is."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a hawker."</p>
+
+<p>"A spy, rather: that's what they say about him."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"Tah! In the pay of which country?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of both, very likely. Victor thinks he saw him with the German
+commissary, two Sundays ago."</p>
+
+<p>"With Weisslicht? Impossible. He doesn't even know him."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm telling you what they say. In any case, Morestal, be careful with
+that fellow. He's a bird of ill-omen."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, mother, no hard words. This is a day of rejoicing.... Are
+you ready, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PLASTER STATUE</h3>
+
+<p>There were several ways leading to Saint-&Eacute;lophe. First of all, the
+high-road, which goes winding down a slope some two miles long; next, a
+few rather steep short cuts; and, lastly, further north, the
+forest-path, part of which skirts the ridge of the Vosges.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go by the road, shall we?" said Morestal to his son.</p>
+
+<p>And, as soon as they had started, he took Philippe's arm and said, gleefully:</p>
+
+<p>"Only think, my boy, at the camp, just now, we met one of the
+lieutenants of the man&oelig;uvring company. We talked about the Saboureux
+business and, this evening, he is going to introduce us to his captain,
+who happens to be a nephew of General Daspry, commanding the army-corps.
+So I shall tell him what I have done at the Old Mill, you see; he will
+report it to his uncle Daspry; and Fort Morestal will be listed at once...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>He beamed with delight, held his head high and flung out his chest,
+while, with his free hand, he made warlike flourishes with his cane.
+Once he even halted and placed himself on guard and stamped his foot on the ground:</p>
+
+<p>"Three appels ... Engage ... Lunge! What do you say to that, Philippe,
+eh? Old Morestal is game yet!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe, full of affection for the old man, smiled. Now that he was
+acting on Marthe's advice and delaying the painful explanation, life
+seemed better to him, quite simple and quite easy, and he surrendered
+himself to the pleasure of seeing his father again and the scenes which
+he loved and renewing the childhood memories that seemed to await him at
+every turn of the road and to rise up at his approach:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember, father? This is where I fell off my bicycle.... I was
+standing under that tree when it was struck by lightning...."</p>
+
+<p>They stopped, recalled all the circumstances of the event and set off
+again, arm in arm.</p>
+
+<p>And, a little further, Morestal took up the thread:</p>
+
+<p>"And over there, do you remember? That's where you killed your first
+rabbit ... with a catapult! Ah, even in those days you promised to be a
+good shot ... the best at Saint-&Eacute;lophe, as I live!... But I was
+forgetting: you have given up your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> gun! A fellow of your build! Why,
+sport, my boy, is the great apprenticeship for war!..."</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>Saint-&Eacute;lophe-la-C&ocirc;te, once a flourishing little town, had never quite
+recovered from the wounds earned by its heroism during the war. It stood
+crowding round an old ruined castle which became visible at the last
+turn in the road. Nevertheless, situated on the borders of the
+department, at twelve or thirteen miles from Noirmont, the
+sub-prefecture, it owed a certain importance to its position near the
+frontier, facing the German garrisons, whose increasing activity was
+becoming a subject of uneasiness and had led to Joranc&eacute;'s appointment as
+special commissary.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute;, the first holder of this newly-created office, lived at the
+other end of the village and a little way outside it, in a low-storeyed
+house which had been greatly improved by Suzanne's good taste and fancy.
+It was surrounded by a garden with arbours and quaintly-clipped old
+trees and a clear, winding stream that flowed under the very doorstep.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly dark when Morestal entered, accompanied by Philippe.
+Everything was ready for their reception: the table was laid in a room
+hung with bright stuffs; flowers were scattered over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> cloth; two
+lamps shed a calm and even light; and Suzanne sat smiling, happy and charming.</p>
+
+<p>All this was very simple. And yet Philippe received the impression that
+special pains had been taken on his account. It was he who was expected;
+he was the master who was to be conquered and chained with invisible
+bonds. He felt sure of this; and Suzanne told him as much throughout
+dinner, with her fond glances, her attentive movements, her whole person
+bending towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought not to have come," he thought. "No, I ought not to have."</p>
+
+<p>And, each time that he met Suzanne's eyes, he called to mind his wife's
+discreet manner and her thoughtful air.</p>
+
+<p>"How absorbed you are, Philippe!" cried Morestal, who had never ceased
+talking while eating. "And you, Suzanne, what are you thinking about?
+Your future husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I!" she replied, without the least embarrassment. "I was thinking
+of those months I spent in Paris last winter. How good you were to me,
+Philippe! I remember the walks we used to take!..."</p>
+
+<p>They spoke of those walks; and, little by little, Philippe was surprised
+to realize the extent to which their lives had been mingled during that
+stay. Marthe, retained by her household duties, used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> remain at home,
+while they two escaped, like a couple of free and careless play-fellows.
+They visited the museums and churches of Paris, the little towns and
+castles of the Ile-de-France. An intimacy sprang up between them. And
+now it confused him to find Suzanne at once so near to him and so far,
+so near as a friend, so far as a woman.</p>
+
+<p>When dinner was over, he moved round to his father. Morestal, eager to
+go and keep his appointment with Captain Daspry, stood up:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you coming with us, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>The three men took their hats and sticks; but, when they reached the
+hall-door, after a whispered colloquy with Joranc&eacute;, Morestal said to his son:</p>
+
+<p>"On second thoughts, it's better that we should go alone. The interview
+must remain as secret as possible; and we shall be less easy if there
+are three of us...."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," added the special commissary, "you may just as well keep
+Suzanne company: it is her last evening. Good-bye for the present,
+children. You can be sure that the two conspirators will be back when
+the belfry-clock strikes ten, eh, Morestal?"</p>
+
+<p>They went off, leaving Philippe not a little perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne burst out laughing:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"My poor Philippe, you look very uncomfortable. Come, cheer up! I
+sha'n't eat you, I promise you!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't expect you will," he said, laughing in his turn. "But, all
+the same, it's strange ..."</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, it's strange," she said, completing the sentence, "that
+we should take a walk round the garden together, as I asked you. You
+will have to make the best of a bad job. Here comes the harmless,
+necessary moonlight."</p>
+
+<p>The moon emerged slowly from the great clouds stacked around a
+mountain-crest; and its light cast the regular shadows of the yews and
+fir-trees on the lawns. The weather was heavy with approaching storms. A
+warm breeze wafted the perfumes of plants and grass.</p>
+
+<p>Three times, they followed the outer path, along a hedge and along a
+wall. They said nothing; and this silence, which he found it impossible
+to break, filled Philippe with remorse. At that moment, he experienced a
+feeling of aversion for that capricious and unreasonable little girl,
+who had brought about those compromising minutes between them.
+Unaccustomed to women and always rather shy in their company, he
+suspected her of some mysterious design.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go over there," said Suzanne, pointing to the middle of the
+garden, where the shadows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> seemed to gather round a thick clump of
+shrubs and hornbeams.</p>
+
+<p>They made for the place through an arcade of verdure which brought them
+to a short flight of steps. It was a sunk amphitheatre, surrounded by a
+stone balustrade, with a small pond in the middle and, opposite, in a
+leafy frame, a female statue, with a moonbeam quivering upon it. A musty
+smell arose from this old-fashioned spot.</p>
+
+<p>"Venus or Minerva? Corinne perhaps?" said Philippe, joking to conceal
+his uneasiness. "I confess I can't quite make out. What is she wearing:
+a peplum or an Empire frock? And is that a helmet or a turban on her head?"</p>
+
+<p>"It depends," said Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean? What upon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it depends upon my humour. When I'm good and sensible, she's
+Minerva. When I look at her with a yearning heart, she becomes Venus.
+And she is also, according to the mood of the moment, the goddess of
+madness ... and the goddess of tears ... and the goddess of death."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with a playfulness that saddened Philippe. He asked:</p>
+
+<p>"And what is she the goddess of to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"The goddess of farewell."</p>
+
+<p>"Of farewell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, farewell to Suzanne Joranc&eacute;, to the girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> who has come here every
+day, for the last five years, and who will never come here again."</p>
+
+<p>She leant against the statue:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear goddess, what dreams we two have had, you and I! We used to
+wait together. For whom? For the Blue Bird ... for Prince Charming. The
+prince was to arrive on horseback, one day, jump the garden-wall and
+carry me off, slung across his saddle. He was to slip through the trees,
+one evening, and go up the steps on his knees, sobbing. And all the vows
+I made to my dear goddess! Just think, Philippe: I promised her never to
+bring a man into her presence unless I loved him! And I kept my promise.
+You are the first, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>He flushed red in the dark; and she continued, in a voice the gaiety of
+which rang false:</p>
+
+<p>"If you only knew how silly a girl is, dreaming and vowing things! Why,
+I even promised her that that man and I should exchange our first kiss
+before her. Isn't it ridiculous? Poor goddess! She will never see that
+kiss of love; for, after all, I don't suppose you intend to kiss me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, did you? There's no reason why you should; and the whole thing's
+absurd. So you will admit that this dear goddess has no sense and that
+she deserves to be punished."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>With a quick movement of the arm, she gave a push to the statue, which
+fell to the ground and broke into halves.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me alone ... leave me alone," said Suzanne, in an angry voice.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though her action had loosed in her a long-contained fury and
+wicked instincts which she was no longer able to control. She rushed
+forwards and madly kicked and raged at the broken pieces of the statue.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to interfere and took her by the arm. She turned upon him:</p>
+
+<p>"I won't have you touch me!... It's your fault.... Let me go ... I hate
+you!... Yes, it's all your fault!..."</p>
+
+<p>And, releasing herself from his grasp, she fled towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>The scene had not lasted twenty seconds.</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it!" snarled Philippe, though he was not in the habit of swearing.</p>
+
+<p>His irritation was so great that, if the poor plaster goddess had not
+already been reduced to fragments, he would certainly have flung her
+from her pedestal. But, above all things, he was swayed by one idea: to
+go away, not to see Suzanne again and to have done with this nonsense,
+of which he felt all the hatefulness and absurdity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>He also quickly made his way back to the house. Unfortunately, knowing
+no other outlet by which to escape, he went through the passage. The
+dining-room door was open. He saw the girl sitting huddled in a chair,
+with her head between her hands, sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know how artificial a woman's tears can be. Nor did he know
+the danger in those tears for him who is moved by the sight of their
+flowing. But, had he known it, he would just the same have stayed; for
+man's pity is infinite.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>EVE TRIUMPHANT</h3>
+
+<p>"There!" she said, after a few minutes. "The storm is over."</p>
+
+<p>She raised her beautiful face, now lit with a smile:</p>
+
+<p>"No black on my eye-lashes, you see," she added, gaily. "No rouge on my
+lips.... Take note, please.... Nothing that comes off!"</p>
+
+<p>This versatility of mood, the despair, which he had felt to be real,
+followed by a light-heartedness which he felt to be equally sincere; all
+this bewildered Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>She began to laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe! Philippe! You look as though you did not understand much
+about women ... and even less about girls!"</p>
+
+<p>She rose and went to the next room, which was her bedroom, as he saw by
+the white curtains and the arrangement of the furniture; and she
+returned with an album, in which she showed him, on the first page, the
+photograph of a child, crying:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>"Look, Philippe. I haven't changed. At two years old, just as now, I
+used to have great big sorrows and eyes that flowed like taps."</p>
+
+<p>He turned the pages of the album. There were portraits of Suzanne at all
+ages: Suzanne as a child, Suzanne as a little girl, Suzanne as a young
+girl; and each was more bewitching than the last.</p>
+
+<p>At the bottom of one page, he read:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Suzanne, twenty.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, how pretty you were!" he muttered, dazed by that image of beauty and gladness.</p>
+
+<p>And he looked at Suzanne, in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I have grown older," she said. "Three long years...."</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders without replying, for, on the contrary, he
+thought her lovelier still; and he turned the pages. Two loose
+photographs slipped to the floor. She put out her hand to take them, but
+did not complete the movement.</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" asked Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>He was much astonished when he examined one of the portraits:</p>
+
+<p>"This," he said, "makes you look older than you are.... How funny! And
+why that old-fashioned dress?... That quaint way of doing your hair....
+It's you ... and yet it's not you.... Who is it?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>"Mamma," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised, knowing Joranc&eacute;'s persistent rancour, that he should
+have given his daughter the portrait of a mother whom she had been
+taught to believe long dead. And he remembered the riotous adventures of
+the divorced wife, now the beautiful Mme. de Glaris, who was celebrated
+in the chronicles of fast society for her dresses and her jewellery and
+whose photographs were displayed in the shop-windows of the Rue de
+Rivoli for the admiration of the passers-by.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, awkwardly and not quite knowing what he was saying,
+"yes, you are like her.... And is this also ...?"</p>
+
+<p>He suppressed a movement of astonishment. This time, he clearly
+recognized Suzanne's mother, or rather the Mme. de Glaris of the Rue de
+Rivoli, bare-shouldered, decked in her pearls and diamonds, shameless and magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne, who kept her eyes raised to his face, did not speak; and they
+remained opposite each other, motionless and silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she know the truth?" Philippe asked himself. "No ... no ... it's
+not possible.... She must have bought this photograph, because of the
+likeness to herself which she saw in it, and she does not suspect anything...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>But he was not satisfied with his surmise and he dared not question the
+girl, for fear of touching upon one of those mysterious griefs which
+become more acute when once they are no longer secret.</p>
+
+<p>She put the two portraits back in the album and locked the clasp with a
+little key. Then, after a long pause, laying her hand on Philippe's arm,
+she said to him, in words that corresponded strangely with the thoughts that troubled him:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be angry with me, dear, and, above all, do not judge me too
+severely. There is a Suzanne in me whom I do not know well ... and who
+often frightens me.... She is capricious, jealous, wrong-headed, capable
+of anything ... yes, of anything.... The real Suzanne is good and
+sensible: 'You're <i>my</i> daughter to-day,' papa used to say to me, when I
+was a little girl. And he said it in such a happy tone! But, the next
+day, I was his daughter no longer; and, struggle and fight as hard as I
+might, I could not become so again.... Things prevented me; and I used
+to cry because papa seemed to hate me.... And I wanted to be good....
+And I still want to and I always do.... But there is nothing in the
+world so hard ... because the other ... the other one does not want
+to.... And besides ..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>She waited a moment, as though hesitating, and continued:</p>
+
+<p>"And, besides, what she wants, what the other Suzanne wants does not
+appear to me so very unreasonable. It is an immense longing to love
+somebody, but to love madly, boundlessly, to love too well.... Then it
+seems to me that life has no other object ... and all the rest bores
+me.... You know, Philippe, even when I was ever so small, that word love
+used to upset me. And, later ... and now, at certain times, I feel my
+brain going and all my soul seeking, waiting...."</p>
+
+<p>She hid her face again, as though seized with a sudden feeling of
+bashfulness, and Philippe saw, between her fingers, her crimson forehead and cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>His pity swelled within him. Through those desultory confidences, he saw
+Suzanne as she was, ignorant, ill-informed about herself and about the
+realities of life, troubled with desires which she took for unsatisfied
+feelings, torn by the implacable duel between contrary instincts and
+possessing nothing to counteract her woman's nature but a wayward and melancholy virtue.</p>
+
+<p>How good it would be to save her! He went up to her and, very gently, said:</p>
+
+<p>"You must get married, Suzanne."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>She shook her head:</p>
+
+<p>"There have been young men here who seemed to like me, but they always
+went away after a few days. One would almost think that they were afraid
+of me ... or that they had heard things ... against me.... Besides ... I
+didn't care for them.... It was not they ... that I was waiting for....
+It was somebody else.... And he did not come."</p>
+
+<p>He understood the irreparable words which she was about to utter and he
+ardently hoped that she would not utter them.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne guessed his wish and was silent. But the avowal was so clear,
+even when unexpressed, that Philippe read all its passion in the long
+silence that followed. And Suzanne experienced a great joy, as though
+the indissoluble bond of words were linking them together. She added:</p>
+
+<p>"It was a little your fault, Philippe, and you felt it, in a way, at
+dinner. Yes, a little your fault.... In Paris, I lived a dangerous life
+beside you.... Just think, we were always together, always by ourselves,
+we two; and, for days at a time, I had the right to think that there was
+no one in the world but you and I. It was for me that you talked, it was
+to make me worthy of yourself that you explained things to me which I
+did not know, that you took me to see the beautiful sights in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> the
+churches, in the old towns.... And I, I was amazed. At what I was
+learning? Oh, no, Philippe, but at the new world that suddenly opened up
+to me. I did not listen to your words, but I listened to the sound of
+your voice. My eyes saw only your eyes. It was your admiration that I
+admired; your love for the beautiful was what I loved. All that you
+taught me to know ... and to love, Philippe, was ... yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding his inward rebellion, the words entered into Philippe's
+being like a caress; and he too almost forgot himself in the pleasure of
+listening to the sound of a soft voice and looking into eyes that are dear to one.</p>
+
+<p>He said, simply:</p>
+
+<p>"And Marthe?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer; and he felt that, like many women, she was
+indifferent to considerations of that sort. To them, love is a reason
+that excuses everything.</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeking to create a diversion, he repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"You must get married, Suzanne, you must. That is where your safety lies."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know!" she said, wringing her hands in despair. "I know ... only ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Only what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the strength to."</p>
+
+<p>"You must find the strength."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"I can't.... I ought to have it given me. I ought to have ... oh,
+nothing very much, perhaps ... a little gladness ... a glad memory ...
+the thought that my life will not have been entirely wasted.... The
+thought that I too shall have had my spell of love.... But that short
+spell I ask for ... I beg for it, I pray for it."</p>
+
+<p>He blurted out:</p>
+
+<p>"You will find it in marriage, Suzanne."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she said, more bitterly, "only the man I love can give it to
+me.... I want, once at least, to feel a pair of arms around me, nothing
+but that, I assure you ... to lay my head on your shoulder and to remain
+like that, for an instant."</p>
+
+<p>She was so near to Philippe that the muslin of her bodice touched his
+clothes and he breathed the scent of her hair. He felt a mad temptation
+to take her in his arms. And it would have been a very small thing, as
+she had said: one of those moments of happiness which one plucks like a
+flower and remembers.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him, not sadly now, nor resigned, but smiling, archly,
+with all the ingenious charm of the woman who is trying to conquer.</p>
+
+<p>He turned pale and murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne, I am your friend. Be my friend, simply, and let your imagination ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You're afraid," she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>He tried to jest:</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid! Goodness gracious me, of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid of the one little affectionate action which I ask of you, the
+action of a brother kissing his sister. That's what you shrink from, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>"I shrink from it because it is wrong and wicked," he declared, firmly.
+"That is the only reason."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Philippe, there is another reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Which is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You love me."</p>
+
+<p>"I! I love you?... I!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you, Philippe, you love me. And I defy you to look me in the face,
+to look me straight in the eyes and deny it."</p>
+
+<p>And, without giving him time to recover, she continued, bending over him eagerly:</p>
+
+<p>"You were in love with me, before I fell in love with you. It was your
+love that created mine. Don't protest, you have no right to do so now,
+for you know.... And I, I knew it from the first day. Oh, believe me, a
+woman is never mistaken.... Your eyes, when they looked at me, had a new
+look in them ... there, the look of just now. You have never looked like
+that at any woman, Philippe; not even at Marthe, ... no ... not even at
+her.... You never loved her, her nor the others. I was the first. Love
+was a thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> unknown to you and you do not understand it yet ... and you
+sit there in front of me, nonplussed and dumbfoundered, because the
+truth appears to you and because you love me, Philippe, because you love
+me, my dear Philippe...."</p>
+
+<p>She clung to him, in an upheaval of hope and certainty, and he seemed not to resist.</p>
+
+<p>"You were afraid, Philippe. That is why you made up your mind not to see
+me again.... That is why you spoke so harshly to me just now.... You
+were afraid, because you love me.... Do you understand now?... Oh,
+Philippe, I should not have acted with you as I have done, if you did
+not love me.... I should never have had the presumption!... But I
+knew.... I knew ... and you don't deny it, do you?... Oh, how I
+suffered! My jealousy of Marthe!... To-day again, when she kissed
+you.... And the thought of going away without as much as saying good-bye
+to you!... And the thought of that marriage!... What a torture!... But
+it's over now, is it not? I shall suffer no more ... because you love me."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke these last words with a sort of timorous hesitation and
+without taking her eyes from Philippe's face, as though expecting him to
+give an answer that would calm the sudden anguish with which she was torn.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>He was silent. His eyes were dull, his forehead creased with wrinkles.
+He seemed to be reflecting and did not appear to reck that Suzanne was
+there so close to him, her arms clinging to his arms.</p>
+
+<p>She whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe.... Philippe...."</p>
+
+<p>Had he heard? He remained impassive. Then, little by little, Suzanne
+released her embrace. Her hands fell to her sides. She gazed with
+infinite distress upon the man she loved and, suddenly, sank into a heap, weeping:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am mad!... I am mad! Why did I speak?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a horrible ordeal for her, after the hope that had excited her,
+and this time it was real tears that flowed down her cheeks. The sound
+of the sobs roused Philippe from his dream. He listened to it sadly and
+then began to pace the room. Moved though he was, what was passing
+within him troubled him even more. He loved Suzanne!</p>
+
+<p>It did not for a second occur to him to deny the truth. From the first
+sentences that Suzanne had spoken and without his having to seek for
+further proofs, he had admitted his love even as one admits the presence
+of a thing that one sees and touches. And that was why Suzanne, at the
+mere sight of Philippe's attitude, had suddenly realized the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>imprudence
+which she had committed in speaking: Philippe, once warned, was escaping
+her. He was one of those men who become conscious of their duty at the
+very moment when they perceive their fault.</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe!" she said, once more. "Philippe!"</p>
+
+<p>As he did not reply, she took his hand again and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"You love me, though ... you love me.... Well, then, if you love me ..."</p>
+
+<p>The tears did not disfigure her exquisite face. On the contrary, grief
+decked her with a new, graver and more touching beauty. And she ended, ingenuously enough:</p>
+
+<p>"Then, if you love me, why do you repel me? Surely, when one loves, one
+does not repel the thing one loves.... And you love me...."</p>
+
+<p>The pretty mouth was all entreaty. Philippe observed its voluptuous
+action. It was as though the two lips delighted in uttering words of
+love and as though they could pronounce no others.</p>
+
+<p>He turned away his eyes to escape the fascination and, controlling
+himself, mastering his voice so that she might not perceive its tremor, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"It is just because I love you, Suzanne, that I am repulsing you ...
+because I love you too well...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>The phrase implied a breach which she felt to be irreparable. She did
+not attempt to protest. It was finished. And she knew this so thoroughly
+that, a moment later, when Philippe opened the door and prepared to go
+away, she did not even raise her head.</p>
+
+<p>He did not go, however, for fear of offending her. He sat down. There
+was only a little table between them. But how far he was from her! And
+how it must surprise her that all her feminine wiles, her coquetry, the
+allurement of her lips were powerless to subjugate the will of that man who loved her!</p>
+
+<p>The belfry-clock struck ten. When Morestal and Joranc&eacute; arrived, Suzanne
+and Philippe had not exchanged a single word.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>"Ready to start, Philippe?" cried Morestal. "Have you said good-bye to Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>She replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we have said good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then it's my turn," he said, kissing her. "Joranc&eacute;, it's settled
+that you're coming with us."</p>
+
+<p>"As far as the Butte-aux-Loups."</p>
+
+<p>"If you go as far as the Butte," said Suzanne to her father, "you may
+just as well go on to the Old Mill and come back by the high-road."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>"That's true. But are you staying behind, Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>She decided to see them out of Saint-&Eacute;lophe. She quickly wrapped a silk
+scarf round her head:</p>
+
+<p>"Here I am," she said.</p>
+
+<p>The four of them walked off, along the sleeping streets of the little
+town, and Morestal at once began to comment on his interview with
+Captain Daspry. A very intelligent man, the captain, who had not failed
+to see the importance of the Old Mill as a block-house, to use his
+expression. But, from another point of view, he had given something of a
+shock to Morestal's opinions on the attitude which a French officer
+should maintain towards his inferiors.</p>
+
+<p>"Just imagine, Philippe: he refuses to punish the soldiers I told him
+about ... you know, the pillagers whom Saboureux complained of.... Well,
+he refuses to punish them ... even the leader of the band, one
+Duvauchel, a lover of every country but his own, who glories in his
+ideas, they say. Can you understand it? The rascal escapes with a fine
+of ten francs, an apology, a promise not to do it again and a lecture
+from his captain! And Mossieu Daspry pretends that, with kindness and
+patience, he succeeds in turning Duvauchel and fellows of his kidney
+into his best soldiers! What humbug! As though there were any way of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+taming those beggars, short of discipline! A pack of good-for-nothing
+scoundrels, who would fly across the frontier the moment the first shot was fired!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe had instinctively slackened his pace. Suzanne was walking
+beside him; and, every now and then, by the light of an electric lamp,
+he saw the golden halo of her hair and the delicate profile draped in the silk scarf.</p>
+
+<p>He felt full of gentleness for her, now that he no longer feared her,
+and he was tempted to speak kind words to her, as to a little sister of
+whom one is very fond. But the silence was sweeter still and he did not
+wish to break its charm.</p>
+
+<p>They passed the last houses. The street ran into a white country-road,
+lined with tall poplars. And they heard scraps of Morestal's conversation:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! Captain Daspry! Leniency, friendly relations between superiors
+and inferiors, the barracks looked upon as a school of brotherhood, with
+the officers for instructors! That's all very well; but do you know what
+a system of that sort leads to? An army of deserters and renegades...."</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne said, in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"May I have your arm, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>He at once slipped his arm through hers, happy at the thought of
+pleasing her. And he felt, besides, a great relief at seeing that she
+leant against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> him with the confidence of a friend. They were going to
+part and nothing would tarnish the pure memory of that day. It was a
+comforting impression, which nevertheless caused him a certain sadness.
+Duty fulfilled always leaves a taste of bitterness behind. The
+intoxication of sacrifice no longer stimulates you; and you begin to
+understand what you have refused.</p>
+
+<p>In the warm night, amid all the perfumes that stirred in the breeze,
+Suzanne's own scent was wafted up to him. He inhaled it long and
+greedily and reflected that no scent had ever excited him before:</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," he said, within himself. "Good-bye, little girl; good-bye to
+what was my love."</p>
+
+<p>And, during those last minutes, as though he were granting a crowning
+grace to his impossible longings and his forbidden dreams, he yielded to
+the delights of that love which had blossomed so mysteriously in the
+unknown regions of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," Suzanne now said. "Good-bye, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, or else my father would come back with me; and I want nobody ... nobody...."</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; and old Morestal had stopped near a bench, at a place where two
+paths met, the wider of which, the one on the left, climbed up towards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+the frontier. The spot was known as the Carrefour du Grand Ch&ecirc;ne, or
+Great Oak Crossways.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal kissed the girl again:</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, for the present, Suzanne. And don't forget that I'm coming to your wedding."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed the spring of his repeater:</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Philippe, it's a quarter past ten.... True, there's no hurry....
+Your mother and Marthe must be asleep by now. No matter, let's get on...."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, father, if you don't mind, I would rather take the direct
+road.... The path by the Butte-aux-Loups is longer; and I am feeling rather tired."</p>
+
+<p>In reality, like Suzanne, Philippe wanted to go home alone, so that
+nothing might disturb the melancholy charm of his dream. Old Morestal's
+long speeches terrified him.</p>
+
+<p>"As you please, my boy," cried the old man. "But mind you don't put up
+the bolt or the chain on the hall-door."</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; impressed the same injunctions on Suzanne and the two walked away.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Philippe," said the girl, once again.</p>
+
+<p>He had already entered the path on the right.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Suzanne," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your hand, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>For his hand to reach Suzanne's, he had to turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> two or three steps
+back. He hesitated. But she had come towards him and, very gently, drew
+him to the foot of the path:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe, we must not part like this.... It is too sad! Let us go back
+together to Saint-&Eacute;lophe ... as far as the house.... Please do...."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, curtly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she moaned. "I asked so that I might be with you a little
+longer.... It is so sad! But you are right. Let us part."</p>
+
+<p>He said, in a kinder tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne.... Suzanne...."</p>
+
+<p>Bending her head a little, she put out her forehead to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped, intending to kiss the curls of her hair. But she gave a
+swift movement and flung her arms round his neck.</p>
+
+<p>He felt that he was lost and made a despairing effort. Suzanne's lips
+were close to his, offering themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Suzanne ... Suzanne, my darling ..." he whispered, abandoning all
+resistance and pressing the girl to his breast....</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TRAP</h3>
+
+<p>The road which Morestal and his friend followed first makes a bend and
+climbs the wooded side of a ravine. It was formerly used for foresting
+purposes and is still paved with large stones which are covered with mud
+after a rainy day and make the ascent slippery and difficult.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal was panting for breath when he reached the top:</p>
+
+<p>"We ought ..." he said, "to see ... Philippe from here."</p>
+
+<p>Faint clouds dimmed the light of the moon, but still, at certain places
+denuded of trees, they were able to distinguish the other side of the ravine.</p>
+
+<p>He called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!... Philippe!"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what," said Joranc&eacute;. "I expect Philippe did not like to let
+Suzanne go home alone and he is taking her back, at any rate as far as the houses."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say," said Morestal. "Poor Suzanne,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> she doesn't look very
+bright. So you've made up your mind to get her married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... I'm getting her married ... it's all settled."</p>
+
+<p>They started walking again, and, by an imperceptible slope, came to two
+large trees, after which the road turned to the right. From that point
+onwards, running through pine-woods along the line of the ridges, it
+marked the frontier as far as the Col du Diable.</p>
+
+<p>On their left was the German slope, which was steeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," repeated Joranc&eacute;, "it's all settled. Of course, Suzanne might
+have met a younger man ... a better-looking man ... but no one more
+respectable or more serious.... To say nothing of his having a very firm
+character; and, with Suzanne, a certain amount of firmness is necessary. Besides ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" said Morestal, perceiving his hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, Morestal, Suzanne has got to be married. She inherits
+from me an upright nature and strict principles ... but she is not only
+my daughter ... and sometimes I am afraid of finding ... bad instincts in her."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you discovered anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! And I am sure that there is nothing to discover. But it's the
+future I'm afraid of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> One day or another, she may know temptation ...
+some one may make love to her ... turn her head with fair words. When
+that time comes, will she know how to resist? Oh, Morestal, the thought
+of it drives me mad! I couldn't bear it.... Just think, the daughter,
+following after the mother.... Oh, I believe ... I believe I should kill her!..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal jested:</p>
+
+<p>"What a fuss about nothing! A good little girl like Suzanne!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are right, it's absurd. But I can't help it, I can't
+forget.... And I don't want to, either. My duty is to think of
+everything and to give her a guide, a master who will advise her.... I
+know Suzanne: she will make a perfect wife...."</p>
+
+<p>"And she will have lots of children; and they will be very happy,"
+Morestal wound up. "Come, you're boring me and boring yourself with your
+fancies.... Let's talk of something else. By the way ..."</p>
+
+<p>He waited for Joranc&eacute; to come up with him. The two walked on abreast.
+And Morestal, who was interested in no subject outside his personal prejudice, resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, can you tell me&mdash;if it's not a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>professional secret, of
+course&mdash;can you tell me who that man Dourlowski is exactly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Six months ago," replied Joranc&eacute;, "I should not have been able to
+answer your question. But now ..."</p>
+
+<p>"But now?..."</p>
+
+<p>"He is no longer in our service."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he has gone over to the other side?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect so, but I haven't the least proof of it. In any case, there's
+not much to be said in the fellow's favour. Why do you ask? Have you
+anything to do with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Morestal, remaining thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>They went on in silence. The wind, which blew more strongly on the
+ridge, played among the trees. The pine-needles crackled under the soles
+of their boots. The moon had disappeared, but the sky was white with light.</p>
+
+<p>"The Pierre-Branlante.... The Chemin&eacute;e-des-F&eacute;es," said Morestal,
+pointing to the vaguely-seen shapes of two huge boulders known by those
+names of the Rocking Stone and the Fairies' Chimney.</p>
+
+<p>They walked for another moment:</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What is it?" said Joranc&eacute;, feeling his companion catch him by the arm.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"Did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you hear a sort of a hoot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the hoot of an owl."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure? It doesn't sound natural to me."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say it is, then? A signal?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm certain of it."</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; reflected:</p>
+
+<p>"After all, it's quite possible ... some smuggler perhaps.... But it's a
+bad moment to have chosen."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now that the German post has been cut down, it's likely that all
+this part of the frontier is being more closely watched than usual."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course," said Morestal. "Still, that owl's hoot ..."</p>
+
+<p>There was a short slope and then they emerged upon a higher upland,
+surrounded by enormous fir-trees, which formed a sort of rampart. This
+was the Butte-aux-Loups. The road cut it in two; and the posts of each
+country stood facing each other.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; noticed that the German post had been put up again, but in a
+makeshift fashion, with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> aid of a number of large stones which kept
+it in position.</p>
+
+<p>"A gust of wind and down it comes again," he said, shaking it.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mind what you're about!" said Morestal, with a chuckle. "Don't
+you see yourself toppling it over and having the police down upon
+you?... You'd better make a strategic movement to the rear, my friend!..."</p>
+
+<p>But he had not finished speaking when another cry reached his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, this time," said Morestal, "you'll admit...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... yes ..." Joranc&eacute; agreed. "An owl gives a duller, slower
+hoot.... It really is like a signal, a hundred yards or so ahead of
+us.... Smugglers, of course, French or German."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we turned back?" said Morestal. "Aren't you afraid of being
+mixed up in an affair?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? It's the custom-house people's business; it doesn't concern you
+and me. They can settle it among themselves...."</p>
+
+<p>They listened for a moment and then went on, thoughtfully, with watchful ears.</p>
+
+<p>After the Butte-aux-Loups, the ridge becomes flatter, the forest spreads
+out and the road, now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> freer, winds among the trees, runs from one slope
+to the other, avoids the big roots, passes round the inequalities of the
+ground and, at times, disappears from sight under a bed of dead leaves.</p>
+
+<p>But the moon had come out again and Morestal walked straight in front of
+him, without hesitation. He knew the frontier so well! He could have
+followed it with his eyes closed, in the dusk of the darkest night! At
+one place, there was a branch that blocked the way; at another, there
+was the trunk of an old oak which sounded hollow when he hit it with his
+stick. And he announced the branch before he came to it; and he struck at the old oak.</p>
+
+<p>His uneasiness, which began to seem unreasonable, was dispelled.
+Consulting his watch again, he hurried his steps, so as to reach home by
+the time which he had said.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly he stopped. He thought he saw a shadow hiding, thirty or
+forty yards away from him:</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see?" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... I saw...."</p>
+
+<p>And, all at once, there came a shrill, strident whistle, apparently from
+the very place where the shadow had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't move," said Joranc&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>They waited, their hearts tense with the anguish of what was coming.</p>
+
+<p>A minute passed and more minutes; and then there was a sound of
+footsteps, below them, on the German side, the sound of a man hurrying....</p>
+
+<p>Morestal thought of the precipitous hill which he had described to
+Dourlowski as the way up to the frontier from the Albern Woods, by the
+Cold Spring, the Fontaine-Froide. In all certainty, somebody was scaling
+the upper portion of that precipice, clinging on to the branches and
+dragging himself along the pebbles.</p>
+
+<p>"A deserter!" whispered Joranc&eacute;. "No nonsense now!"</p>
+
+<p>But Morestal pushed him away and began to run to where the two roads
+crossed. At the very moment when he reached the spot, a man appeared,
+all frenzied and out of breath, and stammered, in French:</p>
+
+<p>"Save me!... I've been given away!... I'm frightened!..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal seized hold of him and flung him off the road:</p>
+
+<p>"Run!... Look sharp!... Straight ahead of you!"</p>
+
+<p>There was the report of a rifle. The man staggered, with a moan; but he
+was evidently only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> wounded, for, after a few seconds, he drew himself
+up and made off through the woods.</p>
+
+<p>A chase ensued forthwith. Four or five Germans crossed the frontier and
+set off in pursuit of the fugitive, swearing as they went, while their
+comrades, forming the greater number, turned towards Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; took him round the waist and compelled him to recoil:</p>
+
+<p>"This way," he said, "over there.... They won't dare ..."</p>
+
+<p>They returned in the direction of the Butte-aux-Loups, but were at once caught up:</p>
+
+<p>"Halt!" commanded a rough voice. "I arrest you.... You are
+accomplices.... I arrest you."</p>
+
+<p>"We are in France," retorted Joranc&eacute;, facing his aggressors.</p>
+
+<p>A hand fell on his shoulder:</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about that.... We'll see about that.... You're coming with us."</p>
+
+<p>The men surrounded them; but, vigorous both and exasperated, they
+succeeded in fighting their way through with their fists:</p>
+
+<p>"To the Butte-aux-Loups," said Joranc&eacute;, "and keep to the left of the road."</p>
+
+<p>"We're not on the left," said Morestal, who saw,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> after a moment, that
+they had branched off to the right.</p>
+
+<p>They re-entered French territory; but the police who were pursuing the
+deserter, having lost his tracks, now fell back in their direction.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon they made a bend to the right, hesitated for a moment, careful
+not to cross the road, and then set off again; and, still tracked by the
+men, whom they felt close upon their heels, they reached the acclivity
+of the Butte-aux-Loups. At that moment, surrounded on all hands and
+utterly blown, they had to stop to take breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Arrest them!" said the leader of the men, in whom they recognized the
+German commissary, Weisslicht. "Arrest them! We are in Germany."</p>
+
+<p>"You lie!" roared Morestal, fighting with wild energy. "You have not the
+right.... It's a dirty trap!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a violent struggle, but did not last long. He received a blow on
+the chin with the butt of a rifle, reeled, but continued to defend
+himself, hitting and biting his adversaries. At last, they succeeded in
+throwing him and, to stifle his shouting, they gagged him.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute;, who had taken a leap to the rear and was standing with his back
+to a tree, resisted, protesting:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"I am M. Joranc&eacute;, special commissary at Saint-&Eacute;lophe. I am on my own
+ground here. We are in France. There's the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>The men flung themselves upon him and dragged him away, while he shouted
+at the top of his voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Help! They're arresting the French commissary on French soil!"</p>
+
+<p>A report was heard, followed by another. Morestal, with a superhuman
+effort, had knocked down the policeman who held him and once more took
+to flight, with a cord cutting into one of his wrists and with a gag in
+his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>But, two hundred yards further, as he was turning towards the Col du
+Diable, his foot knocked against the root of a tree and he fell.</p>
+
+<p>He was at once overtaken and firmly bound.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>A few moments later, the two prisoners were carried by the police to the
+road leading through the Albern Woods and hoisted on the backs of a
+couple of horses. They were taken to the Col du Diable and, from there,
+past the Wildermann factory and the hamlet of Torins, sent on to the
+German town of B&ouml;rsweilen.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II</h2>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IA" id="CHAPTER_IA"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TWO WOMEN</h3>
+
+<p>Suzanne Joranc&eacute; pushed the swing-gate and entered the grounds of the Old Mill.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed in white and her face looked fresh and cool under a
+large hat of Leghorn straw, with its black-velvet strings hanging loose
+upon her shoulders. Her short skirt showed her dainty ankles. She walked
+with a brisk step, using a tall, iron-shod stick, while her disengaged
+hand crumpled some flowers which she had gathered on the way and which
+she dropped heedlessly as she went.</p>
+
+<p>The Morestals' peaceful house was waking in the morning sun. Several of
+the windows were open; and Suzanne saw Marthe writing at the table in her bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>She called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Can I come up?"</p>
+
+<p>But Mme. Morestal appeared at one of the windows of the drawing-room and
+made an imperious sign to her:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>"Hush! Don't speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Suzanne, when she joined the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"They're asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the father and son."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Suzanne. "Philippe too?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they must have come in late and they are resting. Neither of them
+has rung his bell yet. But tell me, Suzanne, aren't you going away?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow ... or the next day.... I confess, I'm in no hurry to go."</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal took her to her daughter-in-law's room and asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe's still asleep, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Marthe. "I haven't heard him move...."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I Morestal.... And yet he's an early riser, as a rule.... And
+Philippe, who wanted to go tramping at daybreak!... However, so much the
+better, sleep suits both of my men.... By the way, Marthe, didn't the
+shooting wake you in the night?"</p>
+
+<p>"The shooting!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course, your room is on the other side. The sound came from the
+frontier.... Some poacher, I suppose...."</p>
+
+<p>"Were M. Morestal and Philippe in?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>"Surely! It must have been one or two o'clock ... perhaps later ... I
+don't quite know."</p>
+
+<p>She put the tea-pot and the jar of honey, which Marthe had had for
+breakfast, on the tray; and, with her mania for tidying, obeying some
+mysterious principle of symmetry, settled her daughter-in-law's things
+and any piece of furniture in the room that had been moved from its
+place. This done, with her hands hanging before her, she looked round
+for an excuse to discontinue this irksome activity. Then, discovering
+none, she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"How early you are," said Marthe to Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted air ... and movement.... Besides, I told Philippe that I would
+come and fetch him. I want to go and see the ruins of the
+Petite-Chartreuse with him ... It's a bore that he's not up yet."</p>
+
+<p>She seemed disappointed at this accident which deprived her of a pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind if I finish my letters?" asked Marthe, taking up her pen.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne strolled round the room, looking out of the window, leant to see
+if Philippe's was open, then sat down opposite Marthe and examined her
+long and carefully. She noted the eye-lids, which were a little rumpled;
+the uneven colouring; the tiny wrinkles on the temples; a few white
+hairs mingling with the dark tresses; all that proclaims<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> time's little
+victories over waning youth. And, raising her eyes, she saw herself in a glass.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe surprised her glance and cried, with an admiration free from all envy:</p>
+
+<p>"You are splendid, Suzanne! You look like a triumphant goddess. What
+triumph have you achieved?"</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne flushed and, in her confusion, said, at random:</p>
+
+<p>"But you, Marthe, you look worried...."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes ... perhaps I am."</p>
+
+<p>And Marthe told how, on the previous evening, finding herself alone with
+her mother-in-law, she had spoken to her of Philippe's new ideas, the
+spirit of his work, his plan of resigning his position and his firm
+intention to have an explanation with M. Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Marthe, "my mother-in-law flew out. She absolutely objects
+to any explanation whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal is suffering from heart-trouble. Dr. Borel, who has
+attended him for the last twenty years, says that he must be spared any
+annoyance, any excessive excitement. And an interview with Philippe
+might have fatal results.... What can one reply to that?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>"You will have to tell Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. And he, he must either keep silent and continue to lead an
+intolerable existence, or else, at the cost of the most terrible
+anguish, face M. Morestal's anger."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a moment and then, striking the table with her clenched fists:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she exclaimed, "if I could only take all those worries upon myself
+and save Philippe's peace of mind!"</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne felt all the force of her vehemence and energy. No pain would
+have frightened Marthe, no sacrifice would have been beyond her strength.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you love Philippe very much?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe smiled:</p>
+
+<p>"With all my heart.... He deserves it."</p>
+
+<p>The younger woman felt a certain bitterness and could not help saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Does he love you as much as you love him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, I think so.... I deserve it too."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you trust him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fully! Philippe is the most loyal creature I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Still ..."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, say what you were going to.... Oh, you need not be afraid of
+asking me questions!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>"Well, I was thinking ... suppose Philippe loved another woman...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe burst out laughing:</p>
+
+<p>"If you knew how little importance Philippe attaches to all that
+business of love!"</p>
+
+<p>"However, supposing ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, supposing," she said, pretending to be serious. "Philippe
+loves another woman. He is madly in love with her. What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, what would you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word ... I've never thought about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you go for a divorce?"</p>
+
+<p>"And my children?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, if he wanted to be divorced?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then it would be, 'Good-bye, M. Philippe!'"</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne reflected, without taking her eyes from Marthe, as though she
+were spying for a sign of uneasiness on her features or seeking to
+fathom the depths of her most secret thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>She murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"And, if he deceived you?"</p>
+
+<p>This time, the thrust went home. Marthe shivered, stung to the quick.
+Her face altered. And she said, in a voice which she made an effort to contain:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that, no! If Philippe fell in love with another woman, if he wanted
+to begin his life again,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> without me, and if he confessed it frankly, I
+should consent to everything ... yes, to everything, even to a divorce,
+however great my despair.... But treachery, lying ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You would not forgive him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never! Philippe is not a man whom one can forgive. He is a conscious
+man, who knows what he is doing, incapable of a weakness; and no
+forgiveness would absolve him. Besides, I myself could not ... no ... I
+could not indeed." And she added, "I have too much pride."</p>
+
+<p>The phrase was gravely and simply uttered and revealed a haughtiness of
+soul which Suzanne had not suspected. She felt a sort of confusion in
+the presence of the rival whom she was attacking and who held her at bay
+with such disdain.</p>
+
+<p>A long silence divided the two women; and Marthe said:</p>
+
+<p>"You're in one of your wicked moods to-day, Suzanne, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am too happy to be wicked," chuckled the girl. "Only it's such a
+strange happiness! I am afraid it won't last."</p>
+
+<p>"Your marriage ..."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't get married!" declared Suzanne, excitedly. "I won't get married
+at any price! I hate that man.... He's not the only man in the world, is
+he? There are others ... others who will love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> me.... I too am worthy of
+being loved ... worthy of being lived for!..."</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in her voice; and so great a despondency overwhelmed
+her features that Marthe felt a longing to console her, as was her habit
+in such cases. Nevertheless, she said nothing. Suzanne had wounded her,
+not so much by her questions as by her attitude, by a certain sarcasm in
+her accent and by an air of defiance that mingled with the expression of
+her grief.</p>
+
+<p>She preferred to cut short a painful scene the meaning of which escaped
+her, although the scene itself did not astonish her on Suzanne's part:</p>
+
+<p>"I am going downstairs," she said. "It's time for the post; and I am
+expecting letters."</p>
+
+<p>"So you're leaving me!" said Suzanne, in a broken voice.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe could not help laughing:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes, I am leaving you in this room ... unless you refuse to stay...."</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne ran after her and, holding her back:</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't! I only ask for a movement, a kind word.... I am passing
+through a terrible time, I need help and you ... you repel me.... It's
+you who are repelling me, don't forget that.... It's you...."</p>
+
+<p>"That's understood," said Marthe. "I am a cruel friend.... Only, you
+see, my dear little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> Suzanne, if the thought of your marriage upsets you
+to that extent, it might be a good plan to tell your father.... Come,
+come along downstairs and calm yourself."</p>
+
+<p>They found Mme. Morestal below, feather-broom in hand, an apron tied
+round her waist, waging her daily battle against a dust that existed
+only in her imagination.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know, mamma, that Philippe is not yet up?"</p>
+
+<p>"The lazy fellow! It's nearly nine o'clock. I hope he's not ill!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" said Marthe. "But, all the same, when I go up again, I'll look in and see."</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal went as far as the hall with the two young women. Suzanne
+was already walking away, without a word, with the face which she wore
+on her black days, as Marthe said, when Mme. Morestal called her back:</p>
+
+<p>"You're forgetting your stick, child."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady had taken the long, iron-shod walking-stick from the
+umbrella-stand. But, suddenly, she began to rummage among the canes and
+sunshades, muttering:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's funny...."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't find Morestal's stick. And yet it's always here."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>"He must have put it down somewhere else."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible! If so, it would be the first time in his life. I know him
+so well!... What can it mean?... Victor!"</p>
+
+<p>The man ran into the hall:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Victor, why isn't your master's cane here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a notion, ma'am, that the master has gone out."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone out! But you ought to have told me.... I was beginning to be anxious."</p>
+
+<p>"I said so just now to Catherine."</p>
+
+<p>"But what makes you think ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, the master did not put his boots outside his door
+as usual.... M. Philippe neither...."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" said Marthe. "Has M. Philippe gone out too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very early this morning, ma'am ... before my time for getting up."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of herself, Suzanne Joranc&eacute; protested:</p>
+
+<p>"But no, it's not conceivable...."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, when I came down," said Victor, "the front-door was not locked."</p>
+
+<p>"And your master never forgets to turn the key, does he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. As the door was not locked, it means<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> either that the master has
+gone out ... or else...."</p>
+
+<p>"Or else what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he hasn't come in.... Only, I say that as I might say anything
+that came into my head...."</p>
+
+<p>"Not come in!" exclaimed Mme. Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>She reflected for a second, then turned on her heels, ran up the stairs
+with surprising agility, crossed a passage and entered her husband's bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>She uttered a cry and called:</p>
+
+<p>"Marthe!... Marthe!..."</p>
+
+<p>But the young woman, who had followed her, was already on her way to the
+second floor, with Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe's room was at the back. She opened the door quickly and stood
+on the threshold, speechless.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe was not there; and the bed had not even been undone.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIA" id="CHAPTER_IIA"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE</h3>
+
+<p>The three women met in the drawing-room. Mme. Morestal walked up and
+down in dismay, hardly knowing what she was saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Not in!... Philippe neither!... Victor, you must run ... but where
+to?... Where is he to look?... Oh, it's really too terrible!..."</p>
+
+<p>She suddenly stepped in front of Marthe and stammered:</p>
+
+<p>"The ... the shots ... last night...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, pale with anxiety, did not reply. She had had the same awful
+thought from the first moment.</p>
+
+<p>But Suzanne exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"In any case, Marthe, you need not be alarmed. Philippe did not take the
+road by the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"We separated at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch&ecirc;ne. M. Morestal and papa went
+on by themselves. Philippe came straight back."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he can't have come straight back, or he would be here now," said
+Marthe. "What can he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> have been doing all night? He has not even set
+foot in his room!"</p>
+
+<p>But Mme. Morestal was terrified by what Suzanne had said. She could now
+no longer doubt that her husband had taken the frontier-road; and the
+shots had come from the frontier!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's true," said Suzanne, "but it was only ten o'clock when we
+started from Saint-&Eacute;lophe and the shots which you heard were fired at
+one or two o'clock in the morning.... You said so yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I tell?" cried the old lady, who was beginning to lose her head
+entirely. "It may have been much earlier."</p>
+
+<p>"But your father must know," said Marthe to Suzanne. "Did he tell you nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen my father this morning," said Suzanne. "He was not awake...."</p>
+
+<p>She had not time to finish her sentence before an idea burst in upon
+her, an idea so natural that the two other women were struck by it also
+and none of them dared put it into words.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne flew to the door, but Marthe held her back. Why not telephone to
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, to the special commissary's house?</p>
+
+<p>A minute later, M. Joranc&eacute;'s servant replied that she had just noticed
+that her master was not in. His bed had not been touched either.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>"Oh!" said Suzanne, trembling all over. "My poor father!... Can
+anything have happened to him?... My poor father! I ought to have...."</p>
+
+<p>They stood for a moment as though paralyzed, all three, and incapable of
+taking a resolution. The man-servant went out saying that he would
+saddle the horse and gallop to the Col du Diable.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, who was nearest to the telephone, rang up the mayor's office at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, on the off-chance, and asked for news. They knew nothing
+there. But two gendarmes, it seemed, had just crossed the square at a
+great pace. Thereupon, at the suggestion of Mme. Morestal, who had taken
+up the second receiver, she asked to be put on to the gendarmery. As
+soon as she was connected, she explained her reason for telephoning and
+was informed that the sergeant was on his way to the frontier with a
+peasant who declared that he had found the body of a man in the woods
+between the Butte-aux-Loups and the Col du Diable. That was all they
+were able to tell her....</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal let go the receiver and fell in a dead faint. Marthe and
+Suzanne tried to attend to her. But their hands trembled and, when
+Catherine, the maid-servant, appeared upon the scene, they both ran out
+of the room, roused by a sudden energy and an immense need of doing
+something, of walking, of laying eyes upon that dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> body whose
+blood-stained image obsessed their minds.</p>
+
+<p>They went down the stairs of the terrace and scurried in the direction
+of the &Eacute;tang-des-Moines. They had not gone fifty yards, when they were
+passed by Victor, who galloped by on horseback and shouted:</p>
+
+<p>"Go in, go in! What's the use? I shall be back again!"</p>
+
+<p>They went on nevertheless. But two roads offered: Suzanne wanted to take
+the one leading to the pass, on the left; Marthe, the one on the right,
+through the woods. They exchanged sharp words, blocking each other's way.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, Suzanne, without knowing what she was saying, flung herself
+into her friend's arms, blurting out:</p>
+
+<p>"I must tell you.... It is my duty.... Besides, it is all my fault...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, enraged and not understanding the words, which she was to
+remember so clearly later, spoke to her roughly:</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite mad to-day," she said. "Leave me alone, do."</p>
+
+<p>She darted into the woods and, in a few minutes, came to an abandoned
+quarry. The path went no further. She had a fit of fury, was on the
+verge of throwing herself on the ground and bursting into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> tears and
+then retraced her steps, for she thought she heard some one call. It was
+Suzanne, who had seen a man coming from the frontier on horseback and
+who had vainly tried to make herself heard. He was no doubt bringing news....</p>
+
+<p>Panting and exhausted, they went back again. But there was no one at the
+Old Mill, no one but Mme. Morestal and Catherine, who were praying on
+the terrace. All the servants had gone off, without plan or purpose, in
+search of information; and the man on the horse, a peasant, had passed
+without looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Then they dropped on a bench near the balustrade and sat stupefied, worn
+out by the effort which they had just made; and horrible minutes
+followed. Each of the three women thought of her own special sorrow and
+each, besides, suffered the anguish of the unknown disaster that
+threatened all three of them. They dared not look at one another. They
+dared not speak, although the silence tortured them. The least sound
+represented a source of foolish hope or horrid dread; and, with their
+eyes fixed on the line of dark woods, they waited.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, they rose with a start. Catherine, who was keeping a look-out
+on the steps of the staircase, had sprung to her feet:</p>
+
+<p>"There's Henriot!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>"Henriot?" echoed Mme. Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the gardener's boy: I can make him out from here."</p>
+
+<p>"Where? We haven't seen him come."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have taken a short cut.... He is coming up the stairs....
+Quick, Henriot!... Hurry!... Do you know anything?"</p>
+
+<p>She pulled open the gate and a lad of fifteen or so, his face bathed in
+perspiration, appeared.</p>
+
+<p>He at once said:</p>
+
+<p>"There's a deserter been killed ... a German deserter."</p>
+
+<p>And the three women were forthwith overcome with a great sense of peace.
+After the rush of events that had come upon them like a tempest, it
+seemed to them as though nothing could touch them now. The phantom of
+death vanished from their minds. A man had been shot, no doubt, but that
+didn't matter, because the man was not one of theirs. And the gladness
+that revived them was such that they could almost have laughed.</p>
+
+<p>And, once again, Catherine appeared. She announced that Victor was
+returning. And the three women saw a man spurring his horse at the mouth
+of the pass, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck on the steep
+slope of the road. It was soon apparent, when the man reached the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>&Eacute;tang-des-Moines, that some one was following him with swift strides;
+and Marthe uttered cries of joy at recognizing the tall figure of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>She waved her handkerchief. Philippe answered the signal.</p>
+
+<p>"It's he!" she said, almost swooning. "It's he, mamma.... I am sure that
+he'll be able to tell us everything ... and that M. Morestal is not far off...."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go and meet them," Suzanne suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'll go," said Marthe, quickly. "You stay here, Suzanne ... stay with mamma."</p>
+
+<p>She darted away, eager to be the first to welcome Philippe and
+recovering enough strength to run to the bottom of the slope:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried. "You are back at last...."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her off the ground and pressed her to him:</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, I hear that you have been uneasy.... You need not have
+been.... I will tell you all about it...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will tell us.... But come ... come quick and kiss your mother
+and reassure her...."</p>
+
+<p>She dragged him along. They climbed the staircase and, on reaching the
+terrace, he suddenly found himself in the presence of Suzanne, who was
+waiting, convulsed with jealousy and hatred. Philippe's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> emotion was so
+great that he did not even offer her his hand. Besides, at that moment,
+Mme. Morestal ran up to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Alive."</p>
+
+<p>And Suzanne, in her turn:</p>
+
+<p>"Papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Alive also.... They have both been carried off by the German police,
+near the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"What? Prisoners?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"They haven't hurt them?"</p>
+
+<p>The three women all stood round him and pressed him with questions. He
+replied, laughing:</p>
+
+<p>"A little calmness, first.... I confess I feel rather dazed.... This
+makes two exciting nights.... Also, I am simply starving."</p>
+
+<p>His shoes and clothes were grey with dust. There was blood on one of his shirt-cuffs.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wounded!" cried Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>"No ... not I.... I'll explain to you...."</p>
+
+<p>Catherine brought him a cup of coffee, which he swallowed greedily, and he began:</p>
+
+<p>"It was about five o'clock in the morning when I got up; and I certainly
+had no idea, when I left my room ..."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe was stupefied. Why did Philippe say that he had slept there? Did
+he not know that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> absence had been discovered? But then why tell
+that lie?</p>
+
+<p>She instinctively placed herself in front of Suzanne and in front of her
+mother; and, as Philippe had broken off, himself embarrassed by the
+obvious commotion which he had caused, she asked him:</p>
+
+<p>"So, last evening, you left your father and M. Joranc&eacute;?..."</p>
+
+<p>"At the Carrefour du Grand-Ch&ecirc;ne."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, so Suzanne told us. And you came back straight?"</p>
+
+<p>"Straight."</p>
+
+<p>"But you heard the shots fired?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Shots?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, on the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I must have gone to sleep at once.... I was tired.... Otherwise, if
+I had heard them ..."</p>
+
+<p>He had an intuition of the danger which he was running, especially as
+Suzanne was trying to make signs to him. But he had prepared the opening
+of his story so carefully that, being unaccustomed to lying, he would
+have been unable to alter a single word of it without losing the little
+coolness that remained to him. Moreover, himself worn out and incapable
+of resisting the atmosphere of anxiety and nervousness that surrounded
+him, how could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> he have perceived the trap which Marthe unconsciously
+had laid for him? He, therefore, repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"Once more, when I left my room, I had no idea of what had happened. It
+was an accident that put me in the way of it. I had reached the Col du
+Diable and was walking along the frontier-road when, half-way from the
+Butte-aux-Loups, I heard moans and groans on my left. I went to the spot
+where they came from and discovered, among the bracken, a wounded man,
+covered in blood...."</p>
+
+<p>"The deserter," said Mme. Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a German private, Johann Baufeld," replied Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>He was now coming to the true portion of his story, for his interview
+with the deserter had really taken place when he was returning from
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, at break of day; and he continued, with an easier mind:</p>
+
+<p>"Johann Baufeld had only a few minutes to live. He had the death-rattle
+in his throat. Nevertheless, he had strength enough left to tell me his
+name and to speak a few words; and he died in my arms, not, however,
+before I learnt from him that M. Joranc&eacute; and my father had tried to
+protect him on French territory and that the police had turned upon
+them. I therefore went in search of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> them. The track was easy to follow.
+It took me through the Col du Diable to the hamlet of Torins. There, the
+inn-keeper made no difficulty about telling me that a squad of police,
+several of whom were mounted, had passed his house on their way to
+B&ouml;rsweilen, where they were conveying two French prisoners. One of these
+was wounded. I could not find out if it was your father, Suzanne, or
+mine. In any case, the wounds must have been slight, for both prisoners
+were sitting their horses without assistance. I felt reassured and
+turned back. At the Col du Diable, I met Victor.... You know the rest."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed quite happy at finishing his story and poured himself out a
+second cup of coffee, with the satisfied air of a man who has got off cheaply.</p>
+
+<p>The three women were silent. Suzanne lowered her head, lest she should
+betray her emotion. At last, Marthe, who had no suspicions, but who was
+worrying her head about Philippe's falsehood, resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"At what time did you come in last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"At a quarter to eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"And you went to bed at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"At once."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how is it that your bed has not been touched?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe gave a start. The question took his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> breath away. Instead of
+inventing some pretext or other, he stammered, guilelessly:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, so you went in ... you saw ..."</p>
+
+<p>He had not thought of this detail, nor, for that matter, of any of those
+which might make his story appear to clash with the facts; and he no
+longer knew what to say.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne suggested:</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Philippe spent the night in a chair...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe shrugged her shoulders; and Philippe, utterly at a loss, trying
+to make up another version, did not even answer. He remained dumb, like
+a child caught at fault.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Philippe," asked Marthe, "what's underneath this? Didn't you come straight back?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"You came back by the frontier?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why conceal it? I couldn't very well be anxious now, seeing that
+you are here."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it!" cried Philippe, plunging at a venture along this path.
+"That's just it! I did not want to tell you that I had spent the night
+looking for my father."</p>
+
+<p>"The night! Then you knew before this morning that he had been carried off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, last evening."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>"Last evening? But how? Who told you? You can only have known it by
+witnessing the arrest."</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated for a second. He could have dated his interview with the
+deserter Baufeld to that particular moment. But he did not think of
+this; and he declared, in a firm tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes, I was there ... or, at least, not far off...."</p>
+
+<p>"And you heard the shots?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I heard the shots and also some cries of pain.... When I arrived
+on the scene of the fighting, there was no one there. Then I hunted
+about.... You understand, I was afraid that my father or M. Joranc&eacute; had
+been hit by the bullets.... I hunted all night, following their track in
+the dark: a wrong track, first of all, which led me towards the Albern
+Woods. And then, this morning, I found Private Baufeld, who told me
+which way the attacking party had gone, and I pushed on to the factory
+and to the inn at Torins. But if I had told you all that, oh, by Jove,
+how you would have fretted about my fatigue! Why, I can picture you
+doing so, my poor Marthe!"</p>
+
+<p>He pretended to be gay and careless. Marthe watched him in astonishment.
+She nodded her head with a thoughtful air:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>"Yes ... you are right...."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think so? It was much simpler to tell you that I had just
+left my room, feeling fit and well, after a good night's rest.... Don't
+you agree with me, mother?... Besides, you yourself ..."</p>
+
+<p>But, at that moment, a sound of voices rose under the windows on the
+garden-side and Catherine burst into the room, yelling:</p>
+
+<p>"The master! The master!"</p>
+
+<p>And Victor also bounded in:</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the master coming! There he is!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? Who?" asked Mme. Morestal, hastening forward.</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal! There he is! We saw him at the end of the garden.... Look,
+over there, near the water-fall...."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady ran to one of the windows:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! He has seen us! O God, is it possible?"</p>
+
+<p>Staggering with excitement, she leant heavily on Marthe's arm and
+dragged her to the staircase that led to the front hall and the steps.</p>
+
+<p>They had hardly disappeared when Suzanne flung herself upon Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please, Philippe ... please!" she implored.</p>
+
+<p>He did not understand at first:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>"What is it, Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, please be careful. Don't let Marthe suspect...."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so, for a second.... She gave me such a queer look.... Oh, it
+would be terrible!... Please, please ..."</p>
+
+<p>She left him quickly, but her words and the scared look in her eyes gave
+Philippe a real fright. Hitherto, he had felt towards Marthe only the
+embarrassment provoked by the annoyance of having to tell a lie. He now
+suddenly perceived the full gravity of the situation, the peril which
+threatened Suzanne and which might shatter the happiness of his own
+household. One blunder ... and everything was discovered. And this
+thought, instead of clearing his brain forthwith, merely increased his confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"I must save Suzanne," he repeated. "Above all, I must save Suzanne."</p>
+
+<p>But he felt that he had no more power over the events at hand than a man
+has over the approaching storm. And a dull fear arose within his breast.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIA" id="CHAPTER_IIIA"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>FATHER AND SON</h3>
+
+<p>Bare-headed, tangle-haired, his clothes torn, no collar, blood on his
+shirt, on his hands, on his face, blood everywhere, a wound in his neck,
+another on his lip, unrecognizable, horrible to look at, but magnificent
+in energy, heroic and triumphant: such was the appearance presented by old Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>He chortled:</p>
+
+<p>"Here!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>An enormous laugh rolled from under his moustache:</p>
+
+<p>"Morestal? Here!... Morestal, for the second time, a prisoner of the
+Teuton ... and, for the second time, free!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe stared at him in dismay, as though at an apparition.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sonny? Is that the way you welcome me home?"</p>
+
+<p>He caught hold of a napkin and wiped his face with a great, wide
+gesture. Then he drew his wife to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, mother!... And you, Philippe!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> And you, Marthe!... And you
+too, my pretty Suzanne: once for myself and once for your father!...
+Don't cry, my child.... Daddy's all right.... They're coddling him like
+an emperor, over there ... until they let him go. And that's not far
+off. By Heaven, no! I hope the French government ..."</p>
+
+<p>He was talking like a drunken man, too fast and in an unsteady voice.
+His wife tried to make him sit down. He protested:</p>
+
+<p>"Rest? Quite unnecessary, mother. A Morestal never rests. My wounds?
+Scratches! What? The doctor? If he sets foot in this house, I'll chuck
+him out of the window!"</p>
+
+<p>"Still, you ought to take something...."</p>
+
+<p>"Take something? A glass of wine, if you like ... a glass of good French
+wine.... That's it, uncork a bottle.... We'll have a glass all round....
+Your health, Weisslicht!... Oh, what a joke!... When I think of the face
+of Weisslicht, the special commissary of the imperial government!... The
+prisoner's gone! The bird's flown!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed loudly and, after drinking two glasses of wine, one on top of
+the other, he kissed the three women once more, kissed Philippe, called
+in Victor, Catherine, the gardener, shook hands with them, sent them
+away again and began to walk up and down the room, saying:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>"No time to be lost, children! I met the sergeant of gendarmes on the
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe road. The authorities have been informed.... They can be
+here within half an hour. I want to present a report. Take a pen, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>"What's much more important," protested his wife, "is that you should
+not excite yourself like this. Here, tell us all about it instead, quite calmly."</p>
+
+<p>Old Morestal was never known to refuse to talk. He therefore began his
+story, in short, slow sentences, as she wished, describing all the
+details of attack and all the incidents of the journey to B&ouml;rsweilen.
+But, carried away once more, he raised his voice, grew indignant, worked
+himself into a rage, burst into sarcasm:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they showed no lack of civility!... It was, 'Monsieur le
+commissaire sp&eacute;cial!... Monsieur le conseiller d'arrondissement!'...
+Weisslicht had his mouth crammed with our titles!... All the same, at
+one o'clock in the morning, we were safely locked up in two nice little
+rooms in the town-hall at B&ouml;rsweilen.... In quod, what!... With a
+probable indictment for complicity, espionage, high treason and the
+devil knows what hanging over our heads!... Only, in that case,
+gentlemen, you should not carry politeness so far as to release your
+captives from their handcuffs; and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> windows of your cells ought not
+to be closed with bars too slight to be of any use; and you ought not to
+let one of your prisoners keep his pocket-knife. If you do, as long as
+that prisoner has any grit in him&mdash;and a file to his knife, by Jove!&mdash;he
+will try what he can do. And I did try, by Jingo! At four o'clock in the
+morning, after cutting the window-pane and filing or loosening four of
+the bars, old Morestal let himself down by a waste-pipe and took to his
+heels. Kind friends, farewell!... It was now only a question of getting
+home.... The Col du Diable? The Albern Woods? The Butte-aux-Loups? No
+such fool! The vermin were bound to be swarming on that side.... And, in
+fact, I heard the drums beating and the trumpets sounding the alarm and
+the horses galloping. They were hunting for me, of course!... But how
+could they have thought of hunting for me six miles away, in the Val de
+Sainte-Marie, right in the middle of the Forest of Arzance? And I
+trotted ... I trotted until I was simply done.... I crossed the border
+at eight o'clock, unseen and unknown. Morestal's foot was on his native
+heath! At ten o'clock, I saw the steeple of Saint-&Eacute;lophe from the
+C&ocirc;te-Blanche and I cut straight across, so as to get home quicker. And
+here I am! A bit tired, I admit, but quite presentable.... Well, what do
+you say to old Morestal now, eh?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>He had stood up and, forgetting all about the fatigue of the night, was
+enlivening his discourse with a savage display of gesture which alarmed his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"And my poor father was not able to escape?" asked Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"No, they had taken care to search him," replied Morestal. "Besides,
+they watched him more closely than they did me ... so he could not do as
+I did...." And he added. "And a good job too! For I should have been
+left to languish in their prisons until the end of an interminable
+trial; whereas he, in forty-eight hours ... But this is all talk. The
+authorities can't be far away. I want to have my report ready. There are
+certain things which I suspect ... the business was a plot from start to finish...."</p>
+
+<p>He interrupted himself, as though startled by an unexpected thought, and
+sat for a long time motionless, with his head in his hands. Then,
+suddenly, he struck the table with his fist:</p>
+
+<p>"That's it! I understand the whole thing now! Upon my word, it's taken me long enough!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Dourlowski, of course!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dourlowski?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes! From the first minute, I guessed that it was a trap, a trap
+contrived by inferior <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>police-agents. But how was it laid? I see it now.
+Dourlowski came here yesterday, on some pretext or other. He knew that
+Joranc&eacute; and I would take the frontier-road in the evening; and the
+passing of the deserter was contrived to take place at that moment, in
+connivance with the German detectives! One of them whistles as soon as
+we come up; and the soldier, who has been told, of course, that this
+whistle is a signal from the French accomplices, the soldier, whom
+Dourlowski or his confederates hold in a leash, like a dog, the soldier
+is let go. That's the whole mystery! It was not he, the poor wretch,
+whom they were after, but Joranc&eacute; and Morestal. Morestal, right enough,
+flies to the rescue of the fugitive. They collar him, they lay hold of
+Joranc&eacute;; and there we are, accomplices both. Bravo, gentlemen! Well played!"</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"But, I say, it might be a serious thing ..."</p>
+
+<p>"For Joranc&eacute;," he replied, "yes, because he is in custody; only&mdash;there
+is an 'only'&mdash;the pursuit of the deserter took place on French soil. We
+also were arrested on French soil. It was a flagrant violation of the
+frontier. So there's nothing to be afraid of."</p>
+
+<p>"You think so?" asked Suzanne. "You think that my father ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to be afraid of," repeated Morestal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> And he declared,
+positively, "I look upon Joranc&eacute; as free."</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut!" mumbled the old lady. "Things won't go so fast as that."</p>
+
+<p>"Once more, I look upon Joranc&eacute; as free and for this good reason, that
+the frontier has been violated."</p>
+
+<p>"Who will prove the violation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? Why, I, of course!... And Joranc&eacute;!... Do you think they'll doubt
+the word of honest men like us? Besides, there are other proofs. They
+will find the traces of the pursuit, the traces of the attack, the
+traces of the stand which we made. And who can tell? There may have been witnesses...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe turned her eyes on Philippe. He was listening to his father, with
+a face so pale that she was astounded. She waited for a few seconds and
+then, seeing that he did not speak, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"There was a witness."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal started:</p>
+
+<p>"What's that, Marthe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe was there."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! We left Philippe at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch&ecirc;ne, at the
+bottom of the hill, didn't we, Suzanne? You remained behind together."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe intervened, quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne went off at once! and so did I ...<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> but I had not gone two
+hundred yards when I turned back."</p>
+
+<p>"So that was why you did not answer when I called to you, half-way up the hill?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect so. I went back to the Grand-Ch&ecirc;ne."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"To join you.... I was sorry I had left you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you were behind us at the time of the attack?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, of course, you heard the shots fired!... Let me see, you
+must have been on the Butte-aux-Loups...."</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhere near there...."</p>
+
+<p>"And perhaps you saw us.... From above!... With the moonlight!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" protested Philippe. "No, I saw nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, if you heard the firing, you must certainly have heard Joranc&eacute;
+shouting.... They stuffed a gag into my mouth.... But Joranc&eacute; kept on
+roaring, 'We are in France! We are on French territory!' You heard
+Joranc&eacute; shouting, didn't you, now?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe hesitated before making a reply of which he vaguely felt the
+tremendous importance. But, opposite him, he saw Marthe watching him
+with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> increasing surprise and, near Marthe, he saw Suzanne's drawn
+features. He said:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I heard him ... I heard him at a distance...."</p>
+
+<p>Old Morestal could not contain himself for joy. And, when he learnt
+besides that Philippe had received the last words of Baufeld the
+deserter, he burst out:</p>
+
+<p>"You saw him? He was alive? He told you that they had set a trap for us, didn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"He mentioned the name of Dourlowski."</p>
+
+<p>"Capital! But our meeting with the soldier, the pursuit ... he must have
+told you that all this took place in France?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I seemed to understand ..."</p>
+
+<p>"We've got them!" shouted Morestal. "We've got them! Of course, I was
+quite easy in my mind.... But all the same, Philippe's evidence, the
+declaration of the dying private.... Ah, the brigands, they'll have to
+let go their prey!... We were in France, kind friends! There has been a
+violation of the frontier!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe saw that he had gone too far; and he objected:</p>
+
+<p>"My evidence is not evidence in the proper sense of the word.... As for
+the soldier, I could hardly make out ..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>"We've got them, I tell you. The little that you were able to see, the
+little that you were able to hear all agrees with my own evidence, that
+is to say, with the truth. We've got them! And here come the gentlemen
+from the public prosecutor's office, who will be of my opinion, I bet
+you what you like! And it won't take long either! Joranc&eacute; will be free to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>He dropped the pen, which he had taken up in order to write his report
+himself, and went quickly to the window, attracted by the sound of a
+motor-car sweeping round the garden-lawn:</p>
+
+<p>"The sub-prefect," he said. "By Jove, so the government know about it!
+The examining-magistrate and the prosecutor.... Ha, ha, they are not
+wasting any time, I see!... Quick, mother, have them shown in here....
+I'll be back in a minute: I must just put on a collar and change my jacket...."</p>
+
+<p>"Father!"</p>
+
+<p>Morestal stopped in the doorway:</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, my boy?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I have something to say to you," said Philippe, resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. But it'll keep until presently, won't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have something to say to you now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! In that case, come along with me. Yes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> you can give me a hand,
+instead of Victor, who is out."</p>
+
+<p>And, laughing, he went to his room.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe involuntarily took a few steps, as though she proposed to be
+present at the conversation. Philippe experienced a momentary
+embarrassment. Then he quickly made up his mind:</p>
+
+<p>"No, Marthe, you had better stay."</p>
+
+<p>"But ..."</p>
+
+<p>"No, once more, no. Excuse me. I will explain later...."</p>
+
+<p>And he followed his father.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they were alone, Morestal, who was thinking much more about
+his evidence than about Philippe's words, asked, casually:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it private?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... and very serious," Philippe declared.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very serious, as you will see in a moment, father.... It's about a
+position in which I find myself placed, a horrible position which I
+don't know how to get out of, unless ..."</p>
+
+<p>He went no further. Acting under an instinctive impulse, thrown off his
+balance by the arrival of the examining-magistrate and by a sudden
+vision of the events to come, he had appealed to his father.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> He wanted
+to speak, to say the words that would deliver him. What words? He did
+not quite know. But anything, anything rather than give false evidence
+and affix his signature to a lying deposition!</p>
+
+<p>He stammered at first, while his brain refused to act, seeking in vain
+for an acceptable solution. How was he to stop on the downward course
+along which he was being dragged by a combination of hostile forces,
+accidents, coincidences and implacable, trifling facts? How was he to
+break through the circle which a cruel fate was doing its utmost to
+trace around him?</p>
+
+<p>It suddenly burst in upon him that the only possible way out lay in
+proclaiming the immediate truth, in bluntly revealing his conduct.</p>
+
+<p>He shuddered with disgust. What! Accuse Suzanne! Was that the
+half-formed idea that inspired him, unknown to himself? Had he really
+thought of ruining her in order that he might be saved? It was now that
+he first realized the full nature of his predicament, for he would a
+thousand times rather have died than dishonour the girl, even in his
+father's eyes alone.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal, who had finished dressing, chaffed him:</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all you wanted to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.... I made a mistake," replied Philippe. "I thought ..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>He was leaning on the window-rail and looked out inertly at the large
+sort of park formed by the clustering trees and the undulating meadows
+of the Vosges. He was now obsessed by other thoughts, which mingled with
+his own anxiety. He went back to old Morestal:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite sure that the arrest took place on French soil?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word, you must be mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's possible that, without noticing it, you crossed the frontier-line...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... exactly ... so we did. But, at the moment of the first attack
+and again at the moment of the arrest, we were in France. There is no
+doubt about that."</p>
+
+<p>"Just think, father, if there were the slightest doubt!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what then? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that this incident will have further consequences. The affair
+will create a noise."</p>
+
+<p>"What do I care? The truth comes first, surely? Once we are in the
+right, we are bound to see that our rights are recognized and that
+Joranc&eacute; is released."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal planted himself firmly in front of his son:</p>
+
+<p>"You're of my way of thinking, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>"How do you mean, no?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, father: the circumstances seem to me to be very serious. The
+examining-magistrate's enquiry is most important. It will serve as a
+basis for later enquiries. It seems to me that we ought to reflect and
+give our evidence with a certain reserve, with caution.... We must behave prudently...."</p>
+
+<p>"We must behave like Frenchmen who are in the right," cried Morestal,
+"and who, when they are in the right, fear nobody and nothing in this world!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not even war?"</p>
+
+<p>"War! What are you talking about? War! But there can't be war over an
+incident like this! The way things are shaping, Germany will yield."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" said Philippe, who seemed relieved by this assertion.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly! But on one condition, that we establish our right firmly.
+There has been a violation of the frontier. That is beyond dispute. Let
+us prove it; and every chance of a conflict is removed."</p>
+
+<p>"But, if we don't succeed in proving it?" asked Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, in that case, it can't be helped!... Of course, they will dispute
+it. But have no fear, my boy: the proofs exist; and we can safely go
+ahead....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Come along, they're waiting for us downstairs...."</p>
+
+<p>He grasped the door-handle.</p>
+
+<p>"Father!"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, what's the matter with you to-day? Aren't you coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not yet," said Philippe, who saw a way out and who was making a
+last effort to escape. "Presently.... I must absolutely tell you.... You
+and I start from a different point of view.... I have rather different
+ideas from yours ... and, as the occasion happens to present itself ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible, my boy! They are waiting for us...."</p>
+
+<p>"You must hear me," cried Philippe, blocking the way. "I refuse to
+accept with a light heart a responsibility that is not in accordance
+with my present opinions; and that is why an explanation between us has
+become inevitable."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal looked at him with an air of amazement:</p>
+
+<p>"Your present opinions! Ideas different from mine! What's all this nonsense?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe felt, even more clearly than on the day before, the violence of
+a conflict which a confession would provoke. But, this time, his resolve
+was taken. There were too many reasons urging him towards a breach which
+he considered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>necessary. With his mind and his whole frame palpitating
+with his tense will, he was about to utter the irrevocable words, when
+Marthe hurried into the room:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't keep your father, Philippe; the examining-magistrate is asking for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Morestal. "I am not sorry that you have come to release me,
+my dear Marthe. Your husband's crazy. He's been talking a string of
+nonsense these past ten minutes. What you want, my boy, is rest."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe made a slight movement. Marthe whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet."</p>
+
+<p>And she said it in so imperious a tone that he was taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving the room, Morestal walked to the window. Bugle-notes
+sounded in the distance and he leant out to hear them better.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe at once said to Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"I came in on chance. I felt that you were seeking an explanation with your father."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I had to."</p>
+
+<p>"About your ideas, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must."</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is ill.... It's his heart.... A fit of anger might prove
+fatal ... especially after last night. Not a word, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, Morestal closed the window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> He passed in front of them
+and then, turning and placing his hand on his son's shoulder, he
+murmured, in accents of restrained ardour:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear the enemy's bugle, over there? Ah, Philippe, I don't want
+it to become a war-song!... But, all the same, if it should ... if it should!..."</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>At one o'clock on the afternoon of Tuesday the 2nd of September,
+Philippe, sitting opposite his father, before the pensive eyes of
+Marthe, before the anxious eyes of Suzanne, Philippe, after relating
+most minutely his conversation with the dying soldier, declared that he
+had heard at a distance the cries of protest uttered by Joranc&eacute;, the special commissary.</p>
+
+<p>Having made the declaration, he signed it.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVA" id="CHAPTER_IVA"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ENQUIRIES</h3>
+
+<p>The tragedy enacted that night and morning was so harsh, so virulent and
+so swift that it left the inmates of the Old Mill as though stunned.
+Instead of uniting them in a common emotion, it scattered them, giving
+each of them an impression of discomfort and uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>In Philippe, this took the form of a state of torpor that kept him
+asleep until the next morning. He awoke, however, in excellent
+condition, but with an immense longing for solitude. In reality, he
+shrank from finding himself in the presence of his father and his wife.</p>
+
+<p>He went out, therefore, very early, across the woods and fields, stopped
+at an inn, climbed the Ballon de Vergix and did not come home until
+lunch-time. He was very calm by then and quite master of himself.</p>
+
+<p>To men like Philippe, men endowed with upright natures and generous
+minds, but not prone to waste time in reflecting upon the minor cases of
+conscience that arise in daily life, the sense of duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> performed
+becomes, at critical periods, a sort of standard by which they judge
+their actions. This sense Philippe experienced in all its fulness.
+Placed by a series of abnormal circumstances between the necessity of
+betraying Suzanne or the necessity of swearing upon oath to a thing
+which he did not know, he felt that he was certainly entitled to lie.
+The lie seemed just and natural. He did not deny the fault which he had
+committed in succumbing to the young girl's fascinations and wiles: but,
+having committed the fault, he owed it to Suzanne to keep it secret,
+whatever the consequences of his discretion might be. There was no
+excuse that permitted him to break silence.</p>
+
+<p>He found, on the drawing-room table, the three newspapers which were
+taken at the Old Mill: the <i>&Eacute;claireur des Vosges</i>; a Paris
+evening-paper; and the <i>B&ouml;rsweilener Zeitung</i>, a morning-paper printed
+in German, but French in tone and inspiration. A glance at these
+completely reassured him. Amid the confusion of the first reports
+devoted to the Joranc&eacute; case, his own part passed almost unnoticed. The
+<i>&Eacute;claireur des Vosges</i> summoned up his evidence in a couple of lines.
+When all was said, he was and would be no more than a supernumerary.</p>
+
+<p>"A walking gentleman, at the outside," he murmured, with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, at the outside. It's your father and M. Joranc&eacute; who play the star
+parts."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe had entered and caught his last words, which he had spoken aloud,
+and was answering him with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>She put her arm around his neck with the fond gesture usual to her and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Philippe, you need not worry yourself. Your evidence is of no
+importance and cannot influence events in any way. You can be very sure of that."</p>
+
+<p>Their faces were quite close together and Philippe read nothing but
+gaiety and affection in Marthe's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He understood that she had ascribed his behaviour of the previous day,
+his first, false version, his reticence and his confusion to scruples of
+conscience and vague apprehensions. Anxious about the consequences of
+the business and dreading lest his testimony might complicate it, he had
+tried to avoid the annoyance of giving evidence.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you're right," he said, with a view to confirming her in her
+mistake. "Besides, is the business so very serious?"</p>
+
+<p>They talked together for a few minutes and, gradually, while watching
+her, he changed the subject to the Joranc&eacute;s:</p>
+
+<p>"Has Suzanne been this morning?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>Marthe appeared astonished:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne?" she said. "Don't you know?... Oh, of course, you were asleep
+last evening. Suzanne spent the night here."</p>
+
+<p>He turned aside his head, to hide the flush that spread over his
+features, and he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she slept here, did she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. M. Morestal wishes her to stay with us until M. Joranc&eacute;'s return."</p>
+
+<p>"But ... but where is she now?..."</p>
+
+<p>"She is at B&ouml;rsweilen ... she has gone to ask for leave to see her father."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Victor went with her."</p>
+
+<p>With an air of indifference, Philippe asked:</p>
+
+<p>"How is she? Depressed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much depressed.... I don't know why, but she imagines that it was
+her fault that her father was kidnapped.... She says she urged him to go
+for that walk!... Poor Suzanne, what interest could she have in remaining alone?..."</p>
+
+<p>He plainly perceived, from his wife's voice and attitude, that, although
+certain coincidences had surprised her, her mind had not been touched by
+the shadow of a suspicion. On that side, everything was over. The danger was averted.</p>
+
+<p>Happily released from his fears, Philippe had the further satisfaction
+of learning that his father had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> spent a very good night and that he had
+gone to the town-hall at Saint-&Eacute;lophe. He questioned his mother. Mme.
+Morestal, yielding like Philippe to that desire for assuagement and
+security which comes over us after any great shock, reassured him on the
+subject of the old man's health. Certainly, there was something the
+matter with the heart: Dr. Borel insisted upon his leading the most
+regular and monotonous life. But Dr. Borel always looked at the dark
+side of things; and, all considered, Morestal had borne the fatigue
+attendant on his capture and escape, hard though it was, very well indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, you have only to look at him," she concluded. "Here he comes,
+back from Saint-&Eacute;lophe."</p>
+
+<p>They saw him alight from the carriage with the brisk and springy step of
+a young man. He joined them in the drawing-room and at once cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what an uproar! I've telephoned to town.... They're talking of
+nothing else.... And who do you think swooped down upon me at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe? Quite half-a-dozen reporters! I sent them away with a flea
+in their ears! A set of fellows who make mischief wherever they go and
+who arrange everything as it suits them!... They're the scourge of our
+time!... I shall give Catherine formal orders that no one is to be
+admitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> to the Old Mill.... Why, did you see how they report my
+escape? I'm supposed to have strangled the sentry and to have made a
+couple of Uhlans who pursued me bite the dust!..."</p>
+
+<p>He could not succeed in concealing his satisfaction and drew himself to
+his full height, like a man who sees nothing astonishing in an exploit of that kind.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe asked.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is the general feeling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just what the papers say. Joranc&eacute;'s release is imminent. I told you as
+much. The more we assert ourselves, as we have every right to do, the
+sooner the thing will be over. You must understand that friend Joranc&eacute;
+is being examined at this moment and that he is giving exactly the same
+replies that I did. So you see!... No, once more, Germany will give way.
+It is only a question of a day or two. So don't upset yourself, my boy,
+since you're so afraid of war ... and the responsibilities attaching to it!..."</p>
+
+<p>This, when all was said and done, was the motive to which he, like
+Marthe, ascribed the incoherent words which Philippe had uttered
+previous to his appearance before the magistrates; and, without going
+deeper into the matter, it gave him, on his side, a certain sense of
+anger, mingled with a mild contempt. Philippe Morestal, old Morestal's
+son,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> afraid of war! He was one more corrupted by the Paris poison!...</p>
+
+<p>Lunch was very lively. The old man never ceased talking. His
+good-humour, his optimism, his steady belief in a favourable and
+immediate solution overcame every resistance; and Philippe himself was
+glad to share a conviction that delighted him.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon was continued under equally propitious auspices. Morestal
+and Philippe were sent for to the frontier, where, in the presence of
+the public prosecutor, the sub-prefect, the sergeant of gendarmes and a
+number of journalists whom they tried in vain to send away, the
+examining-magistrate carefully completed the investigations which he had
+begun the day before. Morestal had to repeat the story of the aggression
+on the spot where it occurred, to point definitely to the road followed
+before the attack and during the flight, to fix the place where Private
+Baufeld had crossed the frontier-line and the place where the commissary
+and himself were arrested.</p>
+
+<p>He did so without hesitation, walking to and fro, talking and making his
+statements so positively, so logically and so sincerely that the scene,
+as pictured by him, lived again before the spectators'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> eyes. His
+demonstration was lucid and commanding. Here, the first shot was fired.
+There, a sharp divergence to the right, on German territory. Here, back
+in France and, further on, at that exact spot, fifteen yards on this
+side of the frontier, the scene of the fight, the place of the arrest.
+Indications, undeniable indications, abounded. It was the truth, with no
+possible fear of a mistake.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe was carried away and categorically confirmed his original
+declaration. He had heard the special commissary shouting, as he
+approached the Butte-aux-Loups. The words, "We are in France!... There
+is the frontier!" had reached him distinctly. And he described his
+search, his conversation with Private Baufeld and the wounded man's
+evidence concerning the encroachment on French territory.</p>
+
+<p>The enquiry ended with a piece of good news. On Monday, a few hours
+before the attack, Farmer Saboureux was said to have seen Weisslicht,
+the chief of the German detectives, and a certain Dourlowski, a hawker,
+walking in the woods and trying to keep hidden. Now Morestal, without
+confessing the relations that existed between him and that individual,
+had nevertheless spoken of the visit of this Dourlowski and of his
+proposal that the witness should act as an accomplice. An understanding
+between Dourlowski and Weisslicht was a proof<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> that an ambush had been
+laid and that the passing of Private Baufeld across the frontier,
+arranged for half-past ten, was only a pretext to catch the special
+commissary and his friend in a trap.</p>
+
+<p>The magistrates made no secret of their satisfaction. The Joranc&eacute; case,
+a plot hatched by subordinate officials of police, whom the imperial
+government would not hesitate to disown was becoming rapidly reduced to
+the proportions of an incident which would lead to nothing and be
+forgotten on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said Morestal, walking away with his son, while the
+magistrates went on to Saboureux's Farm. "It will be an even simpler
+matter than I hoped. The French government will know the results of the
+enquiry this evening. There will be an exchange of views with the German
+embassy; and to-morrow ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?..."</p>
+
+<p>"I go further. I believe that Germany will make the first advance."</p>
+
+<p>As they came to the Col du Diable, they passed a small company of men
+headed by one in a gold-laced cap.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal took off his hat with a flourish and grinned:</p>
+
+<p>"Good-afternoon!... I hope I see you well!"</p>
+
+<p>The man passed without speaking.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>"Who is that?" asked Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Weisslicht, the chief of the detectives."</p>
+
+<p>"And the others?"</p>
+
+<p>"The others?... It's the Germans making their investigation."</p>
+
+<p>It was then four o'clock in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>The remainder of that day passed peacefully at the Old Mill. Suzanne
+arrived from B&ouml;rsweilen at nightfall, looking radiant. They had given
+her a letter from her father and she would be authorized to see him on Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not even have to go back to B&ouml;rsweilen," said Morestal. "Your
+father will come to fetch you here, won't he, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>Dinner brought them all five together under the family lamp; and they
+experienced a feeling of relaxation, comfort and repose. They drank to
+the special commissary's health. And it seemed to them as if his place
+were not even empty, so great was the certainty with which they expected his return.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe was the only one who did not share in the general gaiety.
+Sitting beside Marthe and opposite Suzanne, he was bound, with his
+upright nature and his sane judgment, to suffer at finding himself
+situated in such a false position. Since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> the night before last, since
+the moment when he had left Suzanne while the dawning light of day stole
+into her room at Saint-&Eacute;lophe, this was the first instant that he had
+had any sort of time to conjure up the memory of those unnerving hours.
+Alarmed by the course of events, obsessed by his anxiety about the way
+in which he was to act, his one and only thought of Suzanne had been how
+not to compromise her.</p>
+
+<p>Now, he saw her before him. He heard her laugh and talk. She lived in
+his presence, not as he had known her in Paris and found her at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, but adorned with a different charm, of which he knew the
+mysterious secret. True, he remained master of himself and he clearly
+felt that no temptation would induce him to succumb a second time. But
+could he help it that she had fair hair, the colour of which bewitched
+him, and quivering lips and a voice melodious as a song? And could he
+help it that all this filled him with an emotion which every minute that
+passed made more profound?</p>
+
+<p>Their eyes met. Suzanne trembled under Philippe's gaze. A sort of
+bashfulness decked her as with a veil that gives added beauty to its
+wearer. She was as desirable as a wife and as winsome as a bride.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>At that moment, Marthe smiled to Philippe. He turned red and thought:</p>
+
+<p>"I shall go away to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>His decision was taken then and there. He would not remain a day longer
+between the two women. The mere sight of their intimacy was hateful to
+him. He would go away without a word. He knew the danger of
+leave-takings between people who love, knew how they soften us and
+disarm us. He wanted none of those compromises and evasions. Temptation,
+even if we resist it, is a fault in itself.</p>
+
+<p>When dinner was over, he stood up and went to his bedroom, where Marthe
+joined him. He learnt from her that Suzanne's room was on the same
+floor. Later, he heard the young girl come upstairs. But he knew that
+nothing would make him fall again.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he was alone, he opened his window, sat a long time staring
+at the vague outlines of the trees, then undressed and went to bed.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, Marthe brought him his letters. He at once recognized
+the writing of a friend on one of the envelopes:</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" he said, jumping at the pretext. "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> letter from Pierre Belum. I
+hope it's not to tell me to come back!"</p>
+
+<p>He opened the letter and, after reading it, said:</p>
+
+<p>"It's as I feared! I shall have to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Not before this evening, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>It was old Morestal, who had entered the room with an open letter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are specially summoned to appear before the Prefect of the Vosges in
+the town-hall at Saint-&Eacute;lophe."</p>
+
+<p>"I too?"</p>
+
+<p>"You too. They want to verify certain points in your deposition."</p>
+
+<p>"So they are beginning all over again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's a fresh enquiry. It appears that things are becoming complicated."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am saying what this morning's papers say. According to the latest
+telegrams, Germany has no intention of releasing Joranc&eacute;. Moreover,
+there have been manifestations in Paris. Berlin also is stirring. The
+yellow press are adopting an arrogant tone. In short ..."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the matter is taking a very nasty turn."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe gave a start. He walked up to his father and, yielding to a
+sudden fit of anger:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>"There! Which of us was right? You see, you see what's happening now!
+If you had listened to me ..."</p>
+
+<p>"If I had listened to you?..." echoed Morestal, emphasizing each word
+and at once preparing for a quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>But Philippe restrained himself. Marthe made a remark or two at random.
+And then all three were silent.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, of what use was speech? The thunderstorm had passed over their
+heads and was rumbling over France. Henceforward powerless, they must
+undergo its consequences and hear its distant echoes without being able
+to influence the formidable elements that had been let loose during that Monday night.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VA" id="CHAPTER_VA"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THE THUNDERCLAP</h3>
+
+<p>The German argument was simple enough: the arrest had taken place in
+Germany. At least, that was what the newspapers stated in the extracts
+which Philippe and his father read in the <i>B&ouml;rsweilener Zeitung</i>. Was it
+not to be expected that this would be the argument eventually
+adopted&mdash;if it was not adopted already&mdash;by the imperial government?</p>
+
+<p>At B&ouml;rsweilen&mdash;the <i>Zeitung</i> made no mystery about it&mdash;people were very
+positive. After twenty-four hours' silence, the authorities took their
+stand upon the explanation given the day before by Weisslicht, in the
+course of an enquiry attended by several functionaries, who were
+mentioned by name; and they declared aloud that everything had taken
+place in due form and that it was impossible to go back upon
+accomplished facts. Special Commissary Joranc&eacute; and Councillor Morestal,
+caught in the act of assisting a deserter, would be brought before the
+German courts and their case tried in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> accordance with German law.
+Besides, it was added, there were other charges against them.</p>
+
+<p>Of Dourlowski, there was no mention. He was ignored.</p>
+
+<p>"But the whole case depends upon him!" exclaimed Morestal, after
+receiving the Prefect of the Vosges at the Saint-&Eacute;lophe town-hall and
+discussing the German argument with him and the examining-magistrate.
+"The whole case depends upon him, monsieur le pr&eacute;fet. Even supposing
+their argument to be correct, what is it worth, if we prove that we were
+drawn into an ambush by Weisslicht and that Baufeld's desertion was a
+got-up job contrived by subordinate officials of police? And the proof
+of this rests upon Dourlowski!"</p>
+
+<p>He was indignant at the hawker's disappearance. But he added:</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunately, we have Farmer Saboureux's evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"We had it yesterday," said the examining-magistrate, "but we haven't it to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday, Wednesday, when I was questioning him, Farmer Saboureux
+declared that he had seen Weisslicht and Dourlowski together. He even
+used certain words which made me suspect that he had noticed the
+preparations for the attack and that he was an unseen witness of it ...
+and a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>valuable witness, as you will agree. This morning, Thursday, he
+retracts, he is not sure that it was Weisslicht he saw and, at night, he
+was asleep ... he heard nothing ... not even the shooting.... And he
+lives at five hundred yards from the spot!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of such a thing! What does he mean by backing out like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say," replied the magistrate. "Still, I saw a copy of the
+<i>B&ouml;rsweilener Zeitung</i> sticking out of his pocket ... things have
+altered since yesterday ... and Saboureux has been reflecting...."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so? Is he afraid of war?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, afraid of reprisals. He told me an old story about Uhlans, about a
+farm that was burnt down. So that's what it is: he's afraid!..."</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>The day began badly. Morestal and his son walked silently by the old
+road to the frontier, where the enquiry was resumed in detail. But, at
+the Butte, they saw three men in gold-laced caps smoking their pipes by
+the German frontier-post.</p>
+
+<p>And, further on, at the foot of the slope, in a sort of clearing on the
+left, they perceived two more, lying flat on their stomachs, who were also smoking.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>And, around these two, there were a number of freshly-painted
+black-and-yellow stakes, driven into the ground in a circle and roped together.</p>
+
+<p>In reply to a question put to them, the men said that that was the place
+where Commissary Joranc&eacute; had been arrested.</p>
+
+<p>Now this place, adopted by the hostile enquiry, was on German territory
+and at twenty yards beyond the road that marked the dividing-line
+between the two countries!</p>
+
+<p>Philippe had to drag his father away. Old Morestal was choking with rage:</p>
+
+<p>"They are lying! They are lying! It's scandalous.... And they know it!
+Is it likely I should be mistaken? Why, I belong here! Whereas they ...
+a pack of police-spies!..."</p>
+
+<p>When he had grown calmer, he began his explanations over again. Philippe
+next repeated his, in less definite terms, this time, and with a
+hesitation which old Morestal, absorbed in his grievances, did not
+observe, but which could not well escape the others.</p>
+
+<p>The father and son returned to the Old Mill together, as on the day
+before. Morestal was no longer so triumphant and Philippe thought of
+Farmer Saboureux, who, warned by his peasant shrewdness, varied his
+evidence according to the threat of possible events.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>As soon as he reached home, he took refuge in his room. Marthe went up
+to him and found him lying on the bed, with his head between his hands.
+He would not even answer when she spoke to him. But, at four o'clock,
+hearing that his father, eager for news, had ordered the carriage, he went downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>They drove to Saint-&Eacute;lophe and then, growing more and more anxious, to
+Noirmont, twelve miles beyond it, where Morestal had many friends. One
+of these took them to the offices of the <i>&Eacute;claireur</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Here, nothing was known as yet: the telegraph-and telephone-wires were
+blocked. But, at eight o'clock, a first telegram got through: groups of
+people had raised manifestations outside the German embassy. On the
+Place de la Concorde, the statue of the city of Strasburg was covered
+with flags and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Then the telegrams flowed in.</p>
+
+<p>Questioned in the Chamber, the prime minister had replied, amid the
+applause of the whole house:</p>
+
+<p>"We ask, we claim your absolute confidence, your blind confidence. If
+some of you refuse it to the minister, at least grant it to the
+Frenchman. For it is a Frenchman who speaks in your name. And it is a
+Frenchman who will act."</p>
+
+<p>In the lobby outside the house, a member of the opposition had begun to
+sing the <i>Marseillaise</i>, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> was taken up by all the rest of the
+members in chorus.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was the other side of the question: telegrams from
+Germany; the yellow press rabid; all the evening-papers adopting an
+uncompromising, aggressive attitude; Berlin in uproar....</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>They drove back at midnight; and, although they were both seized with a
+like emotion, it aroused in them ideas so different that they did not
+exchange a word. Morestal himself, who was not aware of the divorce that
+had taken place between their minds, dared not indulge in his usual speeches.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, the <i>B&ouml;rsweilener Zeitung</i> announced movements of
+troops towards the frontier. The emperor, who was cruising in the North
+Sea, had landed at Ostende. The chancellor was waiting for him at
+Cologne. And it was thought that the French ambassador had also gone to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>Thenceforward, throughout that Friday and the following Saturday, the
+inmates of the Old Mill lived in a horrible nightmare. The storm was now
+shaking the whole of France and Germany, the whole of quivering Europe.
+They heard it roar. The earth cracked under its fury. What terrible
+catastrophe would it produce?</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>And they, who had let it loose&mdash;the actors of no account, relegated to
+the background, the supernumeraries whose parts were played&mdash;they could
+see nothing of the spectacle but distant, blood-red gleams.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe took refuge in a fierce silence that distressed his wife.
+Morestal was nervous, excited and in an execrable temper. He went out
+for no reason, came in again at once, could not keep still:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he cried, in a moment of despondency in which his thoughts stood
+plainly revealed, "why did we come home by the frontier? Why did I help
+that deserter? For there's no denying it: if I hadn't helped him,
+nothing would have happened."</p>
+
+<p>On Friday evening, it became known that the chancellor, who already had
+the German reports in his hands, now possessed the French papers, which
+had been communicated by our ambassador. The affair, hitherto purely
+administrative, was becoming diplomatic. And the government was
+demanding the release of the special commissary of Saint-&Eacute;lophe, who had
+been arrested on French territory.</p>
+
+<p>"If they consent, all will be well," said Morestal. "There is no
+humiliation for Germany in disowning the action of a pack of minor
+officials. But, if they refuse, if they believe the policemen's lies,
+what will happen then? France cannot give way."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>On Saturday morning, the <i>B&ouml;rsweilener Zeitung</i> printed the following
+short paragraph in a special edition:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"After making a careful examination of the French papers, the
+chancellor has returned them to the French ambassador. The case of
+Commissary Joranc&eacute;, accused of the crime of high treason and
+arrested on German territory, will be tried in the German courts."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>It was a refusal.</p>
+
+<p>That morning, Morestal took his son to the Col du Diable and, bent in
+two, following the road to the Butte-aux-Loups step by step, examining
+each winding turn, noting a big root here and a long branch there, he
+reconstituted the plan of the attack. And he showed Philippe the trees
+against which he had brushed in his flight and the trees at the foot of
+which he and his friend had stood and defended themselves:</p>
+
+<p>"It was there, Philippe, and nowhere else.... Do you see that little
+open space? That's where it was.... I have often come and smoked my pipe
+here, because of this little mound to sit upon.... That's the place!"</p>
+
+<p>He sat down on the same mound and said no more, staring before him,
+while Philippe looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> at him. Several times, he repeated, between his
+teeth:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, this is certainly the place.... How could I be mistaken?"</p>
+
+<p>And, suddenly, he pressed his two fists to his temples and blurted out:</p>
+
+<p>"Still, suppose I were mistaken! Suppose I had branched off more to the
+right ... and ..."</p>
+
+<p>He interrupted himself, cast his eyes around him, rising to his feet:</p>
+
+<p>"It's impossible! One can't make as big a blunder as that, short of
+being mad! How could I have? I was thinking of one thing only; I kept
+saying to myself, 'I must remain in France, I must keep to the left of
+the line.' And I did keep to it, hang it all! It is absolutely
+certain.... What then? Am I to deny the truth in order to please them?"</p>
+
+<p>And Philippe, who had never ceased watching him, replied, within himself:</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, father? What would that little falsehood signify, compared
+with the magnificent result that would be obtained? If you would tell a
+lie, father, or if only you would assert so fatal a truth less forcibly,
+France could give way without the least disgrace, since it is your
+evidence alone that compels her to make her demand! And, in this way,
+you would have saved your country...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>But he did not speak. His father was guided by a conception of duty
+which Philippe knew to be as lofty and as legitimate as his own. What
+right had he to expect his father to act according to his, Philippe's,
+conscience? What to one of them would be only a fib would be to the
+other, to old Morestal, a criminal betrayal of his own side. Morestal,
+when giving his evidence, was speaking in the name of France. And France
+does not tell lies.</p>
+
+<p>"If there is a possible solution," Philippe said to himself, "my father
+is not the man to be asked to provide it. My father represents a mass of
+intangible ideas, principles and traditions. But I, I, I ... what can I
+do? What is my particular duty? What is the object for which I ought to
+make in spite of every obstacle?"</p>
+
+<p>Twenty times over, he was on the point of exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"My evidence was false, father. I was not there. I was with Suzanne!"</p>
+
+<p>What was the use? It meant dishonouring Suzanne; and the implacable
+march of events would continue just the same. Now that was the only
+thing that mattered. Every individual suffering, every attack of
+conscience, every theory, all vanished before the tremendous catastrophe
+with which humanity was threatened and before the task that devolved
+upon men like himself, men emancipated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> from the past and free to act in
+accordance with a new conception of duty.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon, they heard at the offices of the <i>&Eacute;claireur</i> that a
+bomb had burst behind the German ambassador's motor-car in Paris. In the
+Latin Quarter, the ferment was at its height. Two Germans had been
+roughly handled and a Russian, accused of spying, had been knocked down.
+There had been free fights at Lyons, Toulouse and Bordeaux.</p>
+
+<p>Similar disorders had taken place in Berlin and in the other big towns
+of the German Empire. The military party was directing the movement.</p>
+
+<p>Lastly, at six o'clock, it was announced as certain that Germany was
+mobilizing three army-corps.</p>
+
+<p>A tragic evening was spent at the Old Mill. Suzanne arrived from
+B&ouml;rsweilen without having been allowed to see her father and added to
+the general distress by her sobs and lamentations. Morestal and
+Philippe, silent and fever-eyed, seemed to avoid each other. Marthe, who
+suspected her husband's anguish, kept her eyes fixed upon him, as though
+she feared some inconsiderate act on his part. And the same dread seemed
+to trouble Mme. Morestal, for she warned Philippe, time after time:</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you do, no arguments with your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>father. He is not well. All
+this business upsets him quite enough as it is. A quarrel between the
+two of you would be terrible."</p>
+
+<p>And this also, the idea of this illness of which he did not know the
+exact nature, but to which his heated imagination lent an added
+importance, this also tortured Philippe.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>They all rose on the Sunday morning with the certainty that the news of
+war would reach them in the course of the day; and old Morestal was on
+the point of leaving for Saint-&Eacute;lophe, to make the necessary
+arrangements in case of an alarm, when a ring of the telephone stopped
+him. It was the sub-prefect at Noirmont, who conveyed a fresh order to
+him from the prefecture. The two Morestals were to be at the
+Butte-aux-Loups at twelve o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, a telegram that appeared at the top of the front page of
+the <i>&Eacute;claireur des Vosges</i> told them the meaning of this third summons:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"The German ambassador called on the prime minister at ten o'clock
+yesterday, Saturday, evening. After a long conversation, when on
+the point of concluding an interview that seemed unable to lead to
+any result, the ambassador received by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>express a personal note
+from the emperor, which he at once handed to the prime minister. In
+this note, the emperor proposed a renewed examination of the
+affair, for which purpose he would delegate the Governor of
+Alsace-Lorraine, with instructions to check the report of the
+police. An understanding was at once arrived at on this basis; and
+the French government has appointed a member of the cabinet, M. Le
+Corbier, under-secretary of state for home affairs, to act as its
+representative. It is possible that an interview may take place
+between these two prominent personages."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And the newspaper added:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"This intervention on the part of the emperor is a proof of his
+peaceful intentions, but it can hardly be said to alter the
+situation. If France be in the wrong&mdash;and it were almost to be
+hoped that she may be&mdash;then France will yield. But, if it be once
+more proved on our side that the arrest took place on French soil
+and if Germany refuse to yield, what will happen then?"</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIA" id="CHAPTER_VIA"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BUTTE-AUX-LOUPS</h3>
+
+<p>Whatever might be the eventual outcome of this last effort, it was a
+respite granted to the two nations. It gave a gleam of hope, it left a
+loop-hole, a chance of an arrangement.</p>
+
+<p>And old Morestal, seized with fresh confidence and already triumphant,
+rejoiced, as he could not fail to do:</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course," he concluded, "it will all be settled! Didn't I tell
+you so from the beginning, Philippe? It only wanted a little
+firmness.... We have spoken clearly; and, at once, under a show of
+conciliation which will deceive no one, the enemy forms a plan of
+retreat. For, mark you, that's all that it means...."</p>
+
+<p>And, as he continued to read the paper, he exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, just so!... I understand!... Listen, Philippe, to this little
+telegram, which sounds like nothing at all: 'England has recalled her
+squadrons from foreign waters and is concentrating them in the Channel
+and in the North Sea.' Aha, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> solves the mystery! They have
+reflected ... and reflection is the mother of wisdom.... And here,
+Philippe, this other telegram, which is worth noting: 'Three hundred
+French aviators, from every part of France, have responded to the
+rousing appeal issued by Captain L&eacute;riot of the territorials, the hero of
+the Channel crossing. They will all be at Ch&acirc;lons camp on Tuesday, with
+their aeroplanes!'... Ha, what do you say to that, my boy? On the one
+side, the British fleet.... On the other side, our air fleet.... Wipe
+your pretty eyes, my sweet Suzanne, and get supper ready this evening
+for Papa Joranc&eacute;! Ah, this time, mother, we'll drink champagne!"</p>
+
+<p>His gaiety sounded a little forced and found no echo in his hearers.
+Philippe remained silent, with his forehead streaked with a wrinkle
+which Marthe knew well. From his appearance, from the tired look of his
+eyelids, she felt certain that he had sat up all night, examining the
+position from every point of view and seeking the best road to follow.
+Had he taken a resolution? And, if so, which? He seemed so hard, so
+stern, so close and reticent that she dared not ask him.</p>
+
+<p>After a hastily-served meal, Morestal, on the receipt of a second
+telephonic communication, hurried off to Saint-&Eacute;lophe, where M. Le
+Corbier, the under-secretary of state, was waiting for him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>Philippe, the time of whose summons had been postponed, went to his
+room and locked himself in.</p>
+
+<p>When he came down again, he found Marthe and Suzanne, who had decided to
+go with him. Mme. Morestal took him aside and, for the last time, urged
+him to look after his father.</p>
+
+<p>The three of them walked away to the Col du Diable. A lowering sky,
+heavy with clouds, hung over the mountain-tops; but the weather was mild
+and the swards, studded with trees, still wore a look of summer.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, to break the silence, said:</p>
+
+<p>"There is something soft and peaceful about the air to-day. That's a
+good sign. It will influence the people who are conducting the enquiry.
+For everything depends upon their humour, their impression, the state of
+their nerves, does it not, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "everything depends on them."</p>
+
+<p>She continued:</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think that they will ask you any questions. Your evidence is of
+such little importance. You see, the papers hardly mention it....
+Except, of course, in so far as Dourlowski is concerned.... As for him,
+they haven't found him yet...."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe did not reply. Had he as much as heard? With short movements of
+his stick, he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> striking the heads off the flowers that lined the
+road: harebells, wild thyme, gentians, angelica. Marthe remembered that
+this was a trick which he used to condemn in his sons.</p>
+
+<p>Before coming to the pass, the road narrowed into a path that wound
+through the woods, clinging to the roots of the fir-trees. They climbed
+it one behind the other. Marthe was in front of Philippe and Suzanne.
+Half-way up, the path made a sudden bend. When Marthe was out of sight,
+Philippe felt Suzanne's hand squeeze his and hold him back.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped. She nimbly pulled herself up to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe, you are sad.... It's not about me, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he confessed, frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it," she said, without bitterness. "So much has happened these
+last three days!... I no longer count with you."</p>
+
+<p>He made no attempt at protest, for it was true. He thought of her
+sometimes, but in a casual way, as of a woman whom one loves, whom one
+covets, but whom one has no time to think about. He did not even analyze
+his feelings. They were mixed up with all the other troubles that overwhelmed him.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never forget you, Suzanne," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"I know, Philippe. And I neither, I shall never forget you.... Only, I
+wanted to tell you this, which will give you a little happiness:
+Philippe, I give you my promise that I will face the life before me ...
+that I will make a fresh start.... What I told you is happening within
+me.... I have more courage now that I ... now that I have that memory to
+support me.... You have given me happiness enough to last me all my
+life.... I shall be what I should not have been ... an honest woman....
+I swear it, Philippe ... and a good wife...."</p>
+
+<p>He understood that she meant to be married and he suffered at the
+thought. But he said to her, gently, after looking at her lips, her bare
+neck, her whole charming, fragrant and tantalizing person:</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Suzanne.... It is the best proof of your love.... I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>She went on to say to him:</p>
+
+<p>"And then, Philippe, you see, I don't want to give my father pain....
+Any one can feel that he has been very unhappy.... And the reason why I
+was afraid, the other morning, that Marthe might discover the truth ... was because of him."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not fear, Suzanne."</p>
+
+<p>"I need not, need I?" she said. "There is no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> danger of it.... And yet,
+this enquiry.... If you were compelled to confess?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Suzanne, how can you think it?"</p>
+
+<p>Their eyes mingled fondly, their hands had not parted. Philippe would
+have liked to speak affectionate words and especially to say how much he
+hoped that she would be happy. But no words rose to his lips save words
+of love; and he would not....</p>
+
+<p>She gave a smile. A tear shone at the tip of her lashes. She stammered:</p>
+
+<p>"I love you.... I shall always love you."</p>
+
+<p>Then she released her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, who had turned back, saw them standing together, motionless.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>When they emerged at the corner of the Albern Path, they saw a group of
+journalists and sightseers gathered behind half-a-dozen gendarmes. The
+whole road was thus guarded, as far as the Saint-&Eacute;lophe rise. And, on
+the right, German gendarmes stood posted at intervals.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the Butte. The Butte is a large round clearing, on almost
+level ground, surrounded by a circle of ancestral trees arranged like
+the colonnade of a temple. The road, a neutral zone, seven feet wide,
+runs through the middle.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>On the west, the French frontier-post, in plain black cast-iron and
+bearing a slab with directions, like a sign-post.</p>
+
+<p>On the east, the German post, in wood painted with a black and white
+spiral and surmounted by an escutcheon with the words, "<i>Deutsches Reich</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Two military tents had been pitched for the double enquiry and were
+separated by a space of fifty or sixty yards. Above each waved the flag
+of its respective country. A soldier was on guard outside either tent: a
+Prussian infantryman, helmet on head, shin-strap buckled; an Alpine
+rifleman, bonneted and gaitered. Each stood with his rifle at the order.</p>
+
+<p>Not far from them, on either side of the clearing, were two little camps
+pitched among the trees: French soldiers, German soldiers. And the
+officers formed two groups.</p>
+
+<p>French and German horizons showed in the mist between the branches.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Marthe, you see," whispered Philippe, whose heart was gripped
+with emotion. "Isn't it terrible?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>But a young man came towards them, carrying under his arm a portfolio
+bulging with papers:</p>
+
+<p>"M. Philippe Morestal, I believe? I am M. de Tr&eacute;bons, attached to the
+department of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>under-secretary of state. M. Le Corbier is talking to
+M. Morestal your father and begs that you will be good enough to wait."</p>
+
+<p>He took him, with Marthe and Suzanne, to the French camp, where they
+found, seated on a bench, Farmer Saboureux and Old Poussi&egrave;re, who had
+likewise been summoned as witnesses. From there, they commanded the
+whole circus of the Butte.</p>
+
+<p>"How pale you look, Philippe!" said Marthe. "Are you ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said. "Please don't worry me."</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour passed. Then the canvas fly that closed the German tent was
+lifted and a number of persons came out.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne gave a stifled cry:</p>
+
+<p>"Papa!... Look ... Oh, my poor father!... I must go and kiss him...."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe held her back and she obeyed, feebly. Joranc&eacute;, besides, had
+disappeared, had been led by two gendarmes to the other camp; and
+Weisslicht the detective and his men were now being shown into the tent.</p>
+
+<p>But the French tent opened, an instant after, to let old Morestal out.
+M. de Tr&eacute;bons was with him and went back with Saboureux and Old
+Poussi&egrave;re. All this coming and going seemed to take place by rule and
+was effected in great silence, interrupted only by the sound of the footsteps.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>Morestal also was very pale. As Philippe put no question to him, Marthe
+asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you satisfied, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we began all over again from the start. I gave all my explanations
+on the spot. My proofs and arguments have made an impression on him. He
+is a serious man and he acts with great prudence."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes, M. de Tr&eacute;bons returned with Saboureux and Old
+Poussi&egrave;re. Farmer Saboureux continued disputing, in a state of great excitement:</p>
+
+<p>"Hope they've finished this time! That makes three of them enquiring
+into me!... What do they want with me, after all? When I keep on telling
+everybody that I was fast asleep.... And Poussi&egrave;re too.... Isn't it so,
+Poussi&egrave;re, you and I saw none of it?"</p>
+
+<p>And, suddenly seizing M. de Tr&eacute;bons by the arm, he said, in a choking voice:</p>
+
+<p>"I say, there's not going to be a war, is there? Ah, no, we can't do
+with that! You can tell your gentry in Paris that we don't want it....
+Oh, no, I've toiled enough as it is! War indeed! Uhlans burning everything!..."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed terrified. His bony old hands clutched M. de Tr&eacute;bons' arm and
+his little eyes glittered with rage.</p>
+
+<p>Old Poussi&egrave;re jerked his head and stammered:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, no!... The Uhlans!... The Uhlans!..."</p>
+
+<p>M. de Tr&eacute;bons released himself gently and made them sit down. Then,
+going up to Marthe:</p>
+
+<p>"M. Le Corbier would be glad to see you, madame, at the same time as M.
+Philippe Morestal. And he also asks M. Morestal to be good enough to come back."</p>
+
+<p>The two Morestals and Marthe walked away, leaving Suzanne Joranc&eacute; behind.</p>
+
+<p>But, at that moment, a strange thing happened, which, no doubt, had its
+effect on the march of events. From the German tent issued Weisslicht
+and his men, followed by an officer in full uniform, who crossed the
+open space, went up to M. de Tr&eacute;bons and told him that his excellency
+the Statthalter, having completed his enquiries, would feel greatly
+honoured if he could have a short conversation with the under-secretary of state.</p>
+
+<p>M. de Tr&eacute;bons at once informed M. Le Corbier, who, escorted by the
+German officer, walked towards the road, while M. de Tr&eacute;bons showed the
+Morestal family in.</p>
+
+<p>The tent, which was a fairly large one, was furnished with a few chairs
+and a table, on which lay the papers dealing with the case. A page lay
+open bearing Saboureux's clumsy signature and the mark made by Old Poussi&egrave;re.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p><p>The Morestals were sitting down, when a sound of voices struck their
+ears and, through the opening in the fly of the tent, they caught sight
+of a person in a general's uniform, very tall, very thin, looking like a
+bird of prey, but presenting a fine appearance in a long black tunic.
+With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he was striding along the road
+in the company of the under-secretary.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"The Statthalter.... They have already had one meeting, an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>The two men disappeared at the end of the Butte, then returned and, this
+time, doubtless embarrassed by the propinquity of the German officers,
+penetrated a few paces into French territory.</p>
+
+<p>A word, here and there, of the conversation reached the tent. Then the
+two speakers stood still and the Morestals distinctly heard the Statthalter's voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, my conclusion is necessarily different from
+yours, because all the police-officers who took part in the arrest are
+unanimous in declaring that it was effected on German soil."</p>
+
+<p>"Commissary Joranc&eacute; and M. Morestal," objected M. Le Corbier, "state the contrary."</p>
+
+<p>"They are alone in saying so."</p>
+
+<p>"M. Philippe Morestal took the evidence of Private Baufeld."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>"Private Baufeld was a deserter," retorted the Statthalter. "His
+evidence does not count."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Then the German resumed, in terms which he picked
+slowly and carefully:</p>
+
+<p>"Therefore, monsieur le ministre, as there is no outside evidence in
+support of either of the two contradictory versions, I can find no
+argument that would tend to destroy the conclusions to which all the
+German enquiries have led. That is what I shall tell the emperor this evening."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed. M. Le Corbier took off his hat, hesitated a second and then,
+making up his mind:</p>
+
+<p>"One word more, your excellency. Before finally going back to Paris, I
+determined to call the Morestal family for the last time. I will ask
+your excellency if it would be possible for Commissary Joranc&eacute; to be
+present at the interview. I will answer for him on my honour."</p>
+
+<p>The Statthalter appeared embarrassed. The proposal evidently went beyond
+his powers. Nevertheless, he said, decisively:</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have your wish, monsieur le ministre. Commissary Joranc&eacute; is
+here, at your disposal."</p>
+
+<p>He clapped his heels together, raised his hand to his helmet and gave
+the military salute. The interview was ended.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>The German crossed the frontier. M. Le Corbier watched him walk away,
+stood for a moment in thought and then returned to the French tent.</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised to find the Morestals there. But he gave a gesture as
+though, after all, he was rather pleased than otherwise at this accident
+and he asked M. de Tr&eacute;bons:</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, monsieur le ministre."</p>
+
+<p>"Then do not lose a moment, my dear Tr&eacute;bons. You will find my car at the
+bottom of the hill. Go to Saint-&Eacute;lophe, telephone to the prime minister
+and communicate the German reply to him officially. It is urgent. There
+may be immediate measures to be taken ... with regard to the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>He said these last words in a low voice, with his eyes fixed on the two
+Morestals, went out with M. de Tr&eacute;bons and accompanied him as far as the French camp.</p>
+
+<p>A long silence followed upon his disappearance. Philippe, clenching his
+fists, blurted out:</p>
+
+<p>"It's terrible ... it's terrible...."</p>
+
+<p>And turning to his father:</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite sure, I suppose, of what you are swearing?... Of the exact place?..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>Philippe insisted:</p>
+
+<p>"It was at night.... You may have made a mistake...."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I tell you, no," growled Morestal, angrily. "I know what I am
+talking about. You'll end by annoying me."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe tried to interfere:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Philippe.... Your father is accustomed to ..."</p>
+
+<p>But Philippe caught her by the arm and, roughly:</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue ... I won't allow it.... What do you know?... What are
+you meddling for?"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off suddenly, as though ashamed of his anger, and, in a fit of
+weakness and uncertainty, murmured an apology:</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Marthe.... You too, father, forgive me.... Please
+forgive me.... There are situations in which we are bound to pardon one
+another for all the pain that we can give one another."</p>
+
+<p>Judging by the contraction of his features, one would have thought that
+he was on the verge of crying, like a child trying to restrain its tears
+and failing in the effort.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal stared at him in amazement. His wife looked at him aslant and
+felt fear rising within her, as at the approach of a great calamity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>But the tent opened once more. M. Le Corbier entered. Special
+Commissary Joranc&eacute;, who had been brought to the French camp by the
+German gendarmes, was with him.</p>
+
+<p>Joranc&eacute; simply nodded to the Morestals and asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is well," said Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Le Corbier had sat down and was turning over the papers.</p>
+
+<p>With his three-cornered face, ending in a short, peaked beard, his
+clean-shaven upper-lip, his sallow complexion and his black clothes, he
+wore the solemn mien of a Protestant divine. People said of him that, in
+the days of the Revolution, he would have been Robespierre or
+Saint-Just. His eyes, which expressed sympathy and almost affection,
+belied the suggestion. In reality, he was a conscientious man, who owed
+the gravity of his appearance to an excessive sense of duty.</p>
+
+<p>He closed the bundles of papers and sat thinking for some time. His lips
+formed silent syllables. He was obviously composing his speech. And he
+spoke as follows, in a confidential and friendly tone which was
+infinitely perturbing:</p>
+
+<p>"I am going back in an hour. In the train, I shall draw up a report,
+based on these notes and on the respective depositions which you have
+made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> or which you will make to me. At nine o'clock this evening, I
+shall be with the prime minister. At half-past nine, the prime minister
+will speak in the chamber; and he will speak according to the substance
+of my report. This is what I wish you to understand above all things.
+Next, I want you to know the German reply, I want you to realize the
+great, the irretrievable importance of every word which you utter. As
+for me, feeling as I do the full weight of my responsibilities, I wish
+to seek behind those words, beyond yourselves, whether there is not some
+detail unperceived by yourselves which will destroy the appalling truth
+established by your evidence. What I am seeking is&mdash;I tell you so
+frankly&mdash;a doubt on your part, a contradiction. I am seeking it ..."</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated and, sinking his voice, concluded:</p>
+
+<p>"I am almost hoping for it."</p>
+
+<p>A great sense of peace filled the Morestals. Each of them, subduing his
+excitement, suddenly raised himself to the level of the task assigned to
+him and each of them was ready to fulfil it courageously, blindly, in
+the face of every obstacle.</p>
+
+<p>And Le Corbier resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal, here is your deposition. I ask you for the last time to
+affirm the exact, complete truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I affirm it, monsieur le ministre."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>"Still, Weisslicht and his men declare that the arrest took place on
+German soil."</p>
+
+<p>"The upland widens out at this part," said Morestal, "and the road which
+marks the boundary winds.... It is possible for foreigners to make a
+mistake. It is not possible for us, for me. We were arrested on French soil."</p>
+
+<p>"You certify this on your honour?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear it on the heads of my wife and son. I swear it to God."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier turned to the special commissary:</p>
+
+<p>"M. Joranc&eacute;, do you confirm this deposition?"</p>
+
+<p>"I confirm each of my friend Morestal's words in every respect," said
+the commissary. "They express the truth. I swear it on the head of my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"The policemen have taken just as solemn oaths," observed Le Corbier.</p>
+
+<p>"The German policemen's evidence is interested. It helps them to shield
+the fault which they have committed. We have committed no fault. If
+chance had caused us to be arrested on German territory, no power on
+earth would have prevented Morestal and myself from admitting the fact.
+Morestal is free and fears nothing. Well, I, who am a prisoner, fear nothing either."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the view which the French government has adopted," said the
+under-secretary. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>"Moreover, we have additional evidence: yours, M.
+Philippe Morestal. That evidence the government, through an excessive
+feeling of scruple, has not wished to recognize officially. As a matter
+of fact, it appeared to us less firm, more undecided, at the second
+hearing than at the first. But, such as it is, it assumes a peculiar
+value in my eyes, because it corroborates that of the two other
+witnesses. M. Philippe Morestal, do you maintain the terms of your
+deposition, word for word?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe rose, looked at his father, pushed back Marthe, who came
+running up to him, and replied, in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"No, monsieur le ministre."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIA" id="CHAPTER_VIIA"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION</h3>
+
+<p>The conflict was immediate. Between Morestal and Philippe, the duel set
+in at once. The events of the previous days had cleared the way for it:
+at the first word, they stood up to each other like irreconcilable
+adversaries, the father spirited and aggressive, the son anxious and
+sad, but inflexible.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier at once foresaw a scene. He went out of the tent, ordered the
+sentry to stand away, made sure that the group of Germans could not hear
+the sound of the raised voices. Then, after carefully closing the fly,
+he returned to his place.</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad! You are mad!" said Morestal, who had come up to his son. "How dare you?"</p>
+
+<p>And Joranc&eacute; joined in:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Philippe ... this is not serious.... You are not going to
+back out, to withdraw...."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier silenced them and, addressing Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"Explain yourself, monsieur," he said. "I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>Philippe looked at his father again and, slowly, in a voice which he
+strove to render firm as he spoke, answered:</p>
+
+<p>"I say, monsieur le ministre, that certain particulars in my evidence
+are not accurate and that it is my duty to correct them."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, monsieur," said the under-secretary, with some harshness.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe did not hesitate. Facing old Morestal, who was quivering with
+indignation, he began, as though he were in a hurry to get it over:</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, Private Baufeld did not say things that were quite as
+clear as those which I repeated. The words used were obscure and incoherent."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Why, your declarations are precise...."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, when I gave my evidence for the first time before
+the examining-magistrate, I was under the shock of my father's arrest. I
+was under his influence. It seemed to me that the incident would have no
+consequences if the arrest had been effected on German territory; and,
+when relating Private Baufeld's last words, in spite of myself, without
+knowing it, I interpreted them in the sense of my own wishes. Later on,
+I understood my mistake. I am now repairing it."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped. The under-secretary turned over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> his papers, no doubt read
+through Philippe's evidence and asked:</p>
+
+<p>"As far as concerns Private Baufeld, have you nothing to add?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe's legs seemed on the point of giving way beneath him, so much
+so that Le Corbier asked him to sit down.</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed and, mastering himself, said:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have. I have a revelation to make in this respect which is very
+painful to me. My father evidently attached no importance to it; but it seems to me ..."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" cried Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father, I beseech you!" entreated Philippe, folding his hands
+together. "We are not here to quarrel, nor to judge each other, but to
+do our duty. Mine is horrible. Do not discourage me. You shall condemn
+me afterwards, if you see cause."</p>
+
+<p>"I condemn you as it is, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier made an imperious gesture and repeated, in a yet more peremptory tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, M. Philippe Morestal."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe said, bringing the words out very quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, Private Baufeld had relations on this side of the
+frontier. His desertion was prepared, backed up. He knew the safe road
+which he was to take."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>"Through whom did he know it?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe lowered his head and, with half-closed eyes, whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Through my father!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's not true!" shouted old Morestal, purple with rage. "That's not
+true! I prepare ... I!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the paper which I found in Private Baufeld's pocket," said
+Philippe, handing a sheet of note-paper to Le Corbier. "It gives a sort
+of plan of escape, the road which the fugitive is to follow, the exact
+spot at which he is to cross the frontier so as to avoid the watchers."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying? What are you daring to say? A correspondence
+between me and that wretch!"</p>
+
+<p>"The two words, 'Albern Path,' are in your hand-writing, father, and it
+was through the Albern Path that the deserter entered France. The sheet
+is a sheet of your own note-paper."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal gave a bound:</p>
+
+<p>"And you took it from the waste-paper basket, where it lay torn and
+crumpled! You did a thing like that, you, my son! You had the infamy ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then what? Answer!"</p>
+
+<p>"Private Baufeld gave it me before his death."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal was standing opposite Philippe, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> his arms crossed over his
+chest, and, so far from defending himself against his son's accusations,
+seemed rather to be addressing a culprit.</p>
+
+<p>And Philippe looked at him with eyes of anguish. At each blow that he
+struck, at each sentence that he uttered, he detected the mark of a
+wound on his father's face. A vein swelling on the old man's temples
+distressed him beyond measure. He was terrified to see streaks of blood
+mingle with the whites of his eyes. And he feared, at every moment, that
+his father would fall like a tree which the axe has struck to the heart.</p>
+
+<p>The under-secretary, after examining the sheet of paper which Philippe
+had given him, resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"In any case, M. Morestal, these lines were written by you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, monsieur le ministre. I have already stated what the man
+Dourlowski tried to get out of me and the answer which I gave him."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it the first time that the fellow made the attempt?..."</p>
+
+<p>"The first time," said Morestal, after an imperceptible hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Then this paper?... These lines?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Those lines were written by me in the course of the conversation. Upon
+reflection, I threw away the paper. I see now that Dourlowski must have
+picked it up behind my back and used it in order<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> to carry out his plan.
+If the police had discovered it on the deserter, it would have been a
+proof of my guilt. At least, they would have interpreted it in that way
+... as my son does. I hope, monsieur le ministre, that that
+interpretation is not yours."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier sat thinking for a moment or two, consulted the documents and said:</p>
+
+<p>"The two governments have agreed to leave outside the discussion all
+that concerns Private Baufeld's desertion, the part played by the man
+Dourlowski and the accusation of complicity made against the French
+commissary and against yourself, M. Morestal. These are legal questions
+which concern the German courts. The only purpose for which I have been
+delegated is to ascertain whether or not the arrest took place on French
+territory. My instructions are extremely limited. I cannot go beyond
+them. I will ask you, therefore, M. Philippe Morestal, to tell me, or
+rather to confirm to me, what you know on this subject."</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing."</p>
+
+<p>A moment of stupefaction followed. Morestal, utterly bewildered, did not
+even think of protesting. He evidently looked upon his son as mad.</p>
+
+<p>"You know nothing?" said the under-secretary, who did not yet clearly
+see Philippe's object. "All the same, you have declared that you heard
+M.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> Joranc&eacute;'s exclamation, 'We are in France!... They are arresting the
+French commissary!...'"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"What! What! But you were not two hundred yards away...."</p>
+
+<p>"I was nowhere near. I left my father at the Carrefour du Grand-Ch&ecirc;ne
+and I neither saw nor heard what happened after we had parted."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you state the contrary, monsieur?"</p>
+
+<p>"I repeat, monsieur le ministre, when my father returned, I at once
+understood the importance of the first words which we should speak in
+the presence of the examining-magistrate. I thought that, by supporting
+my father's story, I should be helping to prevent trouble. To-day, in
+the face of the inexorable facts, I am reverting to the pure and simple truth."</p>
+
+<p>His replies were clear and unhesitating. There was no doubt that he was
+following a line of conduct which he had marked out in advance and from
+which nothing would make him swerve.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal and Joranc&eacute; listened to him in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe sat silent and motionless, with her eyes glued to her husband's.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier concluded:</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to say that you will not accept your share of the responsibility?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>"I accept the responsibility for all that I have done."</p>
+
+<p>"But you withdraw from the case?"</p>
+
+<p>"In so far as I am concerned, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must cancel your evidence and rely upon the unshaken testimony
+of M. Morestal: is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, what?" cried Morestal. "You don't answer?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a sort of entreaty in the old man's voice, a desperate appeal
+to Philippe's better feelings. His anger almost fell, so great was his
+unhappiness at seeing his son, his boy, a prey to this madness.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that, don't you?" he resumed, gently. "You mean that monsieur
+le ministre can and must abide by my declarations?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Philippe, stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal started:</p>
+
+<p>"No? But why? What reason have you for answering like that? Why should you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, father, though the nature of your declarations has not varied,
+your attitude, during the last three days, proves that you are
+experiencing a certain reticence, a certain hesitation."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you say that?" asked Morestal,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> trembling all over, but as
+yet retaining his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"Your certainty is not absolute."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know? If you make an accusation, you must prove it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not making an accusation. I am trying to state my exact impression."</p>
+
+<p>"Your impression! What is that worth beside the facts? And it is facts
+that I am asserting."</p>
+
+<p>"Facts interpreted by yourself, father, facts of which you cannot be
+sure. No, no, you cannot! Remember, the other morning, Friday morning,
+we came back here and, while you were once more showing me the road
+which you had covered, you said, 'Still, suppose I were mistaken!
+Suppose we had branched off more to the right! Suppose I were mistaken!'"</p>
+
+<p>"That was an exaggeration of scruple! All my acts, on the contrary, all
+my reflections ..."</p>
+
+<p>"There was no need to reflect! There was not even any need to return to
+this road! The fact that you returned to it shows that you were harassed by a doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not doubted for one second."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your
+certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
+within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your
+actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is
+your love for France. You think that France is always in the right
+against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if
+she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave
+your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of
+mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre, to take note of."</p>
+
+<p>"And you," shouted old Morestal, bursting out at last, "I accuse you of
+being impelled by some horrible sentiment against your father, against
+your country, by I can't say what infamous ideas...."</p>
+
+<p>"My ideas are outside the question...."</p>
+
+<p>"Your ideas, which I can guess, are at the back of your conduct and of
+your mental aberration. If I love France too well, you, you are too
+ready to forget your duty to her."</p>
+
+<p>"I love her as well as you do, father," cried Philippe, passionately,
+"and better, perhaps! It is a love that sometimes moves me to tears,
+when I think of what she has been, of what she is, so beautiful, so
+intelligent, so great, so adorable for her charm and her good faith! I
+love her because she is the mother of every lofty idea. I love her
+because her language is the clearest and noblest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> all languages. I
+love her because she is always marching on, regardless of consequences,
+and because she sings as she marches and because she is gay and active
+and alive, always full of hopes and of illusions, and because she is the
+smile on the face of the world.... But I cannot see that she would be
+any the less great or admirable for admitting that one of her officials
+was captured twenty yards to the right of the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should she admit it, if it is not true?" said Morestal.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should she not admit it, if peace should be the outcome?" retorted Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Peace! There's the great word at last!" sneered Morestal. "Peace! You
+too have allowed yourself to be poisoned by the theories of the day!
+Peace at the price of disgrace: that's it, is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peace at the price of an infinitesimal sacrifice of self-esteem."</p>
+
+<p>"That means dishonour."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," Philippe answered, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "It is the
+beauty of a nation to raise itself above those miserable questions. And
+France is worthy of it. You do not know it, father, but since the last
+forty years, since that execrable date, since that accursed war the
+memory of which obsesses your mind and closes your eyes to every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
+reality of life, a new France has come into existence, a France whose
+gaze is fixed upon other truths, a France that longs to shake off the
+evil past, to repudiate all that remains to us of the ancient barbarism
+and to rid herself of the laws of blood and war. She cannot do so yet,
+but she is making for it with all her young ardour and all her growing
+conviction. And twice already, in ten years&mdash;in the heart of Africa,
+face to face with England; on the shores of Morocco, face to face with
+Germany&mdash;twice she has overcome her old barbarous instinct."</p>
+
+<p>"Shameful memories, for which every Frenchman blushes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Glorious memories, of which we should be proud! One day, those will be
+the fairest pages of our time; and those two dates will wipe out the
+execrable date. That is the true revenge! That a nation which has never
+known fear, which has always, at the tragic hours of its history,
+settled its quarrels in the old barbarous fashion, sword in hand, that
+such a nation should have raised itself to so magnificent a conception
+of beauty and civilization, that, I say, is its finest claim to glory!"</p>
+
+<p>"Words! Words! It's the theory of peace at any price; and it is a lie
+that you are advising me to tell."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p><p>"No, it is the possible truth that I ask you to admit, cruel though it
+may be for you to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"But you know the truth," cried Morestal, waving his arms in the air.
+"You've sworn it three times! You've signed it three times with your
+name! You saw and heard the truth on the night of the attack!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know it," said Philippe, in a firm voice. "I was not there. I
+was not present when you were captured and carried off. I did not hear
+M. Joranc&eacute;'s call. I swear it on my honour. I swear it on the heads of
+my children. I was not there."</p>
+
+<p>"Then where were you?" asked Marthe.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIA" id="CHAPTER_VIIIA"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE STAGES TO CALVARY</h3>
+
+<p>The little sentence, so terrible in its conciseness, set up a clear
+issue between the two adversaries.</p>
+
+<p>Carried away by the exuberance of their convictions, they had widened
+the discussion into a sort of oratorical joust in which each fought
+eagerly for the opinions which he held dear. And Le Corbier knew better
+than to interrupt a duel whence he had little doubt that some unexpected
+light would flash, at last, from amid the superfluous words.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe's little sentence evoked that light. Le Corbier, from the
+beginning of the scene, had noticed the young woman's strange attitude,
+her silence, her fevered glances that seemed to probe Philippe
+Morestal's very soul. He understood the full value of the question from
+her accent. No more vain declamations and eloquent theories! It was no
+longer a matter of knowing which of the two, the father or the son,
+thought the more justly and served his country with the greater
+devotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> One thing alone carried weight; and Marthe had stated it in
+undeniable fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe stood dumbfoundered. In the course of his reflections, he had
+foreseen every demand, every supposition, every difficulty, in short,
+all the consequences of the action upon which he had resolved. But how
+could he have foreseen this one, not knowing that Marthe would be
+present at that last and greatest interview? Before Le Corbier, before
+his father, supposing this detail entered their heads, he could invent
+an excuse of some kind. But before Marthe?...</p>
+
+<p>From that moment, he had the terrifying vision of the catastrophe that
+was preparing. A sweat covered his whole body. He ought to have faced
+the danger bravely and piled explanation on explanation at the risk of
+contradicting himself. As it was, he turned red and stammered. And, in
+so doing, he put himself out of court.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal had resumed his seat. Le Corbier was waiting, impassively. Amid
+the great silence, Marthe, now quite pale, speaking in a slow voice,
+which let fall the syllables one by one, said:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, I accuse my husband of perjury and falsehood. It
+is now, when he withdraws his former evidence, that he is sinning
+against the truth, against a truth which he knows ... yes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> he knows it,
+that I declare. By all that he has told me; by all that I know, I swear
+that he never questioned his father's word. And I swear that he was
+present at the attack."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," asked Le Corbier, "why does M. Philippe Morestal act as he is doing now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre," replied Marthe, "my husband is the author of the
+pamphlet entitled, <i>Peace before All</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>The disclosure created a sort of sensation. Le Corbier gave a start. The
+commissary wore an indignant air. As for old Morestal, he tried to stand
+up, staggered and at once fell back in his seat. All his strength had
+left him. His anger gave way before an immense despair. He could not
+have suffered more had he heard that Philippe was dead.</p>
+
+<p>And Marthe repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"My husband is the author of the pamphlet entitled <i>Peace before All</i>!
+For the sake of his opinions, for the sake of consistency with the
+profound, the exalted faith to which his views give rise within him, my
+husband is capable ..."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier suggested:</p>
+
+<p>"Of going to the length of a lie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said. "False evidence can only appear insignificant to him
+beside the great catastrophe which he wishes to avert; and his
+conscience<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> alone dictates his duty to him. Is it true, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>He replied, gravely:</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. In the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed, when
+two nations are at daggers drawn over a wretched question of
+self-esteem, I should not shrink from a lie that appears to me a duty.
+But I have no need to resort to that expedient. I have truth itself on
+my side. I was not there."</p>
+
+<p>"Then where were you?" repeated Marthe.</p>
+
+<p>The little sentence rang out again, pitilessly. But, this time, Marthe
+uttered it in a more hostile tone and with a gesture that underlined all
+its importance. And she at once added, plying him with questions:</p>
+
+<p>"You did not come in until eight o'clock in the morning. Your bed was
+not undone. Consequently, you had not slept at the Old Mill. Where did
+you spend the night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was looking for my father."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not know that your father had been carried off until Private
+Baufeld told you, at five o'clock in the morning. Consequently, it was
+five o'clock in the morning before you began to look for your father."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And, at that moment, you had not yet returned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> to the Old Mill,
+because, I repeat, your bed was not undone."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"And where did you come from? What were you doing from eleven o'clock in
+the evening, when you left your father, until five o'clock in the
+morning, when you heard of his capture?"</p>
+
+<p>The cross-examination, with its unimpeachable logic, left Philippe no
+loop-hole for escape. He felt that he was lost.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment, he was on the point of throwing up the game and exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes, I was there. I heard everything. My father is right. We must
+accept his word...."</p>
+
+<p>This was a display of weakness which a man like Philippe was bound and
+fated to resist. On the other hand, how could he betray Suzanne?</p>
+
+<p>He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to say."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe, suddenly dropping her accusing tone and shaking with anguish,
+rushed up to him and cried:</p>
+
+<p>"You have nothing to say? What do you mean? Oh, Philippe, I entreat you,
+speak!... Confess that you are lying and that you were there ... I
+beseech you.... My mind is full of horrible thoughts.... Things have
+been happening&mdash;I have noticed them&mdash;which obsess me now.... It's not
+true, tell me that it's not true!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><p>He thought that he beheld salvation in this unexpected distress.
+Disarmed, reduced to silence by a sort of confession which he could
+retract at leisure, his wife was making herself his accomplice and
+rescuing him by ceasing to attack him.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be silent," he said, in a tone of command. "Your personal
+grief must make way...."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Be silent, Marthe. We shall have the explanation which you demand. We
+shall have it later. But be silent."</p>
+
+<p>It was a useless piece of blundering. Like all women who love, Marthe
+only suffered the more from this semi-avowal. She fired up in her grief:</p>
+
+<p>"No, Philippe, I will not be silent.... I want to know what your words
+mean.... You have no right to escape by a subterfuge.... I demand an
+immediate explanation, here and now."</p>
+
+<p>She had stood up and, facing her husband, emphasized each of her words
+with a short movement of the hand. Seeing that Philippe made no reply,
+Le Corbier now joined in:</p>
+
+<p>"Mme. Philippe Morestal is right, monsieur. You must explain yourself
+and not so much for her&mdash;that is a matter between yourselves&mdash;as for me,
+for the purpose of the clearness of my enquiry. Ever since we began, you
+have kept to a sort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> programme settled in advance and easily seen
+through. After denying your first depositions, you are trying to
+demolish your own father's evidence. The doubt which I was seeking
+behind your replies you are now endeavouring to create in my mind by
+throwing suspicion upon your father's statements by every means in your
+power. I have the right to ask myself if one of those means is not
+falsehood&mdash;the word is not mine, monsieur, but your wife's&mdash;and if the
+love of your opinions does not take precedence of the love of truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I am telling the truth, monsieur le ministre."</p>
+
+<p>"Then prove it. Are you giving false evidence now? Or was it on the
+former occasions? How am I to know? I require a positive certainty. If I
+can't have that, I shall take no notice of what you say and rely upon
+the evidence of a witness who, at any rate, has never varied."</p>
+
+<p>"My father is mistaken.... My father is a victim of illusions...."</p>
+
+<p>"Until I receive a proof to the contrary, monsieur, your accusations can
+carry no weight with me. They will do so only if you give me an
+undeniable proof of your sincerity. Now there is only one that would
+bear that undeniable character; and you refuse to supply me with it...."</p>
+
+<p>"But ..."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, monsieur," Le Corbier interrupted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> impatiently, "that
+there is no other question at issue. Either you were on the frontier at
+the time of the attack and heard M. Joranc&eacute;'s protests, in which case
+your former evidence and M. Morestal's retain all their importance, or
+else you were not there, in which case it becomes your imperative duty
+to prove to me that you were not there. It is very easy: where were you at that moment?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe had a fit of rebellion and, replying aloud to the thoughts that tortured him:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, no!" he said. "Ah, no!... It's not possible that I should be forced
+to.... Nonsense, it would be monstrous!..."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him as though a malevolent genius had been trying, for four
+days past, to direct events in such a way that he, Philippe, was under
+the terrible necessity of accusing Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"No, a thousand times no!" he repeated, angrily. "There is no power that
+can compel me.... Say that I spent the night walking about, or sleeping
+by the roadside. Say what you please.... But leave me free in my actions and my words."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," said the under-secretary of state, gathering up his
+papers, "the enquiry is at an end and M. Morestal's evidence will serve
+as the basis on which I shall form my conclusions."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," retorted Philippe, beside himself.</p>
+
+<p>He began to walk, almost to run, around the tent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> He was like a wild
+animal seeking an outlet. Was he to throw up the work which he had
+undertaken? Was he, the frail obstacle self-set against the torrent, to
+be vanquished in his turn? Oh, how gladly he would have given his own
+life! He became aware of this, deep down in his inner consciousness. And
+he understood, as it were physically, the sacrifice of those who go to
+their death smiling, when a great idea uplifts them.</p>
+
+<p>But in what respect would death have settled things? He must either
+speak&mdash;and speak against Suzanne: a torture infinitely more exquisite
+than death&mdash;or else resign himself. It was this or that: there was no alternative.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to and fro, as though tormented by the fire that devoured him.
+Was he to fling himself on his knees before Marthe and ask for mercy or
+to fold his hands before Le Corbier? He did not know. His brain was
+bursting. And he had the harrowing feeling that all his efforts were in
+vain and turning against himself.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, your opinion alone matters; and I will attempt
+impossibilities to make that opinion agree with the real facts. I am
+prepared for anything, monsieur le ministre ... on one condition,
+however, that our interview is private. To you and to you alone I can ..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><p>Once more, he found Marthe facing him, Marthe, the unforeseen enemy,
+who seemed to hold him gripped as a prey and who, fierce and pitiless
+and alive to the least attempt at stratagem, would never let him go.</p>
+
+<p>"I have the right to be there!" she cried. "You must explain yourself in
+my presence! Your word will have no value unless I am there.... If not,
+I shall challenge it as a fresh lie. Monsieur le ministre, I put you on
+your guard against a trick...."</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier gave a sign of approval and, addressing Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"What is the use of a private interview, monsieur? Whatever credit I may
+attach to your confidential statements, if I am to believe them frankly
+I must have a check with which only your wife and your father can supply
+me. Unfortunately, after all your contradictory versions, I am entitled to doubt ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre," Philippe hinted, "there are sometimes
+circumstances ... facts that cannot be revealed ... secrets of such a nature ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You lie! You lie!" cried Marthe, maddened by the admission. "It is not
+true. A woman: is that what you mean? No ... no.... Ah, Philippe, I
+beseech you!... Monsieur le ministre, I swear to you that he is lying
+... I swear it to you.... He is keeping up his falsehood to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>bitter
+end. He betray me! He love another woman! You're lying, Philippe, are
+you not? Oh, hush, hush!"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, Philippe felt a hand wringing his arm. Turning round, he saw
+Commissary Joranc&eacute;, with a white, threatening face, and heard him say,
+in a dull voice:</p>
+
+<p>"What did you mean to suggest? Whom are you talking about? Oh, I'll make
+you answer, trust me!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe stared at him in stupefaction. And he also stared at Marthe's
+distorted features. And he was surprised, for he did not think that he
+had spoken words that could arouse their suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>"But you are all mad!" he said. "Come, M. Joranc&eacute;.... Come, Marthe....
+What's the matter? I don't know what you can have understood.... Perhaps
+it's my fault ... I am so tired!"</p>
+
+<p>"Whom have you been talking about?" repeated Joranc&eacute;, shaking with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Confess! Confess!" demanded Marthe, pressing him hard with all her jealous hatred.</p>
+
+<p>And, behind her, Philippe saw old Morestal, huddled in his chair, as
+though unable to recover from the blows that had struck him. That was
+Philippe's first victim. Was he to offer up two more? He started:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"Enough! Enough!... This is all hateful.... There is a terrible
+misunderstanding between us.... And all that I say only makes it
+worse.... We will have an explanation later, I promise you, M.
+Joranc&eacute;.... You also, Marthe, I swear it.... And you will realize your
+mistake. But let us be silent now, please.... We have tortured one
+another long enough."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in so resolute a voice that Joranc&eacute; stood undecided and Marthe
+herself was shaken. Was he stating the truth? Was it simply a
+misunderstanding that divided them?</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier guessed the tragedy and, attacking Philippe in his turn, said:</p>
+
+<p>"So, monsieur, I must look for no enlightenment on the point to which
+you drew my attention? And it is you yourself, is it not, who, by your
+definite attitude, close the discussion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Philippe, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," protested Marthe, returning to the charge with indefatigable
+vigour. "No, it is not finished, monsieur le ministre; it cannot finish
+like this. My husband, whether he meant to or not, has uttered words
+which we have all interpreted in the same sense. If there is a
+misunderstanding, let it be dispelled now. And there is only one person
+who can do so. That person is here. I ask to have that person called in."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know what you mean," stammered Philippe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do, Philippe. You know to whom I refer and all the proofs that
+give me the right to ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, Marthe," commanded Philippe, beside himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Then confess. If not, I swear that ..."</p>
+
+<p>The sight of M. Joranc&eacute; stayed her threat. Unaware of Suzanne's presence
+at the Butte-aux-Loups, Joranc&eacute; had ceased to understand; and his
+suspicions, aroused by Philippe's imprudence, had become gradually
+allayed. At the last moment, when on the point of putting her
+irreparable accusation into words, Marthe hesitated. Her hatred was
+vanquished by the sight of the father's grief.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, just then, a diversion occurred to bring about an armistice,
+as it were, in the midst of the implacable conflict. Le Corbier had
+risen hurriedly from his seat and drawn back the tent-fly. A quick step
+was heard outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, there you are, Tr&eacute;bons!"</p>
+
+<p>And he almost ran to fetch the young man in and plied him with questions:</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak to the prime minister? What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>M. de Tr&eacute;bons entered the tent. But, on catching sight of the Morestal
+family, he turned back:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"Monsieur le ministre, I think it would be better ..."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Tr&eacute;bons. No one here is in the way ... on the contrary....
+Come, what is it? Bad news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very bad news, monsieur le ministre. The French embassy in Berlin has
+been burnt down...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Le Corbier. "Wasn't it guarded?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but the troops were overborne by the crowd."</p>
+
+<p>"Next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Germany is mobilizing all her frontier army-corps."</p>
+
+<p>"But in Paris? What about Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing but riots.... The boulevards are overrun.... At this moment,
+the municipal guards are charging the mob to clear the approaches to the Palais-Bourbon."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do they want, when all is said?"</p>
+
+<p>"War."</p>
+
+<p>The word rang out like a death-knell. After a few seconds, Le Corbier asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"The prime minister is anxiously awaiting your return. 'Don't let him
+lose a minute,' he said. 'His report might spell safety. It is my last
+shot. If it misses fire, I can't answer for what will <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>happen.' And he
+added, 'And, even then, it may be too late.'"</p>
+
+<p>The silence was really excruciating around the table, in the little
+space inside that tent in which the cruelest of tragedies was hurling
+against one another a group of noble souls united by the most loyal
+affection. Each of them forgot his private suffering and thought only of
+the horror that loomed ahead. The sinister word was echoed in all their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier gave a gesture of despair:</p>
+
+<p>"His last shot! Yes, if my report gave him an opportunity of retreating! But ..."</p>
+
+<p>He watched old Morestal, as though he were still expecting a sudden
+retractation. What was the good? Supposing he took it upon himself to
+extenuate the old man's statements, Morestal was the sort of
+uncompromising man who would give him the lie in public. And then the
+government would find itself in an unenviable plight indeed!</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "let fate take its course! We have done our very
+utmost. My dear Tr&eacute;bons, is the motor at the cross-roads?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, monsieur le ministre."</p>
+
+<p>"Please collect the papers; we will go. We have an hour to reach the
+station. It's more than we want."</p>
+
+<p>He picked up his hat, his coat, took a few steps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> to and fro and stopped
+in front of Philippe. Philippe, he half thought, had perhaps not done
+his utmost. Philippe perhaps had still one stage to travel. But how was
+Le Corbier to find out? How was he to fathom that mysterious soul and
+read its insoluble riddle? Le Corbier knew those men endowed with the
+missionary spirit and capable, in furtherance of their cause, of
+admirable devotion, of almost superhuman sacrifice, but also of
+hypocrisy, of craft, sometimes of crime. What was this Philippe
+Morestal's evidence worth? What part exactly was he playing? Had he
+deliberately and falsely given rise to the suspicion of some amorous
+meeting? Or was he really carrying his heroism to the point of telling the truth?</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, thoughtfully, as though in obedience to a new hope, Le Corbier
+went back to his seat, flung his motor-coat on the table, sat down and,
+addressing M. de Tr&eacute;bons:</p>
+
+<p>"One second more.... Leave the papers. And pray bring Mlle. Suzanne
+Joranc&eacute; here."</p>
+
+<p>M. de Tr&eacute;bons left the tent.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Suzanne there?" asked Joranc&eacute;, in an anxious voice. "Was she there
+just now?..."</p>
+
+<p>He received no reply; and he vainly scrutinized the faces, one after the
+other, of those whom he was questioning. During the three or four
+minutes that elapsed, none of the actors in the drama made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> the least
+movement. Morestal remained seated, with his head hanging on his chest.
+Marthe kept her eyes fixed on the opening of the tent. As for Philippe,
+he awaited this additional blow with anguish in his heart. The massacre
+was not ended. Destiny ordained that, following upon his father, upon
+his wife, upon Joranc&eacute;, he himself should sacrifice this fourth victim.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier, who was watching him, was overcome with an involuntary
+feeling of compassion, of sympathy almost. At that moment, Philippe's
+sincerity seemed to him absolute and he felt inclined to abandon the
+test. But distrust carried the day. Absurd though the supposition might
+be, he had an impression that this man was capable of falsely accusing
+the girl in the presence of his wife, of his father and of Joranc&eacute;
+himself. With Suzanne present, falsehood became impossible. The test was
+a cruel one, but, however it was decided, it carried with it the
+unimpeachable certainty without which Le Corbier was unwilling to close his enquiry.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe shook all over. Marthe and Joranc&eacute; rose from their seats. The
+tent-fly was drawn aside. Suzanne entered.</p>
+
+<p>She at once gave a movement of recoil. At the first glance, at the first
+sight of those motionless people, she suspected the danger which her
+feminine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> instinct had already foreseen. And, deathly pale, deprived of
+all her strength, she dared not come forward.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier took her hand and, gently:</p>
+
+<p>"Please be seated, mademoiselle. It is possible that your evidence may
+be of value to us to clear up a few points."</p>
+
+<p>There was only one vacant chair, next to Joranc&eacute;. Suzanne took a few
+steps and looked at her father, whom she had not seen since the evening
+at Saint-&Eacute;lophe. He turned away his head. She sat down trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Then Le Corbier, who was in a hurry to finish the business, walked
+quickly up to Philippe and said:</p>
+
+<p>"It is the last time, monsieur, that I shall apply to you. In a few
+minutes, everything will be irrevocably ended. It depends on your good will...."</p>
+
+<p>But he went no further. Never had he beheld a face ravaged as Philippe's
+was, nor ever so great an expression of strength and energy as showed
+through the chaos of those distorted features. He understood that
+Philippe had resolved to travel the last stage. He waited, without a word.</p>
+
+<p>And indeed, as though he too were eager to reach the terrible goal,
+Philippe spoke and said:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"Monsieur le ministre, if I tell you for certain how I spent my night,
+will my words have an unimpeachable value in your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was almost calm. His eyes had selected a spot in the tent from
+which he no longer dared remove them, for he feared to meet Marthe's
+eyes, or Joranc&eacute;'s, or Suzanne's.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier replied:</p>
+
+<p>"An unimpeachable value."</p>
+
+<p>"Will they tend to lessen the importance of my father's statements?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for I shall have to weigh those statements against the words of a
+man whose perfect sincerity I shall no longer have cause to doubt."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe was silent. His forehead oozed sweat at every pore and he
+staggered like a drunken man on the point of falling.</p>
+
+<p>Le Corbier insisted:</p>
+
+<p>"Speak without scruple, monsieur. There are circumstances in which a man
+must look straight before him and in which the aim to be attained must,
+in a measure, blind him."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe continued:</p>
+
+<p>"And you think, monsieur le ministre, that your report, thus modified,
+may have a decisive influence in Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say so, positively. The prime minister has allowed me to look into
+his secret thoughts. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>Moreover, I know what he is capable of doing. If
+the conclusions of my report give him a little latitude, he will ring up
+the German embassy and mount the tribune in order to bring the chamber,
+to bring the country face to face with the facts as they are. The
+cabinet will fall amid a general outcry, there will be a few riots, but
+we shall have peace ... and peace, as you, monsieur, were saying a
+moment ago, peace without dishonour, at the price of an infinitesimal
+sacrifice of self-esteem, which will make France greater than ever."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... yes ..." said Philippe. "But, if it should be too late? If it
+should no longer be possible to prevent anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"That," said Le Corbier, "is a thing which we cannot foretell.... It
+may, as a matter of fact, be too late...."</p>
+
+<p>This was the hardest thought of all for Philippe. Deep hollows appeared
+in his cheeks. The minutes seemed to age him like long years of
+sickness. The sight of him suggested the faces of the dying martyrs in
+certain primitive pictures. Nothing short of physical pain can thus
+convulse the features of a man's countenance. And he really suffered as
+much as if he were being stretched on the rack and burnt with red-hot
+pincers. Nevertheless, he felt that his mind remained lucid, as must be
+that of the martyrs undergoing torture, and he clearly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>understood that,
+in consequence of a series of inexorable facts, he had, for a few
+moments&mdash;but on the most terrible conditions!&mdash;the power of perhaps ...
+of perhaps saving the world from the great scourge of war.</p>
+
+<p>He stiffened himself and, livid in the face, said:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le ministre, what my wife suspected, what you have already
+guessed, is the exact truth. On Monday night, while the arrest was
+taking place and while the two captives were being carried to Germany, I
+was with Suzanne Joranc&eacute;."</p>
+
+<p>It was as though Joranc&eacute;, standing behind him, had been waiting for the
+accusation as for an attack that must be parried without delay:</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne! My daughter!" he cried, seizing Philippe by the collar of his
+jacket. "What are you saying, you villain? How dare you?"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe had not stirred, remained as though stunned. Old Morestal
+protested indignantly. Philippe whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"I am saying what happened."</p>
+
+<p>"You lie! You lie!" roared Joranc&eacute;. "My daughter, the purest, the most
+honest girl in the world! Why don't you confess that you lie?... Confess
+it!... Confess it!..."</p>
+
+<p>The poor man was choking. The words were caught short in his throat. His
+whole frame seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> to quiver; and his eyes were filled with gleams of
+hatred and murderous longings and anger and, above all, pain, infinite,
+pitiless, human pain.</p>
+
+<p>And he entreated and commanded by turns:</p>
+
+<p>"Confess, confess!... You're lying, aren't you?... It's because of your
+opinions, that's it, because of your opinions!... You want a proof ...
+an alibi ... and so ..."</p>
+
+<p>And, addressing Le Corbier:</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me alone with him, monsieur le ministre.... He will confess to me
+that he is lying, that he is talking like that because he has to ... or
+because he is mad ... who knows? Yes, because he is mad!... How could
+she love you? Why should she? Since when? She, who is your wife's
+friend.... Get out, I know my daughter!... But answer, you villain!...
+Morestal, my friend, make him answer ... make him give his proofs....
+And you, Suzanne, why don't you spit in his face?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned upon Suzanne; and Marthe, rousing herself from her torpor,
+went up to the girl, as he did.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne stood tottering on her feet, with averted gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's this?" roared her father. "Won't you answer either?
+Haven't you a word to answer to that liar?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p><p>She tried to speak, stammered a few confused syllables and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe met her eyes, the eyes of a hunted fawn, a pair of poor eyes
+pleading for help.</p>
+
+<p>"You admit it! You admit it!" shouted Joranc&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>And he made a sudden rush at her; and Philippe, as in a nightmare, saw
+Suzanne flung back, shaken by her father, struck by Marthe, who, she
+too, in an abrupt fit of fury, demanded the useless confession.</p>
+
+<p>It was a horrible and violent scene. Le Corbier and M. de Tr&eacute;bons
+interfered, while Morestal, shaking his fist at Philippe, cried:</p>
+
+<p>"I curse you! You're a criminal! Let her be, Joranc&eacute;. She couldn't help
+it, poor thing. He is the one to blame.... Yes, you, you, my son!... And
+I curse you.... I turn you out...."</p>
+
+<p>The old man pressed his hand to his heart, stammered a few words more,
+begging Joranc&eacute;'s pardon and promising to look after his daughter, then
+turned on his heels and fell against the table, fainting....</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III</h2>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IB" id="CHAPTER_IB"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ARMED VIGIL</h3>
+
+<p>"Ma'am!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? What's the matter?" asked Mme. Morestal, waking with a start.</p>
+
+<p>"It's I, Catherine."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have sent from the town-hall, ma'am.... They are asking for the
+master.... They want instructions.... Victor says the troops are being mobilized...."</p>
+
+<p>The day before, after his fainting-fit at the Butte-aux-Loups, old
+Morestal was carried back to the Old Mill on a litter by the soldiers of
+the detachment. Marthe, who came with him, flung a few words of
+explanation to her mother-in-law and, without paying attention to the
+good woman's lamentations, without even speaking to her of Philippe and
+of what could have become of him, ran to her room and locked herself in.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Borel was hurriedly sent for. He examined the patient, diagnosed
+serious trouble in the region of the heart and refused to give an opinion.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>The house was at sixes and sevens during the evening and all through
+that Sunday night. Catherine and Victor ran to and fro. Mme. Morestal,
+generally so level-headed, but accustomed to bewail her fate on great
+occasions, nursed the sick man and issued a multiplicity of orders.
+Twice she sent the gardener to the chemist at Saint-&Eacute;lophe.</p>
+
+<p>At midnight, the old man was suffering so much that Dr. Borel was called
+in again. He seemed anxious and administered an injection of morphia.</p>
+
+<p>There followed a few hours of comparative calm; and Mme. Morestal,
+although tortured at Philippe's absence and fearing that he might do
+something rash, was able to lie down on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Catherine rushed into the room, at the risk of
+disturbing the patient's rest.</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal ended by bundling her off:</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue, can't you? Don't you see that your master's asleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're mobilizing the troops, ma'am.... It's certain that we shall have war...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't bother us with your war!" growled the good woman, pushing her
+out of the room. "Boil some water for your master and don't waste your
+time talking nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>She herself went to work at once. But all around her was a confused
+noise of murmurs and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>exclamations, coming from the terrace, the garden
+and the house.</p>
+
+<p>Morestal woke up at nine o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Suzanne! Where's Suzanne?" he asked, almost before he opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Suzanne!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes ... why, of course, Suzanne!... I promised her father.... No
+one has a better right to live in this house.... Philippe's not here, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>He raised himself in bed, furious at the mere thought.</p>
+
+<p>"He has not come in," said his wife. "We don't know where he is...."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right! He'd better not come back!... I've turned him out....
+And now I want Suzanne.... She shall nurse me ... she alone, do you understand?..."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Morestal, you surely wouldn't ask ... It's not possible for Suzanne to ..."</p>
+
+<p>But her husband's features were contracted with such a look of anger
+that she dared not protest further:</p>
+
+<p>"As you please," she said. "After all, if you think right...."</p>
+
+<p>She consulted Dr. Borel by telephone. He replied that the patient must
+on no account be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> thwarted. Moreover, he undertook to see the girl, to
+point out to her the duty that called her to the Old Mill and to
+overcome any reluctance on her part.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Borel himself brought Suzanne to the house at about twelve o'clock.
+Red with shame, her eyes swollen with tears, she submitted to Mme.
+Morestal's humiliating reception and took her seat by the old man's bedside.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a sigh of content when he saw her:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I'm glad!... I feel better already.... You won't leave me, will
+you, my little Suzanne?"</p>
+
+<p>And he fell asleep again almost at once, under the action of a fresh
+injection of morphia.</p>
+
+<p>As on the previous evening, the dining-room at the Old Mill remained
+empty. The maid took a light meal on a tray to Mme. Morestal and, next,
+to Marthe. But Marthe did not even answer her knock.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe Morestal had not left her room during the morning; and all day
+she stayed alone, with her door bolted and her shutters closed. She sat
+on the edge of a chair and, bent in two, held her fists to her jaws and
+clenched her teeth so as not to scream aloud. It would have done her
+good to cry; and she sometimes thought that her suffering was about to
+find an outlet in sobbing; but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>relief of tears did not come to
+moisten her eyes. And, stubbornly, viciously, she went over the whole
+pitiful story, recalling Suzanne's stay in Paris, the excursions on
+which Philippe used to take the young girl and from which they both
+returned looking so happy and glad, their meeting at the Old Mill,
+Philippe's departure for Saint-&Eacute;lophe and, the next day, Suzanne's
+strange attitude, her ambiguous questions, her spiteful smile, as of a
+rival endeavouring to hurt the wife and hoping to supplant her. Oh, what
+a cruel business! And how hateful and wicked life, once so sweet, now seemed to her!</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock, driven by hunger, she went down to the dining-room. As
+she came out, after eating a little bread and drinking a glass of water,
+she saw Mme. Morestal going down the front-door steps to meet the
+doctor. She then remembered that her father-in-law was ill and that she
+had not yet seen him. His bedroom was close by. She crossed the passage,
+knocked, heard a voice&mdash;the voice of a nurse, she thought&mdash;say "Come
+in," and opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite her, at a few steps' distance, beside the sleeping man, was Suzanne.</p>
+
+<p>"You! You!" fumed Marthe. "You here!..."</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne began to tremble under her fixed gaze and stammered:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p><p>"It was your father-in-law.... He insisted.... The doctor came ..."</p>
+
+<p>And, with her knees giving way beneath her, she said, over and over again:</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon.... Forgive me ... forgive me.... It was my fault....
+Philippe would never have ..."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe at first listened without stirring. Perhaps she might have been
+just able to restrain herself. But, at the name of Philippe, at the name
+of Philippe uttered by Suzanne, she gave a bound, clutched the girl by
+the throat and flung her back against the table. She quivered with rage
+like an animal that at last holds its foe. She would have liked to
+destroy that body which her husband had clasped in his arms, to tear it,
+bite it, hurt it, hurt it as much as she could.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne gurgled under the onslaught. Then, losing her head, Marthe,
+stiff-fingered, clawed her with her nails on the forehead, on the
+cheeks, on the lips, those moist, red lips which Philippe had kissed.
+Her hatred gained new life with every movement. Blood flowed and mingled
+with Suzanne's tears. Marthe vilified her with abominable words, words
+which she had never spoken before. And, drunk with rage, thrice she spat in her face.</p>
+
+<p>She ran out of the room, turned back, hissed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> parting insult, slammed
+the door and went down the passage, calling:</p>
+
+<p>"Victor! Catherine!"</p>
+
+<p>Once in her room, she pressed the bell-push until the servants came:</p>
+
+<p>"My trunk! Bring it down! And get the carriage ready, Victor, do you
+hear? At once!..."</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal appeared, attracted by the noise. Dr. Borel was with her.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Marthe? What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse to stay here another hour!" retorted Marthe, heedless of the
+presence of the doctor and the servants. "You can choose between Suzanne and me...."</p>
+
+<p>"My husband promised ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. As you choose that woman, I am going."</p>
+
+<p>She opened the drawers of the chest and flung the dresses and linen out
+promiscuously. With an abrupt movement, she pulled the cloth from the
+table. All the knicknacks fell to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Borel tried to argue with her:</p>
+
+<p>"This is all very well, but where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Paris. My boys will come to me there."</p>
+
+<p>"But haven't you seen the papers? The position is growing more serious
+every hour. The frontier-corps are being mobilized. Are you sure of getting through?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>"I am going," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"And suppose you don't reach Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"What about Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders. He understood that nothing mattered to her,
+neither her husband's existence nor the threat of war, and that there
+was no fighting against her despair. Nevertheless, as he went away with
+Mme. Morestal, he said, loud enough for Marthe to hear:</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, don't be uneasy about Philippe. He has been to see me and
+to enquire after his father. He will come back. I promised to let him
+know how things were going...."</p>
+
+<p>When Victor came, at seven o'clock, to say that the carriage was ready,
+Marthe had changed her mind. The thought that Philippe was hanging about
+the neighbourhood, that he might return to the house, that Suzanne and
+he would stay under the same roof and see each other as and when they
+pleased was more than she could bear. She remained, therefore, but
+standing behind her door, with her ears pricked up to catch the first
+sound. When everybody had gone to bed, she went downstairs and hid
+herself, until break of day, in a recess in the entrance-hall. She was
+prepared to spring out at the least creak on the stair, for she felt
+convinced that Suzanne would slip out in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> dark with the object of
+joining Philippe. This time, Marthe would have killed her. And her
+jealousy was so exasperated that she lay in wait, not with fear, but
+with the fierce hope that Suzanne was really going to appear before her.</p>
+
+<p>Fits such as these, which are abnormal in a woman like Marthe, who, at
+ordinary times, obeyed her reason more readily than her instinct, fits
+such as these do not last. Marthe ended by suddenly bursting into sobs.
+After crying for a long time, she went up to her room and, worn out with
+fatigue, got into bed.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>That morning, on the Tuesday, Philippe came to the Old Mill. Mme.
+Morestal was told and hurried down, in a great state of excitement,
+eager to vent her wrath upon her unworthy son. But, at the sight of him
+standing outside on the terrace, she overcame her need of recrimination
+and uttered no reproach, so frightened was she at seeing him look so pale and sad.</p>
+
+<p>She asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been?"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter?" replied Philippe. "I ought not to have come back
+... but I could not keep away, because of father.... I was too much
+upset.... How is he?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>"Dr. Borel won't say anything definite yet."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is your opinion?"</p>
+
+<p>"My opinion? Well, frankly speaking, I am very hopeful. Your father is
+so strong! But, all the same, it was a violent shock...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "that is what alarms me. I have not lived, these last
+two days. How could I possibly go before knowing for certain?..."</p>
+
+<p>She hinted, with a certain feeling of apprehension:</p>
+
+<p>"Then you want to stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... provided he does not know."</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is ... it's like this ... Suzanne is here, in your father's
+room.... He insisted on her coming...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" he said. "Is Suzanne here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where would you have her go? She has no one left. Who knows when
+Joranc&eacute; will be out of prison? And, besides, will he ever forgive her?"</p>
+
+<p>He stood wrapped in thought and asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Has Marthe met her?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was a terrible scene between them. I found Suzanne with her face
+streaming with blood, all over scratches."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the poor things!" he murmured. "The poor things!..."</p>
+
+<p>His head fell; and, presently, she saw that he was weeping.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>As she had no word of consolation to offer him, she turned round and
+walked to the drawing-room, where she shifted the furniture so as to
+have the satisfaction of putting it back in its place. She tried to find
+a pretext to utter her resentment. When Philippe sat down at the table,
+she showed him the newspapers:</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the news is bad."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not the point. The point is that the cabinet has fallen on the
+publication of the under-secretary's report. The whole Chamber rose up in protest."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that report is the one based upon the last enquiry ... of two
+days ago ... at the Butte-aux-Loups.... So you see ..."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe felt a need to justify himself:</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, mother, that there was an unexpected factor in the case.
+Before the sitting of the Chamber, a telegram had been published
+reporting the words spoken by the emperor after hearing the
+Statthalter's explanation."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to one of the papers:</p>
+
+<p>"Here, mother, read this. These are the emperor's own words: 'Our
+conscience is now at ease. We had the might; we have the right. God
+decide the issue! I am ready.' And the Chamber,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> when condemning and
+overthrowing a ministry that was prepared for conciliation, intended to
+reply to words which it looked upon as provocative."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the old lady. "But, all the same, the report made no difference."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what was the good of all your fuss and bothering? It was no use
+doing so much harm, considering that it served no purpose."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe shook his head:</p>
+
+<p>"It had to be. Certain actions must be performed and they should not be
+judged by the consequences which accident thrusts upon them, but by
+those which we expected of them, in all human logic and in all good
+faith."</p>
+
+<p>"Empty phrases!" she said, obstinately. "You ought not to have done
+it.... It was a very useless piece of heroism...."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think that, mother. There was no need to be a hero to act as I
+did. It was enough to be an honest man. No one with the same clear
+vision as myself of what might happen would have hesitated any more than I did."</p>
+
+<p>"So you regret nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand and, sadly:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother, how can you talk like that, you who know me? How can I be
+indifferent to all this break-up around me?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>He spoke the words with such despondency that she received an insight
+into his distress. But her anger with him was too great and especially
+their natures were too different for her to be touched by it. She concluded:</p>
+
+<p>"No matter, my boy, it's all your fault. If you had not listened to
+Suzanne...."</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply. The accusation cut into the most sensitive part of a
+wound which nothing could allay; and he was not the man to seek excuses.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said his mother.</p>
+
+<p>She took him to another room on the second floor, further than the first
+from that which Marthe occupied:</p>
+
+<p>"Victor will bring you your bag and serve your meals in here; that will
+be best. And I will let your wife know."</p>
+
+<p>"Give her this letter, which I got ready for her," he said. "It is only
+asking for an interview, an explanation. She can't refuse."</p>
+
+<p class="center">*<sup>*</sup>*</p>
+
+<p>In this way, in the course of that Tuesday, the Morestal family were
+once more gathered under the same roof; but in what heart-rending
+conditions! And how great was the hatred that now divided those beings
+once united by so warm an affection!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>Philippe felt the disaster in a way that was, so to speak, visible and
+palpable, during these hours in which each of his victims remained
+locked up, as though in a torture-chamber. Nothing could have distracted
+his mind from its obsession, and even the fear of that accursed war
+which he had not been able to avert.</p>
+
+<p>And yet news reached him at every moment, threatening news, like the
+news of a plague that comes nearer and nearer, despite the distance,
+despite the intervening waters.</p>
+
+<p>At lunch-time, it was Victor, who had hardly entered the room with
+Philippe's tray before he exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard of the telegram from England, sir? The British premier
+has declared in parliament that, if war came, he would land a hundred
+thousand men at Brest and Cherbourg. That means an open alliance."</p>
+
+<p>Later on, he heard the gardener's son, Henriot, returning on his bicycle
+from Saint-&Eacute;lophe, shouting to his father and Victor:</p>
+
+<p>"There's a mutiny at Strasburg! They're barricading the streets! They've
+blown up one of the barracks!"</p>
+
+<p>And Victor at once telephoned to the <i>&Eacute;claireur des Vosges</i>, pretending
+that he was doing so on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>behalf of M. Morestal, and came running up to
+Philippe's room:</p>
+
+<p>"M. Philippe, Strasburg is in a state of insurrection.... All the
+peasants of the country around have taken up arms."</p>
+
+<p>And Philippe reflected that there was no hope, that the governments
+would have their hands forced. And he reflected upon it almost calmly.
+His part was played. Nothing interested him now but his personal sorrow,
+the health of his father, the sufferings of Marthe and Suzanne, those
+first victims of the hateful scourge.</p>
+
+<p>At five o'clock, he heard that one of the countries had issued an
+ultimatum against the other. Which of the two countries? And what was
+the purport of the ultimatum? He was unable to learn.</p>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock, the telegrams announced that the new cabinet, chosen
+for the greater part from among the members of the opposition, had moved
+the immediate creation of "a Committee of National Safety, charged to
+take all the necessary measures for the defence of the country in case
+of war." The Chamber had passed the motion through its various stages in
+one sitting and had appointed the Governor of Paris head of the
+Committee of National Safety, with discretionary powers. This implied an
+eventual dictatorship.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>All that Tuesday night, the Old Mill, silent and gloomy within doors,
+was filled with noise and excitement from without, a prey to the fever
+that precedes great catastrophes. Victor, the gardener and the
+gardener's son by turns bicycled at full speed to Saint-&Eacute;lophe, where
+other people were bringing news from the sub-prefecture. The women
+moaned and wailed. At three o'clock in the morning, Philippe
+distinguished the angry voice of Farmer Saboureux.</p>
+
+<p>At daybreak, there was a lull. Philippe, exhausted by so many sleepless
+nights, ended by dozing off and, while still asleep, heard the sound of
+footsteps coming and going over the pebbles in the garden. Then,
+suddenly, pretty late in the morning, he was awakened by a clamour outside.</p>
+
+<p>He sprang out of bed. In front of the steps, Victor leapt from his horse, shouting:</p>
+
+<p>"The ultimatum is rejected. It's war. It's war!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIB" id="CHAPTER_IIB"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH</h3>
+
+<p>Philippe went downstairs as soon as he was dressed. He found all the
+servants gathered in the hall, discussing the news. Victor confirmed it:
+he had come straight from Noirmont.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, the postman had heard from a gendarme that the railway-station
+at the sub-prefecture was occupied by soldiers. He himself, when he left
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe, had seen army telegraphists on duty in the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>These hasty measures fitted in with the rejection of the ultimatum and
+went to prove the imminence of the dreaded catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe could not help saying:</p>
+
+<p>"That means war."</p>
+
+<p>"It's what I've been shouting from the house-tops for the last two
+days!" proclaimed Victor, who seemed greatly excited. "Oughtn't we to
+make preparations, here? At two steps from the frontier?"</p>
+
+<p>But a bell rang. Catherine ran to the drawing-room, where Mme. Morestal appeared:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>"Where were you? I have been looking for you. Hasn't the doctor been?
+Oh, there you are, Philippe! Quick, telephone to the doctor...."</p>
+
+<p>"Is my father ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he
+ought.... It may be the morphia.... You had better telephone."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one
+tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was
+increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air:</p>
+
+<p>"What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away
+and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize ..."</p>
+
+<p>And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round:</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize.... The master's
+quite well again.... Well, then, they should make up their minds!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant.
+"Suppose the enemy invade us?"</p>
+
+<p>They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the
+doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window.</p>
+
+<p>An old woman entered, an old woman who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> employed at the Old Mill as
+a charwoman. She waved her arms about:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest,
+who is with his regiment?... And the other, who is in the reserve?... Is
+it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene.
+"You'll soon see if it's nonsense!... They'll all have to go ... my
+husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans."</p>
+
+<p>She was accompanied by a child of three or four years old and in her
+arms carried another, in swaddling-clothes, who was whimpering.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they'll have to go," said Victor. "And what about me? You'll
+see, they'll call me to the colours, though I'm past the age!... You'll see!..."</p>
+
+<p>"You as well as the rest," grinned the gardener, who now entered in his
+turn. "As long as one can hold a rifle.... But our eldest, Henriot,
+who's sixteen: do you think they'll forget him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, as for him," scolded the mother, "I shall hide him if they try to
+take him from me!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what about the gendarmes?"</p>
+
+<p>All were gesticulating and talking together. And Victor repeated:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"Meantime, we had better be off. Shut up the house and go. That's the
+wisest. We can't remain here like this, at two steps from the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>In his eyes, war represented the disordered flight of the old men and
+the women, running away in herds and pushing before them carts loaded
+with furniture and bedding. And he stamped his foot, resolved upon
+making an immediate move.</p>
+
+<p>But a great hullabaloo arose on the terrace. A little farm-labourer came
+rushing into the drawing-room:</p>
+
+<p>"He's seen some! He's seen some!"</p>
+
+<p>He was running in front of his employer, Farmer Saboureux, who arrived
+like a whirlwind, with his eyes starting out of his head:</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen some! I've seen some! There were five of them! I've seen some!"</p>
+
+<p>"Seen what? Seen what?" said Victor, shaking him. "What have you seen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhlans!"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhlans! Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"As I see you now! There were five of them on horseback! Oh, I knew them
+again ... it wasn't the first time!... Uhlans, I tell you!... They'll burn everything down!"</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal came running up at the noise which he made:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>"Do be quiet! What's the matter with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen some!" yelled Saboureux. "Uhlans! They've gone off to fetch the others."</p>
+
+<p>"Uhlans!" she gasped in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, like last time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, heaven! Is it possible?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw them, I say.... Go and tell monsieur le maire."</p>
+
+<p>She lost her temper:</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him? But he's ill!... And be quiet, you, I've had enough of it....
+Philippe, is the doctor coming?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe put down the telephone:</p>
+
+<p>"The line is engaged by the military, it's not available for private communications."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but this is terrible!" said the old lady. "What's to become of us?"</p>
+
+<p>She thought only of Morestal, confined to his room, and of the
+inconvenience which he would suffer through this state of things.</p>
+
+<p>A bicycle-bell was heard outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" cried the gardener, leaning out of the window on the garden side.
+"There's my boy coming.... How the rascal is growing! And you think,
+mother, that they'll leave him at home to pluck the geese? A sharp lad like that?..."</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds later, the boy was in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>drawing-room. Breathless,
+staggering, he reeled back against the table and blurted out, in a hollow voice:</p>
+
+<p>"It's ... war!..."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe, who retained some hope in spite of everything, flew at him:</p>
+
+<p>"War?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes ... it's declared...."</p>
+
+<p>"By whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't say."</p>
+
+<p>And Saboureux, seized with fresh anger, stuttered:</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!... I said so!... I saw the Uhlans ... there were five of them."</p>
+
+<p>There was a stir among the servants. All rushed to meet a new arrival,
+Gridoux, the official game-keeper, who came prancing along the terrace,
+brandishing a stick. He pushed them aside:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't bother me!... I've a message to give! Where's monsieur le maire?
+He must come at once! They're waiting for him!"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed furious at not finding the Mayor of Saint-&Eacute;lophe there, ready
+to go back with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so loud, not so loud, Gridoux," Mme. Morestal ordered. "You'll wake him up."</p>
+
+<p>"He's got to be woke up. I've been sent from the town-hall.... He's got
+to come at once."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe laid hold of him:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"Stop that noise, I tell you, hang it all! My father is ill."</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't matter. I've got the butcher's cart.... I'll take him with
+me straight away, as he is."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's impossible," moaned Mme. Morestal. "He's in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't matter.... There's orders to be given.... There's a whole
+company of soldiers ... soldiers from the man&oelig;uvres.... The town-hall
+is upside down.... He's the only one to put things right."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Where are his deputies? Arnauld? Walter?"</p>
+
+<p>"They've lost their heads."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's at the town-hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"The parish-priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"A milksop!"</p>
+
+<p>"The parson?"</p>
+
+<p>"An ass! There's only one man who isn't crying like the others.... But
+M. Morestal would never consent.... They're not friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The school-master."</p>
+
+<p>"Let them obey him, then!... The school-master will do!... Let him give
+orders in my husband's name."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>The wish to save Morestal any annoyance gave her a sudden authority.
+And she pushed everybody out, to the stairs, to the hall:</p>
+
+<p>"There, go away, all of you.... Gridoux, go back to the town-hall...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it," said Saboureux, gripping the gamekeeper's arm, "go
+back to Saint-&Eacute;lophe, Gridoux, and send the soldiers to me, eh? Let them
+defend me, hang it all! The Uhlans will burn down everything, my house, my barn!"</p>
+
+<p>They all went out in high excitement. Philippe was able for a long time
+to distinguish Farmer Saboureux's exclamations through the garden
+window. And the picture of all those anxious, noisy people, drunk with
+talk and action, rushing from side to side in obedience to unreasoning
+impulses, that picture suggested to him a vision of the great mad crowds
+which the war was about to let loose like the waves of a sea.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," he said. "It's time to act."</p>
+
+<p>He took a railway-guide from the table and turned up the station at
+Langoux. The new strategic line passed through Langoux, the line which
+follows the Vosges and runs down to Belfort and Switzerland. He found
+that he could reach B&acirc;le and sleep at Zurich that same evening.</p>
+
+<p>He stood up and looked around him, with his heart wrung at the thought
+of going away like that, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>without bidding good-bye to any one. Marthe
+had not answered his letter and remained invisible. His father had
+turned him out and would never forgive him. He must go away by stealth,
+like a malefactor. "Well," he murmured, thinking of the act which he was
+on the point of accomplishing, "it's better so. In any case and in spite
+of everything, I was bound, now that war has been declared, to appear a
+miscreant and a renegade in my father's eyes. Have I the right to rob
+him of the least affectionate word?"</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal came up from the garden and he heard her moaning:</p>
+
+<p>"War! Oh, heaven, war, like last time! And your poor father forced to
+keep his bed! Ah, Philippe, it's the end of all things!"</p>
+
+<p>She shifted a few chairs in their places, wiped the table-cover with her
+apron and, when the drawing-room seemed tidy to her eyes, went to the door:</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he is awake.... What will he want to do, when he hears?... If
+only he keeps quiet! A man of his age ..."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe went up to her, in an instinctive burst of confidence:</p>
+
+<p>"You know I'm going, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>She replied:</p>
+
+<p>"You're going? Well, yes, you are right. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> dare say I shall persuade
+Marthe to come back to you...."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," she declared, "Marthe loves you very much. And then there
+are the children to bring you together. Leave it to me.... The same with
+your father: don't be alarmed.... Everything will smooth down in time
+between the two of you. Go, my boy.... Write to me often...."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you kiss me, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>She kissed him on the forehead, a quick, cold kiss that revealed her
+lingering bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>But, as she was opening the door, she stopped, reflected and said:</p>
+
+<p>"You are going back to Paris, are you not? To your own place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"An idea that came to me, that's all. My head is in such a state,
+because of your father, that I did not think of it before...."</p>
+
+<p>"What idea? Can you tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"About this war.... But, no, as a professor, you're exempt, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>He understood her fears and, as he was unable to reassure her by
+confessing his secret intentions, he did not enlighten her further:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I'm exempt."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>"Still, you spent some time in the reserve?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only at the government offices. And that's where we serve in time of war."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, "that's all right, that's all right!... Else I should
+have been very anxious.... You see, the mere thought that you might be
+fighting ... that you might be wounded ... oh, it would be horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>She drew him to her with a sort of violence that delighted Philippe and
+kissed him as he had longed to be kissed. He was nearly saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you understand, mother darling?... Do you understand what I was
+trying to do, the other day? Thousands and thousands of mothers will be
+made to shed tears.... Great as our private troubles are, they will
+pass. Those which begin to-morrow will never pass. Death is irreparable."</p>
+
+<p>But why waste words? Did not his mother's emotion prove him absolutely right?</p>
+
+<p>They remained for a few moments locked in each other's embrace and the
+old lady's tears fell upon Philippe's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>At last, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going at once, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as I have packed my bag."</p>
+
+<p>"What a hurry you are in! Besides, there's no train yet. No, I want to
+kiss you once more and to make sure that you have all you want. And
+then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> it's impossible for you and Marthe to part like this. I will speak
+to her presently. But I must go to your father first: he may want me...."</p>
+
+<p>He went with her as far as the sick man's room and, as she had taken
+from a cupboard a pile of towels that filled her arms, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Open the door for me, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw his father at the other end of the room, lying lifeless,
+very pale in the face, and Suzanne sitting at the foot of the bed. He
+clearly distinguished the red scratches on her cheeks and chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut the door, Suzanne," said Mme. Morestal, when she was inside.</p>
+
+<p>Suzanne did so. As she approached, she saw Philippe in the dusk of the
+passage. She did not make a movement nor give a start; and she closed
+the door upon him as though he had not been there.</p>
+
+<p>"She too," thought Philippe, "she too will never forgive me, any more
+than my father or Marthe."</p>
+
+<p>And he resolved to go away at once, now that his mother's affection had
+given him a little comfort.</p>
+
+<p>He found Victor at the foot of the garden-steps, indulging in
+lamentations in the midst of the other servants and recommending
+immediate flight:</p>
+
+<p>"We can pack up the plate, the clocks, the valuables in an hour and be
+off.... When the enemy arrive, they will find no one here...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>Philippe called him and asked if it was possible to get a carriage at
+Saint-&Eacute;lophe:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, are you going, sir? You are quite right. But not just yet, are you?
+Presently, I suppose, with Mme. Philippe? I've orders to drive Mme.
+Philippe to Saint-&Eacute;lophe. From there, there's the diligence that goes to Noirmont."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not going in that direction."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, sir? There's only one line to Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"I sha'n't go straight to Paris. I want to take the train at Langoux."</p>
+
+<p>"The new line to Switzerland? But that's an endless journey, sir! It
+goes all the way down to Belfort."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it. How far is it from Saint-&Eacute;lophe to Langoux?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three miles and a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, I shall walk," said Philippe. "Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>He was in a hurry to leave the Old Mill, for he felt that events were
+hastening to a crisis and that, at any moment, he might be prevented
+from carrying out his plan.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, when he turned back, he was passed by Henriot, the
+gardener's son, who was clapping his hands:</p>
+
+<p>"There they are! The soldiers of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>man&oelig;uvring company!... They are
+going to the Col du Diable, at the quick step. We shall see them from
+the terrace."</p>
+
+<p>He was followed by the other servants, by his mother, by his little
+brother, who, like himself, was waving his hands; and they all crossed the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe went to the edge of the terrace. The troops were already
+debouching in good order. They were young soldiers, beardless boys for
+the most part, and looked almost like children amusing themselves by
+marching in file. But he saw an unaccustomed expression of anxiety and
+doubt on their faces. They marched in silence, hanging their heads and
+as though bent by the fatigue of the recent man&oelig;uvres.</p>
+
+<p>A word of command sounded in the rear and was repeated in a sharp voice
+by two non-commissioned officers. There was a momentary undulating
+movement. Then the column proceeded at the double down the slope that
+led to the &Eacute;tang-des-Moines.</p>
+
+<p>And, when the last ranks had filed off below the terrace, two officers
+appeared, followed by a bugler. One of the two sprang briskly from his
+horse, flung the reins to the bugler and ran up the staircase, shouting:</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be with you presently, Fabr&egrave;gues.... Meet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> me in the Col du
+Diable.... Take up your position at Saboureux's Farm."</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the terrace, he raised his hand to his cap:</p>
+
+<p>"Can I see M. Morestal, please?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe stepped forward:</p>
+
+<p>"My father is laid up, captain."</p>
+
+<p>The officer was obviously affected by the news:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" he said. "I was relying on M. Morestal. I have had the pleasure of
+making his acquaintance and he spoke to me of the Old Mill.... I now see
+what he meant. The position is really excellent. But, for the moment,
+monsieur, would you mind?... I know you are on the telephone here and I
+have an urgent message.... Excuse me ... it is such a serious time...."</p>
+
+<p>Philippe took him to the telephone. The officer pressed the button
+impatiently and, as he did not receive a reply at once, turned round:</p>
+
+<p>"Meanwhile, allow me to introduce myself ... Captain Daspry.... I met
+your father in connection with a rather funny incident, the slaughter of
+Farmer Saboureux's fowls.... Hullo! Hullo! Gad, how difficult it is to
+get put on!... Hullo! Hullo!... I even shocked M. Morestal by refusing
+to punish the culprit, one Duvauchel, an incorrigible
+anti-militarist.... An excuse like that would just have served the beggar's turn...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>He had a rather vulgar type of face and a complexion that was too red;
+but his frank eyes and his gaiety of manner made him exceedingly
+attractive. He began to laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"To show his gratitude, Duvauchel promised me, this morning, to turn his
+back on the enemy, at the first shot, and to desert.... He has a
+chauffeur's place reserved for him in Switzerland.... And, as Duvauchel
+says, 'There's nothing like a French greaser.'... Hullo!... Ah, at
+last!... Hullo! Captain Daspry speaking.... I want the military post at
+Noirmont.... Yes, at once, please.... Hullo!... Is that Noirmont? The
+military post? I want Major Dutreuil.... Switch me on to him.... It's urgent."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Daspry ceased. Instinctively, Philippe took up the other receiver:</p>
+
+<p>"May I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly!..."</p>
+
+<p>And Philippe heard the following dialogue, with its swift and anxious
+questions and answers:</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Daspry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, major."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the cyclists catch you up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Which cyclists?"</p>
+
+<p>"I sent three after you."</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen nothing of them so far. I'm at Morestal's."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p><p>"The Old Mill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, major ... I wrote to you about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it, Daspry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uhlans have been seen in the Col du Diable."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. The B&ouml;rsweiler cavalry are on the march."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"They will cross the frontier in an hour from now, supported by two
+regiments of infantry."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I sent my cyclists to tell you. Get to the Col du Diable as
+fast as you can."</p>
+
+<p>"My men are there, major. As soon as the enemy arrives, we will fall
+back, keeping in touch with them as we do so."</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? But I can't do otherwise, I have only my company."</p>
+
+<p>"You must stand your ground, Daspry. You must stand your ground for two
+hours and a half or three hours. My battalion has just left barracks.
+The 28th are following us by forced marches. We shall be at the frontier
+by two o'clock in the afternoon. You must stand your ground."</p>
+
+<p>"But I say, major!"</p>
+
+<p>"You must stand your ground, Daspry."</p>
+
+<p>With a mechanical movement, the officer drew himself up, brought his
+heels together and replied:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"We shall stand our ground, major."</p>
+
+<p>He replaced the receiver and thought for a few minutes. Then he said, with a smile:</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, that's a nice beginning! Two hundred men against some
+thousands ... for three hours! If one of the 4th company remains alive,
+he'll be a lucky man...."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's madness!" Philippe protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, the Alpine Rifles and the 28th of the line are on their way;
+and Dornat's division is certainly behind them. If they arrive too late,
+if the ridges of the Vosges are taken, if the frontier is crossed, if
+the Saint-&Eacute;lophe valley is occupied and all this on the very day on
+which war is declared, you can imagine the consternation which this
+first check will produce all over France. If, on the other hand, a
+handful of men sacrifice themselves ... and <i>succeed</i>, the moral effect
+will be incalculable. I shall stand my ground for three hours, monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>The words were spoken simply, with the profound conviction of a man who
+realizes the full importance of his act. He was already on his way down
+the stone steps. Saluting Philippe, he added:</p>
+
+<p>"You can congratulate M. Morestal, monsieur. He is a far-seeing
+Frenchman. He foresaw everything that is happening. Let us hope that it is not too late."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p><p>He leapt into the saddle, spurred his horse and set off at a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe followed him with his eyes as far as the &Eacute;tang-des-Moines. When
+the officer had disappeared behind a dip in the ground, he gave way to
+an angry movement and muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"Play-acting!"</p>
+
+<p>However, he turned the telescope on the Col du Diable and saw soldiers
+all around Saboureux's Farm, running, scrambling up the rocks on every
+side with the agility of young goats. He reflected that they had
+forgotten their weariness and seemed to be diverting themselves with an
+exercise to which each contributed his own effort, his individual
+tactics and his qualities of self-reliance and initiative.</p>
+
+<p>He stood pensive for a few minutes. But time was pressing. He called
+Victor and went up to his room:</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, my bag."</p>
+
+<p>They stuffed the papers and manuscripts into it promiscuously, together
+with a little linen and the toilet-articles. The bag was strapped up.
+Philippe seized it:</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Victor. Tell my mother I sent her my love."</p>
+
+<p>He crossed the landing. But some one darted out of an adjacent room. It
+was Marthe. She barred his way:</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" she asked.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIB" id="CHAPTER_IIIB"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>IDEAS AND FACTS</h3>
+
+<p>Marthe, who had kept her room since the day before, but remained
+attentive to all that was happening at the Old Mill, had, through her
+open door and window, heard and seen the hubbub, the fuss made by the
+servants, all the mad fluster of a house that feels itself threatened by
+an approaching cyclone.</p>
+
+<p>She had overcome her fit of anger and hatred, was now mistress of
+herself and was no longer frightened of a possible meeting between
+Philippe and Suzanne. Another torment obsessed her. What did her husband
+mean to do? Brought face to face with an eventuality which he had often
+contemplated, what line of conduct would he pursue?</p>
+
+<p>And it was he that she was watching. Before she went away, she wished to
+know. She overheard his first conversation with Victor. She saw his
+meeting with Captain Daspry from a distance. She saw him go to his room.
+She saw him come out again. And, in spite of herself, although urged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> by
+a very definite feeling, she stood up before him like an obstacle:</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe did not lose countenance. He replied:</p>
+
+<p>"What interest can that have for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come," she said, "we have to speak to each other.... Come in here."</p>
+
+<p>She took him into her room, shut the door and repeated, in a masterful tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>He replied, with the same decision:</p>
+
+<p>"I am going away."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Noirmont."</p>
+
+<p>"To take which train?"</p>
+
+<p>"The train to Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not true," she said, vehemently. "You are not going to Paris.
+You are going to Langoux, to take the train to Belfort."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so, but I shall be in Paris to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not true! You do not mean to stop at Belfort. You will go on to
+B&acirc;le, to Switzerland. And, if you go to Switzerland, it will not be for
+a day, it will be for months ... for your life!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what then?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>"You intend to desert, Philippe."</p>
+
+<p>He did not speak. And his silence dumbfoundered her. Violent as was the
+certainty that filled and angered her, Marthe was stupefied when he made no protest.</p>
+
+<p>She stammered:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible? You really intend to desert?"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe grew irritable:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what has it to do with you? You had a letter from me yesterday,
+offering you an explanation. You have not even troubled to reply! Very
+well! I have done you an irreparable wrong. Our whole married life is
+shattered by my fault. Your attitude up to the present shows me that you
+never mean to forgive me.... Then what right have you to call me to
+account for what I do?"</p>
+
+<p>She repeated, in a low voice, with fixed eyes:</p>
+
+<p>"You intend to desert...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it really credible? I knew your ideas against war ... all the ideas
+in your books ... which agree with my own.... But I never thought of
+this.... You never spoke to me of it.... And then, no ... I could never
+have believed it...."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have to believe it, for all that, Marthe."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the door. Once again she stood up in front of him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"Let me pass," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me ... Philippe...."</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse to listen. This is not the time for quarrelling. I have made
+up my mind to go. I will go. It is not a rash impulse. It is a decision
+taken silently and calmly. Let me pass."</p>
+
+<p>He tried to clear the door. She pushed him back, suddenly seized with an
+energy which became all the fiercer as she felt her husband to be more
+inflexible. She had only a few minutes; and that was what frightened
+her. In those few minutes, by means of phrases, poor phrases flung out
+at random, she had to win the battle and to win it against a foe with
+whose mettle and obstinacy she was well acquainted.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me pass," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, no, no, no!" she cried. "You shall not desert! No, you
+shall not do that infamous thing! There are things that one can't do....
+This thing, Philippe, is monstrous!... Listen, Philippe, listen while I tell you...."</p>
+
+<p>She went up to him and, under her breath:</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Philippe ... listen to this confession.... Philippe, you know
+what you did on Sunday, your cruelty to your father, to Suzanne, to all
+of us: well, yes, I understood it.... I suffered the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> pangs of death, I
+suffered more than any of the others.... Each word that you spoke burnt
+into me like fire.... But, all the same, Philippe, I understood.... You
+had to sacrifice us to the cause of peace. It was your right, it was
+your duty to victimize us all in order that you might save a whole
+nation.... But what you now propose to do.... Oh, the shame of it!...
+Listen, if you did that ... I should think of you as one thinks of ... I
+don't know what ... as one thinks of the most contemptible, the most revolting ..."</p>
+
+<p>Shrugging his shoulders impatiently, he interrupted her:</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help it if you do not understand. It is my right ... and my duty also...."</p>
+
+<p>"Your duty is to join your regiment, now that war is declared, and to
+fight, yes, to fight for France, like every other Frenchman ... like the
+first peasant that comes along, who may tremble with all his poor human
+flesh, it is true, and whose heart sinks within him and whose stomach
+turns cold, but who believes that his duty lies in being there ... and
+who goes ahead, come what may! March on, as he does, Philippe! I have
+accepted all your opinions, I have shared them and backed them.... If
+there is to be an end of our union, at least let me address this last
+entreaty to you: join your regiment!... Your place is over there...."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p><p>"My place is anywhere except where men commit the odious act of
+killing," exclaimed Philippe, who had listened to her in spite of
+himself and who now suddenly collected himself. "My place is with my
+friends. They trust me and I trust them. They are the men whom I must join."</p>
+
+<p>"Where? In Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. We swore, at the first signal, to meet at Zurich. From there, we
+shall issue a manifesto calling upon all the thinkers and all the men of
+independent views in Germany and France."</p>
+
+<p>"But no one will answer your appeal!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind! The appeal will have gone forth. The world will have heard
+the protest of a few free men, professors like myself, tutors, writers,
+men who reflect, men who act in accordance with their convictions, and
+not like animals led to the slaughter."</p>
+
+<p>"You must defend your country," said Marthe, seeking to gain time, in
+the hope that something would come to her assistance.</p>
+
+<p>"I must defend my ideas!" declared Philippe. "If my country chooses to
+commit an act of folly, that is no reason why I should follow her. What
+nonsense it is, these two great nations, the most civilized in the
+world, going to war because they can't agree about the arrest of a petty
+official, or because one of them wants to eat up Morocco and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> the other
+is incensed at not being invited to the banquet! And, for that, they are
+going to fly at each other's throats, like wild beasts! To scatter
+mourning and misery on every side! No, I refuse to take part in it!
+These hands, Marthe, these hands shall not kill! I have brothers in
+Germany as well as France. I have no enmity against them. I will not kill them."</p>
+
+<p>She pretended to listen to his arguments with attention, knowing that,
+in this way, she would detain him a little longer. And she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, your German brothers, whether they feel enmity or not, you may be
+sure that they will march against France! Is not your love for her the greater?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I love her, but just for the very reason that she is the most
+generous and noble of countries, that in her alone the idea of revolt
+against the law of blood and war can take root and sprout and blossom."</p>
+
+<p>"You will be treated as a coward."</p>
+
+<p>"To-day, perhaps ... but, in ten years, in twenty years, we shall be
+treated as heroes. Our names will be quoted as the names of the
+benefactors of humanity. And it will be France again that shall have had
+that honour ... through us! Through me!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p><p>"But your name will be reviled during your lifetime."</p>
+
+<p>"Reviled by those whom I despise, by those who have the cast of mind of
+that captain&mdash;though he's one of the best of them&mdash;who laughs and jokes
+when he is sent to certain death, he and his company."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe answered indignantly:</p>
+
+<p>"It's the laughter of a Frenchman, Philippe, of a Frenchman hiding his
+anguish under a little light chaff. A glorious laughter, which forms the
+pride of our race!"</p>
+
+<p>"One does not laugh in the presence of the death of others."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Philippe, when it is to hide the danger from them and to keep all
+the horror and all the terror for one's self alone.... Listen, Philippe!..."</p>
+
+<p>The sound of firing came from the distance, on the other side of the
+house. For some seconds, there was an uninterrupted crackle of musketry;
+then it came at rarer intervals; and, presently, there was no sound at all.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"The first shot fired in the war, Philippe.... They are fighting on the
+frontier.... It's your country they are defending.... France is in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>danger.... Oh, doesn't your heart quiver like the heart of a son? Don't
+you feel the wounds they are giving her ... the wounds they intend to give her?..."</p>
+
+<p>He wore his attitude of suffering, keeping his arms crossed stiffly over
+his chest and half-closing his eyes. He answered, sorrowfully:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I feel those wounds.... But why is she fighting? For what mad
+love of glory? Is she not intoxicated with successes and conquests?
+Remember our journey through Europe.... Wherever we went, we found
+traces of her passage: cemeteries and charnel-houses to bear witness
+that she was the great victress. Isn't that enough of conquests and triumphs?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, fool that you are," cried Marthe, "she is not trying to conquer!
+She is defending herself! Picture this vision, for a moment: France
+invaded once more ... France dismembered ... France wiped from the face
+of the earth...."</p>
+
+<p>"But no, no," he said, with a gesture of protest, "there is no question of that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is, there is a question of that: it's a question of life or
+death to her.... And you, you are deserting!"</p>
+
+<p>Philippe did not stir. Marthe felt that he was, if not shaken, at least
+anxious, uneasy. But, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>suddenly, he uncrossed his arms and, striking the
+table with his fist:</p>
+
+<p>"I must! I must! I promised to!... And I was right to promise! And I
+will keep my oath! What you call deserting is fighting, but fighting the
+real fight! I too am going to wage war, but it will be the war of
+independence and brains; and my comrades in heroism are waiting for me.
+There, Marthe, I won't listen to you any longer!"</p>
+
+<p>She glued her back to the door, with her arms outstretched:</p>
+
+<p>"And the children! The children whom you are abandoning!"</p>
+
+<p>"You will send them to me later."</p>
+
+<p>She raised her hand:</p>
+
+<p>"Never, I swear it on their heads, never shall you set eyes on them
+again! The sons of a deserter!... They will disown you!"</p>
+
+<p>"They will love me, if they understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I will teach them not to understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"If they do not understand me, it is I who will disown them. So much the
+worse for them!"</p>
+
+<p>He took her by the shoulders and tried to push her away. And, when
+Marthe resisted, he jostled her, exasperated by the fear of the
+unforeseen obstacle that might spring up, the arrival of his mother,
+perhaps the apparition of old Morestal himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>Marthe weakened. He at once seized her wrist and pulled at the door.
+But, with one last effort, she thrust back her husband and, panting, in despair:</p>
+
+<p>"One word! One word more!" she implored. "Listen, Philippe, don't do
+this thing.... And, if you do not do it, well, I think I could.... Oh,
+it is horrible to coerce me like this!... Still, I won't have you go....
+Listen, Philippe. You know my pride, the bitterness of my feelings and
+all that I have suffered, all that I am suffering because of Suzanne.
+Well, I will forget everything. I offer not only to forgive, but to
+forget. Never a single word shall remind you of the past ... never an
+allusion ... I swear it! But don't desert, Philippe, I entreat you, don't do that!"</p>
+
+<p>She hung on to his clothes and pressed herself against him, stammering:</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't do that.... Do not inflict that disgrace upon your children!
+The sons of a deserter!... Oh, I entreat you, Philippe, stay! We will go
+away together ... and we will begin life again as it was before...."</p>
+
+<p>She dragged herself at his feet, humble and supplicating, and she
+received the terrible impression that her words were of no avail. She
+was encountering a rival idea, against which all her strength was
+shattered. Philippe did not hear her. No feeling of pity even turned him towards her.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>Calmly, with an irresistible movement, he clasped Marthe's wrists,
+gathered them in one of his hands, opened the door with the other and,
+flinging his wife from him, fled.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe was seized with a feeling akin to despair. However, the bag was
+still there and she believed that he would come back to fetch it. Then,
+realizing her mistake, she suddenly rose and started to run:</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Like him, she was thinking of some outside interference, of old
+Morestal, whom the outcries might attract and whom Philippe would find on his path.</p>
+
+<p>"Philippe! Philippe!"</p>
+
+<p>She became scared, not knowing where to look for him. There was nobody
+in the garden. She returned to the drawing-room, for she seemed to hear
+a sound of voices. And in fact she saw a sergeant and a private soldier
+hurriedly crossing the terrace, with the gardener's son leading the way.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow me!" the brat commanded. "We'll go up to the roof.... You can
+see the whole valley from there.... Ah, the telescope!..."</p>
+
+<p>He caught up the instrument as he passed.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe rushed at them:</p>
+
+<p>"What's happening?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p><p>"Impossible to hold out over there," said the sergeant. "There are too
+many of them.... We're falling back...."</p>
+
+<p>"But, in that case, <i>they</i> will be coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, they're coming, right enough!..."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe went out on the terrace. A swarm of soldiers came running up the staircase.</p>
+
+<p>She saw Philippe in a corner. He was speaking to the men:</p>
+
+<p>"Are they coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Have they crossed the frontier?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not yet."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to his wife and said to her, as a piece of good news:</p>
+
+<p>"They have not crossed the frontier yet."</p>
+
+<p>And he went to meet another group of soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>Then Marthe believed that fate had sent her the aid for which she was
+praying. She could now do nothing more but trust to events.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVB" id="CHAPTER_IVB"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SACRED SOIL</h3>
+
+<p>"Bugler!... Sound the rally ... at the double ... and quietly."</p>
+
+<p>It was Captain Daspry who now arrived, with a brisk gait, but with the
+grave and resolute face of a leader who is commanding at a solemn moment.</p>
+
+<p>He said to Philippe:</p>
+
+<p>"Is M. Morestal still unwell?"</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal ran out from the house:</p>
+
+<p>"My husband is asleep.... He is very tired.... The morphia.... But, if
+there is anything you want, I can take his place. I know his intentions, his preparations."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall attempt the impossible," said the officer. And, addressing his
+lieutenant, he added, "It would have been madness to stay over there,
+wouldn't it, Fabr&egrave;gues? It's not a question of demolishing a few Uhlans,
+as we did, but of standing our ground against a whole brigade who were
+climbing the other slope.... Oh, it was all planned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> long ago!... And M.
+Morestal is a jolly clever man!..."</p>
+
+<p>The bugle sounded a low call and the Alpine Rifles emerged from every
+side, through the terrace, the garden and the back entrances.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do!" said the officer to the bugler. "They have heard ... and
+I don't want the enemy to hear as well."</p>
+
+<p>He took out his watch:</p>
+
+<p>"Twelve o'clock.... Two hours more, at least.... Oh, if I only had
+twenty-five minutes or half an hour in which to prepare my
+resistance.... But nothing will stop them.... The passage is free...."</p>
+
+<p>He called:</p>
+
+<p>"Fabr&egrave;gues!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, captain."</p>
+
+<p>"All the men in front of the coach-house, on the left of the garden. At
+the back of the coach-house is a hay-loft. Break down the door...."</p>
+
+<p>"Victor, show the gentleman the way," said Mme. Morestal to the servant.
+"Here is the key."</p>
+
+<p>"In the loft," continued the captain, "you will find two hundred bags of
+plaster.... Use them to block up the parapet of this terrace.... Quick
+as you can!... Every minute is worth an hour."</p>
+
+<p>He himself went to the parapet, measured it and counted the balusters.
+In the distance, within <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>rifle-range, the Col du Diable formed a deep
+gash between the great rocks. Saboureux's Farm guarded the entrance. As
+yet, not a single figure of the enemy showed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, twenty minutes!... If I only had twenty minutes!" repeated the
+officer. "The position of the Old Mill is hard to beat. One would stand
+a chance or two ..."</p>
+
+<p>An adjutant and a couple more soldiers appeared at the top of the staircase.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Captain Daspry. "Are they coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"The vanguard was turning the corner of the factory, at five hundred
+yards from the pass," replied the adjutant.</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any more of our men behind you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, captain, there's Duvauchel. He's wounded. They've laid him on a stretcher...."</p>
+
+<p>"Duvauchel!" cried the officer, anxiously. "It's not a serious wound, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word ... I shouldn't like to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Dash it all! But then one saw nothing but that devil in the front
+line.... There was no holding him...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," chuckled the adjutant, "he has a way of his own of deserting in
+the face of the enemy!... He charges straight at them, the beggar!"</p>
+
+<p>But Mme. Morestal grew frightened:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>"A man wounded! I will go and prepare some bandages, get out the
+medicine-chest.... We have all that's wanted.... Will you come, Marthe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mother," replied Marthe, without budging.</p>
+
+<p>She did not remove her eyes from her husband and tried to read on
+Philippe's face the feelings that stirred him. She had first of all seen
+him go back to the drawing-room and cross the entrance-hall, as though
+he were thinking of the way out through the garden, which was still
+free. The sudden arrival of the riflemen pushed him back; and he talked
+to several of them in a low voice and gave them some bread and a flask
+of brandy. Then he returned to the terrace. His inaction, in the midst
+of the constant traffic to and fro, was obviously irksome to him. Twice
+he consulted the drawing-room clock; and Marthe guessed that he was
+thinking of the hour of the train and the time which he would need to
+reach Langoux Station. But she did not alarm herself. Every second was
+weaving bonds around him that tied him down without his knowing it; and
+it seemed to Marthe as though events had no other object than to make
+her husband's departure impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The resistance, meanwhile, was being organized. Swiftly, the riflemen
+brought the bags of plaster,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> which the captain at once ordered to be
+placed between every pair of balusters. Each of the bags was of the
+height and width corresponding with the dimensions of the intervals and
+left an empty space, a loop-hole, on either side. And old Morestal had
+even had the forethought to match the colour of the sacking with that of
+the parapet, so that it might not be suspected in the distance that
+there was a defence behind which sharpshooters lay hidden.</p>
+
+<p>On either side of the terrace, the wall surrounding the garden was the
+object of similar cares. The captain ordered the soldiers to set out
+bags at the foot of the wall so as to make the top accessible from the inside.</p>
+
+<p>But a sound of shouting recalled the captain to the drawing-room. The
+gardener's son came tumbling down from his observatory, yelling:</p>
+
+<p>"Saboureux's Farm is on fire! You can see the smoke! You can see the flames!"</p>
+
+<p>The captain leapt out on the terrace.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke was whirling above the barn. Gleams kindled, faint as yet and
+hesitating. And, suddenly, as though set free, the flames shot up in
+angry spirals. The wind at once beat them down again. The roof of the
+house took fire. And, in a few minutes, it was a violent flare,
+accompanied by the quick blaze of the rotten beams, the dry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> thatch, the
+trusses of hay and straw heaped up by the hundred in the barn and in the sheds.</p>
+
+<p>"To work!" shouted the captain, gleefully. "The Col du Diable is blocked
+by the flames.... They'll last for quite fifteen or twenty minutes ...
+and the enemy have no other road...."</p>
+
+<p>His excitement communicated itself to the men. Not one of them broke
+down beneath the weight of the bags, heavy though these were. The
+captain posted the non-commissioned officers at regular intervals, so
+that his orders could be passed on from the terrace to every end of the property.</p>
+
+<p>Lieutenant Fabr&egrave;gues came up. The materials were beginning to fall short
+and the lofty wall remained inaccessible to the marksmen in several places.</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal behaved like a heroine:</p>
+
+<p>"Take the furniture, captain, the chairs, the tables. Break them up, if
+necessary.... Burn them even.... Do just as if my husband were here."</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal said something about a stock of cartridges," asked the captain.</p>
+
+<p>"In the boxes in the harness-room. Here are the keys."</p>
+
+<p>The men redoubled their activity. The Old Mill was ransacked; and the
+soldiers passed laden with mattresses, sofas, old oak chests, hangings
+also and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> carpets, with which they stopped up the holes and the windows.</p>
+
+<p>"The flames are spreading," said the captain, going to the top of the
+staircase. "There's nothing left of Farmer Saboureux's buildings.... But
+by what miracle ...? Who set the place on fire?..."</p>
+
+<p>"I did."</p>
+
+<p>A peasant stood at the top of the steps, in a scorched blouse, with his
+face all blackened.</p>
+
+<p>"You, Saboureux?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I," growled Saboureux, fiercely. "I had to.... I heard you over
+there: 'If we could only stop them,' says you. 'If I had half an hour to
+spare!'... Well, there's your half an hour for you.... I set fire to the shanty."</p>
+
+<p>"And very nearly roasted me inside it," grinned Old Poussi&egrave;re, who was
+with the farmer. "I was asleep in the straw...."</p>
+
+<p>The captain nodded his head:</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, Farmer Saboureux, but that's a damned sportsmanlike thing
+you've done! I formed a wrong opinion of you. I apologize. May I shake
+you by the hand?"</p>
+
+<p>The peasant put out his hand and then walked away, with his back bent in
+two. He sat down in a corner of the drawing-room. Poussi&egrave;re also huddled
+into a chair, took a piece of bread from his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> pocket, broke it and gave
+half to Saboureux, as though he thought it only natural to share what he
+had with the man who had nothing left.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's Duvauchel, sir!" announced a rifleman. "Here's Duvauchel!"</p>
+
+<p>The staircase was too narrow and they had to bring the stretcher round
+by the garden. The captain ran to meet the wounded man, who made an
+effort to stand on his legs:</p>
+
+<p>"What's up, Duvauchel? Are you hit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I, sir, not I," said the man, whose face was livid and his eyes
+burning with fever. "A cherry-stone tickled my shoulder, by way of a
+lark. It's nothing...."</p>
+
+<p>"But the blood's flowing...."</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothing, I tell you, sir.... I know all about it.... Saw plenty of
+it as a greaser!... It won't show in five minutes ... and then I'm off...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course, I forgot, you're deserting!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather! The comrades are waiting for me...."</p>
+
+<p>"Then begin by getting your wound dressed...."</p>
+
+<p>"My wound dressed? Oh, that's a good one! I tell you, sir, it's nothing
+... less than nothing ... a kiss ... a puff of wind...."</p>
+
+<p>He stood up for an instant, but his eyelids <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>flickered, his hands sought
+for support and he fell back upon the litter.</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal and Marthe hastened to his side:</p>
+
+<p>"Let me, mamma, please," said Marthe, "I'm used to it.... But you've
+forgotten the absorbent wool ... and the peroxide of hydrogen.... Quick,
+mamma ... and more bandages, lots of bandages...."</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Morestal went out. Marthe bent over the wounded man and felt his
+pulse without delay:</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right, it's nothing," she said. "The artery is uninjured."</p>
+
+<p>She uncovered the wound and, very tenderly, staunched the blood that
+trickled from it:</p>
+
+<p>"The peroxide, quick, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>She took the bottle which some one held out to her and, raising her
+head, saw Suzanne stooping like herself over the wounded man.</p>
+
+<p>"M. Morestal is waking up," said the girl. "Mme. Morestal sent me in her stead...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe did not so much as start. She did not even feel as though an
+unpleasant memory had flitted through her mind, compelling her to make
+an effort to suppress her hatred:</p>
+
+<p>"Unroll the bandages," she said.</p>
+
+<p>And Suzanne also was calm in the face of her enemy. No sense of shame or
+embarrassment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> troubled her. Their mingled breath caressed the soldier's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>Nor did it seem that any memory of love existed between Philippe and
+Suzanne or that a carnal bond united them. They looked at each other
+unmoved. Marthe herself told Philippe to uncork a bottle of boracic. He
+did so. His hand touched Suzanne's. Neither he nor Suzanne felt a thrill.</p>
+
+<p>Around them continued the uninterrupted work of the men, each of whom
+obeyed orders and executed them according to his own initiative, without
+fuss or confusion. The servants were all in the drawing-room. The women
+aided in the work. Amid the great anguish that oppressed every heart at
+the first formidable breath of war, no one thought of anything but his
+individual task, that contribution of heroism which fate was claiming
+from one and all. What mattered the petty wounds of pride, the petty
+griefs to which the subtleties of love give rise! What signified the
+petty treacheries of daily life!</p>
+
+<p>"He's better," said Marthe. "Here, Suzanne, let him sniff at the
+smelling-salts."</p>
+
+<p>Duvauchel opened his eyes. He saw Marthe and Suzanne, smiled and murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"By Jingo!... It was worth while!... Duvauchel's a lucky dog!..."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p><p>But an unexpected silence fell upon the great drawing-room, like a
+spontaneous cessation of all the organs at work. And, suddenly, a voice
+was heard on the threshold:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>They</i> have crossed the frontier! Two of them have crossed the frontier!"</p>
+
+<p>And Victor exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"And there are more coming! You can see their helmets.... They are
+coming! They are in France!"</p>
+
+<p>The women fell on their knees. One of them moaned:</p>
+
+<p>"O God, have pity on us!"</p>
+
+<p>Marthe had joined Philippe at the terrace-door and they heard Captain
+Daspry repeating in a low voice, with an accent of despair:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they are in France ... they have crossed the frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"They are in France, Philippe," said Marthe, taking her husband's hand.</p>
+
+<p>And she felt his hand tremble.</p>
+
+<p>Drawing himself up quickly, the captain commanded:</p>
+
+<p>"Not a shot!... Let no one show himself!"</p>
+
+<p>The order flew from mouth to mouth and silence and immobility reigned in
+the Old Mill, from one end to the other of the house and grounds. Each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+one stood at his post. All along the wall, the soldiers kept themselves
+hidden, perched upright on their improvised talus.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, one of the drawing-room doors opened and old Morestal
+appeared on his wife's arm. Dressed in a pair of trousers and a
+waistcoat, bare-headed, tangle-haired, with a handkerchief fastened
+round his neck, he staggered on his wavering legs. Nevertheless, a sort
+of gladness, like an inward smile, lighted his features.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be," he said to his wife, who was endeavouring to support him.</p>
+
+<p>He steadied his gait and walked to the gun-rack, where the twelve rifles
+stood in a row.</p>
+
+<p>He took out one with feverish haste, felt it, with the touch of a
+sportsman recognizing his favourite weapon, passed in front of Philippe,
+without appearing to see him, and went out on the terrace.</p>
+
+<p>"You, M. Morestal!" said Captain Daspry.</p>
+
+<p>Pointing to the frontier, the old man asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Are they there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you making a resistance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there many of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are twenty to one."</p>
+
+<p>"If so ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p><p>"But ..."</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to, M. Morestal; and be easy, we shall stand our ground....
+I'm certain of it."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal said, in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Remember what I told you, captain.... The road is undermined at two
+hundred yards from the terrace.... A match and ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," protested the officer, "I hope it won't come to that! I am
+expecting relief."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well!" said Morestal. "But anything rather than let them come up
+to the Old Mill!"</p>
+
+<p>"They won't come up. It's out of the question that they should come up
+before the arrival of the French troops."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! As long as the Old Mill remains in our hands, they won't be able
+to man the heights and threaten Saint-&Eacute;lophe."</p>
+
+<p>They could plainly see columns of infantry winding along the Col du
+Diable. There, they divided and one part of the men turned towards the
+Butte-aux-Loups, while the others&mdash;consisting of the greater number, for
+this was evidently the enemy's object&mdash;went down towards the &Eacute;tang-des
+Moines, to seize the high-road.</p>
+
+<p>These disappeared for a moment, hidden by the bend of the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The captain said to Morestal:</p>
+
+<p>"Once the road is held and the assault begins, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> will be impossible to
+get away.... It would be better, therefore, for the ladies ... and for you yourself ..."</p>
+
+<p>Morestal gave him such a look that the officer did not insist:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," he said, smiling, "don't be angry.... Rather help me to
+make these good people understand...."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the servants, to Victor, who was taking down a rifle, to
+the gardener, to Henriot, and warned them that none but combatants must
+stay at the Old Mill, as any man captured with arms in his hands exposed
+himself to reprisals.</p>
+
+<p>They let him talk; and Victor, without thinking of retiring, answered:</p>
+
+<p>"That's as may be, captain. But it's one of the things one doesn't think
+about. I'm staying."</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Farmer Saboureux? You're running a big risk, if they prove
+that you set fire to your farm."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm staying," growled the peasant, laconically.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, tramp?"</p>
+
+<p>Old Poussi&egrave;re had not finished eating the piece of bread which he had
+taken from his wallet. He was listening and observing, with eyes wide
+open and an evident effort to attend. He examined the captain, his
+uniform, the braid upon his sleeve,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> seemed to reflect on mysterious
+things, stood up and seized a rifle.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, Poussi&egrave;re," grinned Morestal. "You know your country
+right enough, once it needs defending."</p>
+
+<p>A man had made the same movement as the tramp, almost at the same time.
+One more division in the gun-rack was empty.</p>
+
+<p>It was Duvauchel, still rather unsteady on his pins, but wearing an undaunted look.</p>
+
+<p>"What, Duvauchel!" asked Captain Daspry. "Aren't we deserting?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're getting at me, captain! Let the beggars clear out of France
+first! I'll desert afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"But you've only one arm that's any good."</p>
+
+<p>"A greaser's arm, captain ... and a French greaser's at that ... is
+worth two, any day."</p>
+
+<p>"Pass me one of them rifles," said the gardener's son. "I know my way
+about with 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Duvauchel began to laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"You too, sonnie? You want one? You'll see, the babes at the breast will
+be rising up next, like the others. Lord, but it makes my blood boil to
+think that they're in France!"</p>
+
+<p>All followed the captain, who allotted them a post along the parapet.
+The women busied themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> in placing ammunition within reach of the
+marksmen.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe was left alone with her husband. She saw that the scene had
+stirred him. In the way in which those decent folk realized their duty
+and performed it without being compelled to, simply and spontaneously,
+there was that sort of greatness which touches a man to the very depths of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>She said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Philippe?"</p>
+
+<p>His face was drawn; he did not reply.</p>
+
+<p>She continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go.... What are you waiting for? No one will notice your
+flight.... Be quick.... Take the opportunity while it's here...."</p>
+
+<p>They heard the captain addressing his lieutenant:</p>
+
+<p>"Keep down your head, Fabr&egrave;gues, can't you? They'll see you, if you're
+not careful...."</p>
+
+<p>Marthe seized Philippe's arm and, bending towards him:</p>
+
+<p>"Now confess that you can't go ... that all this upsets your notions ...
+and that your duty is here ... that you feel it."</p>
+
+<p>"There they are! There they are!" said a voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Captain Daspry, searching the road<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> through the orifice of a
+loop-hole, "yes, there they are!... At six hundred yards, at most ...
+It's the vanguard.... They are skirting the pool and they haven't a notion that ..."</p>
+
+<p>A sergeant came to tell him that the enemy had hoisted a gun on the
+slope of the pass. The officer was alarmed, but old Morestal began to laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"Let them bring up as many guns as they please!... They can only take up
+positions which we command and which I have noted. A few good marksmen
+are enough to keep them from placing a battery."</p>
+
+<p>And, turning to his son, he said to him, quite naturally, as though
+nothing had ever parted them:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you coming, Philippe? We'll demolish them between us."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Daspry interfered:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't fire! We are not discovered yet. Wait till I give the order....
+There'll be time enough later...."</p>
+
+<p>Old Morestal had moved away.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe walked resolutely towards the gate that led to the garden, to
+the open country. But he had not taken ten steps, when he stopped. He
+seemed to be vaguely suffering; and Marthe, who had not left his side,
+Marthe, anxious, full of mingled hope and apprehension, watched every
+phase of the tragic struggle:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p><p>"All the past is calling on you, Philippe; all the love for France that
+the past has bequeathed to you. Listen to its voice."</p>
+
+<p>And, replying to every possible objection:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know, your intelligence rebels against it. But is one's
+intelligence everything?... Obey your instinct, Philippe.... It's your
+instinct that is right."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he stammered, "one's instinct is never right...."</p>
+
+<p>"It is right. But for that, you would be far away by now. But you can't
+go. Your whole being refuses to go. Your legs have not the strength for flight."</p>
+
+<p>The Col du Diable was pouring forth troops and more troops, whose
+swarming masses showed along the slope. Others must be coming by the
+Albern Road; and, on every side, along every path and through every gap,
+the men of Germany were invading the soil of France.</p>
+
+<p>The vanguard reached the high-road, at the end of the &Eacute;tang-des-Moines.</p>
+
+<p>There was a dull roll of the drum; and, suddenly, in the near silence, a
+hoarse voice barked out a German word of command.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe started as though he had been struck.</p>
+
+<p>And Marthe clung to him, pitilessly:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear, Philippe? Do you understand?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> The German speech on French
+soil! Their language forced upon us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" he said. "That can't be.... That will never be!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should it never be? Invasion comes first ... and then conquest ...
+and subjection...."</p>
+
+<p>Near them, the captain ordered:</p>
+
+<p>"Let no one stir!"</p>
+
+<p>Bullets spluttered against the walls, while the sounds of firing
+reverberated. A window-pane was smashed on the floor above. And more
+bullets broke fragments of stone from the coping of the parapet. The
+enemy, surprised at the disappearance of the French troops, were feeling
+their way before passing below that house, whose gloomy aspect must
+needs strike them as suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said a soldier, spinning on his heels and falling on the threshold
+of the drawing-room, his face covered with blood.</p>
+
+<p>The women ran to his assistance.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe gazed haggard-eyed at that man who was about to die, at that
+man who belonged to the same race, who lived under the same sky as
+himself, who breathed the same air, ate the same bread and drank the same wine.</p>
+
+<p>Marthe had taken down a rifle and handed it to Philippe. He grasped it
+with a sort of despair:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"Who would ever have told me ...?" he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"I, Philippe ... I was sure of you. We have not to do with theories, but
+with implacable facts. These are realities, to-day.... The enemy is
+treading the bit of earth where you were born, where you played as a
+child. The enemy is forcing his way into France. Defend her, Philippe...."</p>
+
+<p>He clenched his fists around his rifle and she saw that his eyes were
+full of tears.</p>
+
+<p>He murmured, quivering with inward rebellion:</p>
+
+<p>"Our sons will refuse ... I shall teach them to refuse.... What I cannot
+do, what I have not the courage to do they shall do."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps, but what does the future matter!" she said, eagerly. "What
+does to-morrow's duty matter! Our duty, yours and mine, is the duty of to-day."</p>
+
+<p>A voice whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"They're coming near, captain.... They're coming near...."</p>
+
+<p>Another voice, beside Philippe, the voice of one of the women tending
+the wounded man, moaned:</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead.... Poor fellow!... He's dead...."</p>
+
+<p>The guns roared on the frontier.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you coming, Philippe?" asked old Morestal.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p><p>"I'm coming, father," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Very quickly, he walked out on the terrace and knelt beside his father,
+against the balusters. Marthe knelt down behind him and wept at the
+thought of what he must be suffering. Nevertheless, she did not doubt
+but that, notwithstanding his despair, he was acting in all conscience.</p>
+
+<p>The captain said, clearly, and the order was repeated to the end of the garden:</p>
+
+<p>"Fire as you please.... Sight at three hundred yards...."</p>
+
+<p>There were a few seconds of solemn waiting ... then the terrible word:</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!"</p>
+
+<p>Yonder, along the barrel of his rifle, near an old oak in whose branches
+he once used to climb, Philippe saw a great lubber in uniform throw up
+his hands, bend his legs one after the other and stretch himself along
+the ground, slowly, as though to sleep....</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>THE END</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Frontier
+
+Author: Maurice LeBlanc
+
+Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos
+
+Release Date: April 2, 2009 [EBook #28480]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRONTIER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FRONTIER
+
+BY
+
+MAURICE LEBLANC
+
+AUTHOR OF "ARSENE LUPIN," "813," ETC.
+
+TRANSLATED BY
+
+ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
+
+[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
+
+HODDER & STOUGHTON
+NEW YORK
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+
+Copyright, 1912,
+By Maurice Leblanc
+
+Copyright, 1912,
+By George H. Doran Company
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+PART I
+
+CHAPTER                             PAGE
+
+   I A HEAD BETWEEN THE BUSHES         3
+
+  II THE GIRL WITH THE BARE ARMS      17
+
+ III THE VIOLET PAMPHLET              30
+
+  IV PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE            46
+
+   V THE SHEET OF NOTE-PAPER          58
+
+  VI THE PLASTER STATUE               66
+
+ VII EVE TRIUMPHANT                   76
+
+VIII THE TRAP                         94
+
+
+PART II
+
+   I THE TWO WOMEN                   107
+
+  II PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE            118
+
+ III FATHER AND SON                  133
+
+  IV THE ENQUIRIES                   150
+
+   V THE THUNDERCLAP                 164
+
+  VI THE BUTTE-AUX-LOUPS             177
+
+ VII MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION          195
+
+VIII THE STAGES TO CALVARY           208
+
+
+PART III
+
+   I THE ARMED VIGIL                 233
+
+  II THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH      249
+
+ III IDEAS AND FACTS                 268
+
+  IV THE SACRED SOIL                 281
+
+
+
+
+THE FRONTIER
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A HEAD BETWEEN THE BUSHES
+
+
+"They've done it!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The German frontier-post ... at the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Knocked down."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"See for yourself."
+
+Old Morestal stepped aside. His wife came out of the drawing-room and
+went and stood by the telescope, on its tripod, at the end of the
+terrace.
+
+"I can see nothing," she said, presently.
+
+"Don't you see a tree standing out above the others, with lighter
+foliage?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And, to the right of that tree, a little lower down, an empty space
+surrounded by fir-trees?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's the circus of the Butte-aux-Loups and it marks the frontier at
+that spot."
+
+"Ah, I've got it!... There it is!... You mean on the ground, don't you?
+Lying flat on the grass, exactly as if it had been rooted up by last
+night's storm...."
+
+"What are you talking about? It has been fairly felled with an axe: you
+can see the gash from here."
+
+"So I can ... so I can...."
+
+She stood up and shook her head:
+
+"That makes the third time this year.... It will mean more
+unpleasantness."
+
+"Fiddle-de-dee!" he exclaimed. "All they've got to do is to put up a
+solid post, instead of their old bit of wood." And he added, in a tone
+of pride, "The French post, two yards off, doesn't budge, you know!"
+
+"Well, of course not! It's made of cast-iron and cemented into the
+stone."
+
+"Let them do as much then! It's not money they're wanting ... when you
+think of the five thousand millions they robbed us of!... No, but, I say
+... three of them in eight months!... How will the people take it, on
+the other side of the Vosges?"
+
+He could not hide the sort of gay and sarcastic feeling of content that
+filled his whole being and he walked up and down the terrace, stamping
+his feet as hard as he could on the ground.
+
+But, suddenly going to his wife, he seized her by the arm and said, in
+a hollow voice:
+
+"Would you like to know what I really think?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, all this will lead to trouble."
+
+"No," said the old lady, quietly.
+
+"How do you mean, no?"
+
+"We've been married five-and-thirty years; and, for five-and-thirty
+years, you've told me, week after week, that we shall have trouble. So,
+you see...."
+
+She turned away from him and went back to the drawing-room again, where
+she began to dust the furniture with a feather-broom.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, as he followed her indoors:
+
+"Oh, yes, you're the placid mother, of course! Nothing excites you. As
+long as your cupboards are tidy, your linen all complete and your jams
+potted, you don't care!... Still, you ought not to forget that they
+killed your poor father."
+
+"I don't forget it ... only, what's the good? It's more than forty years
+ago...."
+
+"It was yesterday," he said, sinking his voice, "yesterday, no longer
+ago than yesterday...."
+
+"Ah, there's the postman!" she said, hurrying to change the
+conversation.
+
+She heard a heavy footstep outside the windows opening on the garden.
+There was a rap at the knocker on the front-door. A minute later,
+Victor, the man-servant, brought in the letters.
+
+"Oh!" said Mme. Morestal. "A letter from the boy.... Open it, will you?
+I haven't my spectacles.... I expect it's to say that he will arrive
+this evening: he was to have left Paris this morning."
+
+"Not at all!" cried M. Morestal, glancing over the letter. "Philippe and
+his wife have taken their two boys to some friends at Versailles and
+started with the intention of sleeping last night at the Ballon de
+Colnard, seeing the sunrise and doing the rest of the journey on foot,
+with their knapsacks on their backs. They will be here by twelve."
+
+She at once lost her head:
+
+"And the storm! What about last night's storm?"
+
+"My son doesn't care about the storm! It won't be the first that the
+fellow's been through. It's eleven o'clock. He will be with us in an
+hour."
+
+"But that will never do! There's nothing ready for them!"
+
+She at once went to work, like the active little old woman that she was,
+a little too fat, a little tired, but wide-awake still and so
+methodical, so orderly in her ways that she never made a superfluous
+movement or one that was not calculated to bring her an immediate
+advantage.
+
+As for him, he resumed his walk between the terrace and the
+drawing-room. He strode with long, even steps, holding his body erect,
+his chest flung out and his hands in the pockets of his jacket, a
+blue-drill gardening-jacket, with the point of a pruning-shears and the
+stem of a pipe sticking out of it. He was tall and broad-shouldered; and
+his fresh-coloured face seemed young still, in spite of the fringe of
+white beard in which it was framed.
+
+"Ah," he exclaimed, "what a treat to set eyes upon our dear Philippe
+again! It must be three years since we saw him last. Yes, of course, not
+since his appointment as professor of history in Paris. By Jove, the
+chap has made his way in the world! What a time we shall give him during
+the fortnight that he's with us! Walking ... exercise.... He's all for
+the open-air life, like old Morestal!"
+
+He began to laugh:
+
+"Shall I tell you what would be the thing for him? Six months in camp
+between this and Berlin!"
+
+"I'm not afraid," she declared. "He's been through the Normal School.
+The professors keep to their garrisons in time of war."
+
+"What nonsense are you talking now?"
+
+"The school-master told me so."
+
+He gave a start:
+
+"What! Do you mean to say you still speak to that dastard?"
+
+"He's quite a decent man," she replied.
+
+"He! A decent man! With theories like his!"
+
+She hurried from the room, to escape the explosion. But Morestal was
+fairly started:
+
+"Yes, yes, theories! I insist upon the word: theories! As a
+district-councillor, as Mayor of Saint-Elophe, I have the right to be
+present at his lessons. Oh, you have no idea of his way of teaching the
+history of France!... In my time, the heroes were the Chevalier d'Assas,
+Bayard, La Tour d'Auvergne, all those beggars who shed lustre on our
+country. Nowadays, it's Mossieu Etienne Marcel, Mossieu Dolet.... Oh, a
+nice set of theories, theirs!"
+
+He barred the way to his wife, as she entered the room again, and roared
+in her face:
+
+"Do you know why Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo?"
+
+"I can't find that large breakfast-cup anywhere," said Mme. Morestal,
+engrossed in her occupation.
+
+"Well, just ask your school-master; he'll give you the latest up-to-date
+theories about Napoleon."
+
+"I put it down here, on this chest, with my own hand."
+
+"But there, they're doing all they can to distort the children's
+minds."
+
+"It spoils my set."
+
+"Oh, I swear to you, in the old days, we'd have ducked our school-master
+in the horse-pond, if he had dared.... But, by Jove, France had a place
+of her own in the world then! And such a place!
+
+... That was the time of Solferino!... Of Magenta!... We weren't
+satisfied with chucking down frontier-posts in those days: we crossed
+the frontiers ... and at the double, believe me...."
+
+He stopped, hesitating, pricking up his ears. Trumpet-blasts sounded in
+the distance, ringing from valley to valley, echoing and re-echoing
+against the obstacles formed by the great granite rocks and dying away
+to right and left, as though stifled by the shadow of the forests.
+
+He whispered, excitedly:
+
+"The French bugle...."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Yes, there are troops of Alpines manoeuvring ... a company from
+Noirmont.... Listen ... listen.... What gaiety!... What swagger!... I
+tell you, close to the frontier like this, it takes such an air...."
+
+She listened too, seized with the same excitement, and asked, anxiously:
+
+"Do you really think that war is possible?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, "I do."
+
+They were silent for a moment. And Morestal continued:
+
+"It's a presentiment with me.... We shall have it all over again, as in
+1870.... And, mark you, I hope that this time ..."
+
+She put down her breakfast-cup, which she had found in a cupboard, and,
+leaning on her husband's arm:
+
+"I say, the boy's coming ... with his wife. She's a dear girl and we're
+very fond of her.... I want the house to look nice for them, bright and
+full of flowers.... Go and pick the best you have in your garden."
+
+He smiled:
+
+"That's another way of saying that I'm boring you, eh? I can't help it.
+I shall be just the same to my dying day. The wound is too deep ever to
+heal."
+
+They looked at each other for a while with a great gentleness, like two
+old travelling-companions, who, from time to time, for no particular
+reason, stop, exchange glances or thoughts and then resume their
+journey.
+
+He asked:
+
+"Must I cut my roses? My Gloires de Dijon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Come along then! I'll be a hero!"
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Morestal, the son and grandson of well-to-do farmers, had increased his
+fathers' fortune tenfold by setting up a mechanical saw-yard at
+Saint-Elophe, the big neighbouring village. He was a plain, blunt man,
+as he himself used to say, "with no false bottom, nothing in my hands,
+nothing up my sleeves;" just a few moral ideas to guide his course
+through life, ideas as old and simple as could be. And those few ideas
+themselves were subject to a principle that governed his whole existence
+and ruled all his actions, the love of his country, which, in Morestal,
+stood for regret for the past, hatred of the present and, especially,
+the bitter recollection of defeat.
+
+Elected Mayor of Saint-Elophe and a district-councillor, he sold his
+works and built, within view of the frontier, on the site of a ruined
+mill, a large house designed after his own plans and constructed, so to
+speak, under his own eyes. The Morestals had lived here for the last ten
+years, with their two servants: Victor, a decent, stout, jolly-faced
+man, and Catherine, a Breton woman who had nursed Philippe as a baby.
+
+They saw but few people, outside a small number of friends, of whom the
+most frequent visitors were the special commissary of the government,
+Jorance, and his daughter Suzanne.
+
+The Old Mill occupied the round summit of a hill with slopes shelving
+down in a series of fairly large gardens, which Morestal cultivated with
+genuine enthusiasm. The property was surrounded by a high wall, the top
+of which was finished off with an iron trellis bristling with spikes. A
+spring leapt from place to place and fell in cascades to the bottom of
+the rocks decked with wild flowers, moss, lichen and maiden-hair ferns.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Morestal picked a great armful of flowers, laid waste his rose-garden,
+sacrificed all the Gloires de Dijon of which he was so proud and
+returned to the drawing-room, where he himself arranged the bunches in
+large glass vases.
+
+The room, a sort of hall occupying the centre of the house, with beams
+of timber showing and a huge chimney covered with gleaming brasses, the
+room was bright and cheerful and open at both fronts: to the east, on
+the terrace, by a long bay; to the west, by two windows, on the garden,
+which it overlooked from the height of a first floor.
+
+The walls were covered with War Office maps, Home Office maps, district
+maps. There was an oak gun-rack with twelve rifles, all alike and of the
+latest pattern. Beside it, nailed flat to the wall and roughly stitched
+together, were three dirty, worn, tattered strips of bunting, blue,
+white and red.
+
+"They look very well: what do you say?" he asked, when he had finished
+arranging the flowers, as though his wife had been in the room. "And
+now, I think, a good pipe ..."
+
+He took out his tobacco-pouch and matches and, crossing the terrace,
+went and leant against the stone balustrade that edged it.
+
+Hills and valleys mingled in harmonious curves, all green, in places,
+with the glad green of the meadows, all dark, in others, with the
+melancholy green of the firs and larches.
+
+At thirty or forty feet below him ran the road that leads from
+Saint-Elophe up to the Old Mill. It skirted the walls and then dipped
+down again to the Etang-des-Moines, or Monks' Pool, of which it followed
+the left bank. Breaking off suddenly, it narrowed into a rugged path
+which could be seen in the distance, standing like a ladder against a
+rampart, and which plunged into a narrow pass between two mountains
+wilder in appearance and rougher in outline than the ordinary Vosges
+landscape. This was the Col du Diable, or Devil's Pass, situated at a
+distance of sixteen hundred yards from the Old Mill, on the same level.
+
+A few buildings clung to one of the sides of the pass: these belonged to
+Saboureux's Farm. From Saboureux's Farm to the Butte-aux-Loups, or
+Wolves' Knoll, which you saw on the left, you could make out or imagine
+the frontier by following a line of which Morestal knew every
+guiding-mark, every turn, every acclivity and every descent.
+
+"The frontier!" he muttered. "The frontier here ... at twenty-five miles
+from the Rhine ... the frontier in the very heart of France!"
+
+Every day and ten times a day, he tortured himself in this manner,
+gazing at that painful and relentless line; and, beyond it, through
+vistas which his imagination contrived as it were to carve out of the
+Vosges, he conjured up a vision of the German plain on the misty
+horizon.
+
+And this too he repeated to himself; and he did so this time as at every
+other time, with a bitterness which the years that passed did nothing to
+allay:
+
+"The German plain ... the German hills ... all that land of Alsace in
+which I used to wander as a boy.... The French Rhine, which was my river
+and the river of my fathers.... And now _Deutschland_ ... _Deutsches
+Rhein_...."
+
+A faint whistle made him start. He leant over towards the staircase that
+climbed the terrace, a staircase cut out of the rock, by which people
+coming from the side of the frontier often entered his grounds so as to
+avoid the bend of the road. There was nobody there nor anybody opposite,
+on the roadside slope all tangled with shrubs and ferns.
+
+And the sound was renewed, discreetly, stealthily, with the same
+modulations as before.
+
+"It's he ... it's he ..." thought M. Morestal, with an uncomfortable
+feeling of embarrassment.
+
+A head popped from between the bushes, a head in which all the bones
+stood out, joined by prominent muscles, which gave it the look of the
+head of an anatomical model. On the bridge of the nose, a pair of
+copper-rimmed spectacles. Across the face, like a gash, the toothless,
+grinning mouth.
+
+"You again, Dourlowski...."
+
+"Can I come?" asked the man.
+
+"No ... no ... you're mad...."
+
+"It's urgent."
+
+"Impossible.... And besides, you know, I don't want any more of it. I've
+told you so before...."
+
+But the man insisted:
+
+"It's for this evening, for to-night.... It's a soldier of the
+Boersweilen garrison.... He says he's sick of wearing the German
+uniform."
+
+"A deserter.... I've had enough of them.... Shut up and clear out!"
+
+"Now don't be nasty, M. Morestal.... Just think it over.... Look here,
+let's meet at four o'clock, in the pass, near Saboureux's Farm ... like
+last time.... I shall expect you.... We'll have a talk ... and I shall
+be surprised if ..."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal.
+
+A voice cried from the drawing-room:
+
+"Here they come, sir, here they come!"
+
+It was the man-servant; and Mme. Morestal also ran out and said:
+
+"What are you doing here? Whom were you talking to?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"Why, I heard you!..."
+
+"No, I assure you...."
+
+"Well, I must have imagined it.... I say you were quite right. It's
+twelve o'clock and they are here, the two of them."
+
+"Philippe and Marthe?"
+
+"Yes, they are coming. They are close to the garden-entrance. Let's
+hurry down and meet them...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GIRL WITH THE BARE ARMS
+
+
+"He hasn't changed a bit.... His complexion is as fresh as ever.... The
+eyes are a little tired, perhaps ... but he's looking very well...."
+
+"When you've finished picking me to pieces, between you!" said Philippe,
+laughing. "What an inspection! Why don't you give my wife a kiss? That's
+more to the point!"
+
+Marthe flung herself into Mme. Morestal's arms and into her
+father-in-law's and was examined from head to foot in her turn.
+
+"I say, I say, we're thinner in the face than we were!... We want
+picking up.... But, my poor children, you're soaked to the skin!"
+
+"We were out all through the storm," said Philippe.
+
+"And what do you think happened to me?" asked Marthe. "I got
+frightened!... Yes, frightened, like a little girl ... and I fainted....
+And Philippe had to carry me ... for half an hour at least...."
+
+"What do you say to that?" said Morestal to his wife. "For half an
+hour! He's the same strong chap he was.... And why didn't you bring the
+boys? It's a pity. Two fine little fellows, I feel sure. And well
+brought up too: I know my Marthe!... How old are they now? Ten and nine,
+aren't they? By the way, mother got two rooms ready. Do you have
+separate rooms now?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Marthe, "only down here!... Philippe wants to get up
+before day-break and ramble about the roads ... whereas I need a little
+rest."
+
+"Capital! Capital! Show them to their rooms, mother ... and, when you're
+ready, children, come down to lunch. As soon as we've finished, I'll
+take the carriage and go and fetch your trunks at Saint-Elophe: the
+railway-omnibus will have brought them there by this time. And, if I
+meet my friend Jorance, I'll bring him back with me. I expect he's in
+the dumps. His daughter left for Luneville this morning. But she said
+she had written to you...."
+
+"Yes," said Marthe, "I had a letter from Suzanne the other day. She
+didn't seem to like the idea, either, of going away...."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Two hours later, Philippe and his wife settled themselves in two pretty,
+adjoining bedrooms on the second floor, looking out on the French side.
+Marthe threw herself on her bed and fell asleep almost immediately,
+while her husband, with his elbows on the window-sill, sat gazing at the
+peaceful valley where the happiest days of his boyhood had been spent.
+
+It was over yonder, in the straggling village of Saint-Elophe-la-Cote,
+in the modest dwelling which his parents occupied before they moved to
+the Old Mill. He was at the boarding-school at Noirmont and used to have
+glorious holidays playing in the village or roaming about the Vosges
+with his father: Papa Trompette, as he always called him, because of all
+the trumpets, bugles, horns and cornets which, together with drums of
+every shape and kind, swords and dirks, helmets and breast-plates, guns
+and pistols, were the only presents that his childhood knew. Morestal
+was a little strict; a little too fond of everything that had to do with
+principle, custom, discipline, exactness; a little quick-tempered; but,
+at the same time, he was the kindest of men and had no difficulty in
+winning his son's love, his frank and affectionate respect.
+
+Their only quarrel was on the day when Philippe, who was then in the top
+form, announced his intention of continuing his studies after he had
+passed his examination and of entering the Normal School. The father's
+whole dream was shattered, his great dream of seeing Philippe in
+uniform, with his sword at his side and the gold braid on the sleeve of
+his loose jacket.
+
+It came as a violent and painful shock; and Morestal was stupefied to
+find himself faced by an obstinate, deliberate Philippe, a Philippe
+wholly master of himself and firmly resolved to lead his life according
+to his own views and his own ambitions. For a week on end, the two
+argued, hurt each other's feelings, made it up again, only to fall out
+once more. Then the father suddenly yielded, in the middle of a
+discussion and as though he had all at once realized the futility of his
+efforts:
+
+"You have made up your mind?" he cried. "Very well! An usher you shall
+be, since that is your ideal; but I warn you that I decline all
+responsibility for the future and that I wash my hands of anything that
+happens."
+
+What happened was simply that Philippe's career was swift and brilliant
+and that, after a probationary term at Luneville and another at
+Chateauroux, he was appointed professor of history at Versailles. He
+then published, at a few months' interval, two remarkable books, which
+caused much heated controversy: _The Idea of Country in Ancient Greece_
+and _The Idea of Country before the Revolution_. Three years later, he
+was promoted to Paris, to the Lycee Carnot.
+
+Philippe was now approaching his fortieth year. Day-work and night-work
+seemed to have no effect upon his sturdy highland constitution.
+Possessing a set of powerful muscles and built on the same strong lines
+as his father, he found rest and recreation from study in violent
+exercise, in long bicycle-rides into the country or through the woods on
+the outskirts of Paris. The boys at the school, who held him in a sort
+of veneration, told stories of his exploits and his feats of strength.
+
+With all this, a great look of gentleness, especially about the eyes, a
+pair of very good, blue eyes, which smiled when he spoke and which, when
+at rest, were candid, childish almost, filled with dreams and kindness.
+
+By this time, old Morestal was proud of his son. On the day when he
+heard of his nomination to Carnot, he wrote, frankly:
+
+
+     "Well done, my dear Philippe! So you're prospering now and in a
+     fair way to obtain anything you like to ask for. Let me tell you
+     that I am not in the least surprised, for I always expected that,
+     with your great qualities, your perseverance and your serious way
+     of looking at life, you would win the place which you deserved. So,
+     once more, well done!
+
+     "I confess, however, that your last book, on the idea of country
+     in France, puzzled me not a little. I know, of course, that you
+     will not change your opinions on this subject; but it seems to me
+     that you are trying to explain the idea of patriotism as due to
+     rather inferior motives and that this idea strikes you not as
+     natural and inherent to human societies, but as though it were a
+     momentary and passing phase of civilization. No doubt I have
+     misunderstood you. Still, your book is not very clear. You almost
+     appear to be hesitating. I shall look forward eagerly to the new
+     work, on the idea of country in our own times and in the future,
+     which I see that you are announcing...."
+
+
+The book to which Morestal alluded had been finished for over a year,
+during which Philippe, for reasons which he kept to himself, refused to
+deliver the manuscript to his publishers.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+"Are you glad to be here?"
+
+Marthe had come up and folded her two hands over his arm.
+
+"Very," he said. "And I should be still more pleased if I had not that
+explanation with my father before me ... the explanation which I came
+down here to have."
+
+"It will be all right, my own Philippe. Your father is so fond of you.
+And then you are so sincere!..."
+
+"My dear Marthe," he said, kissing her affectionately on the forehead.
+
+He had first met her at Luneville, through M. Jorance, who was her
+distant cousin; and he had at once felt that she was the ideal companion
+of his life, who would stand by him in hours of trouble, who would bear
+him comely children, who would understand how to bring them up and how,
+with his assistance and with his principles, to make sturdy men of them,
+worthy to bear his name.
+
+Perhaps Marthe would have liked something more; perhaps, as a girl, she
+had dreamt that a married woman is not merely the wife and mother, but
+also her husband's lover. But she soon saw that love went for little
+with Philippe, a studious man, much more interested in mental
+speculation and social problems than in any manifestation of sentimental
+feeling. She therefore loved him as he wished to be loved, stifling
+within herself, like smothered flames, a whole throbbing passion made up
+of unsatisfied longings, restrained ardours and needless jealousies and
+allowing only just so much of this to escape her as was needed to give
+him fresh courage at times of doubt and defeat.
+
+Short, slender and of delicate build, she was plucky, hardened to
+trouble, fearless in the face of obstacles, proof against disappointment
+after a check. Her bright, dark eyes betokened her energy. In spite of
+all the influence which Philippe wielded over her, in spite of the
+admiration with which he inspired her, she retained her personality, her
+own standpoint towards life, her likes and dislikes. And, to such a man
+as Philippe, nothing could be more precious.
+
+"Won't you try and sleep a little?" she asked.
+
+"No. I am going down to him."
+
+"To your father?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, I don't want to put it off any longer. As it is, I have almost
+done wrong in coming here and embracing him without first letting him
+know the exact truth about me."
+
+They were silent for a while. Philippe seemed undecided and worried.
+
+He said to her:
+
+"Don't you agree with me? Or do you think I ought to wait till
+to-morrow?..."
+
+She opened the door for him to pass:
+
+"No," she said, "you are right."
+
+She often had those unexpected movements which cut short hesitation and
+put you face to face with events. Another would have launched out into
+words. But Marthe never shirked responsibility, even where it concerned
+but the smallest facts of ordinary life. Philippe used to laugh and
+call it her daily heroism.
+
+He kissed her and felt strengthened by her confidence.
+
+Downstairs, he was told that his father was not yet back and he resolved
+to wait for him in the drawing-room. He lit a cigarette, let it go out
+again and, at first in a spirit of distraction and then with a growing
+interest, looked around him, as though he were trying to gather from
+inanimate objects particulars relating to the man who lived in their
+midst.
+
+He examined the rack containing the twelve rifles. They were all loaded,
+ready for service. Against what foe?
+
+He saw the flag which he had so often gazed upon in the old house at
+Saint-Elophe, the old, torn flag whose glorious history he knew so well.
+
+He saw the maps hanging on the wall, all of which traced the frontier in
+its smallest details, together with the country adjoining it on either
+side of the Vosges.
+
+He bent over the shelves of the little book-case and read the titles of
+the works: _The War of 1870, prepared in the historical section of the
+German General Staff_; _The Retreat of Bourbaki_; _The Way to prepare
+our Revenge_; _The Crime of the Peace-at-any-Price Party_....
+
+But one volume caught his attention more particularly. It was his own
+book on the idea of country. He turned the pages and, seeing that some
+of them were covered and scored with pencil-marks, he sat down and began
+to read:
+
+"It's as I thought," he muttered, presently. "How are he and I to
+understand each other henceforth? What common ground is there between
+us? I cannot expect him to accept my ideas. And how can I submit to
+his?"
+
+He went on reading and noticed comments the harshness of which
+distressed him beyond measure. Twenty minutes passed in this way,
+disturbed by no sound but that of the leaves which he turned as he read.
+
+And, suddenly, he felt two bare arms round his head, two cool, bare arms
+stroking his face. He tried to release himself. The two arms clasped him
+all the tighter.
+
+He made an abrupt effort and rose to his feet:
+
+"You!" he cried, stepping back. "You here, Suzanne!"
+
+A most attractive creature stood before him, at once smiling and
+bashful, in an attitude of provocation and fear, with hands clasped,
+then with arms again outstretched, beautiful, white, fragrant arms that
+showed below the short sleeves of her fine cambric blouse. Her fair hair
+was divided into two loose waves, whose rebellious curls played about
+at random. She had grey, almond-shaped eyes, half-veiled by their dark
+lashes; and her tiny teeth laughed at the edge of her red lips, lips so
+red that one would have thought--and been quite wrong in thinking--that
+they were painted.
+
+It was Suzanne Jorance, the daughter of Jorance the special commissary
+and a friend of Marthe, who knew her when she was quite a child at
+Luneville. Suzanne had spent four months, last winter, in Paris with the
+Philippe Morestals.
+
+"You!" he repeated. "You, Suzanne!"
+
+She replied, gaily:
+
+"Myself. Your father came to call on us at Saint-Elophe. And, as mine
+was out for a walk, he brought me back with him. I have just got out of
+the carriage. And here I am."
+
+He seized her by the wrists, in a fit of anger, and, in a hollow voice:
+
+"You had no business to be at Saint-Elophe. You wrote to Marthe that you
+were going away this morning. You ought not to have stayed. You know
+quite well that you ought not to have stayed."
+
+"Why?" she asked, quite confused.
+
+"Why? Because, at the end of your visit to Paris, you spoke to me in
+words which I was entitled to interpret ... which I took to mean ...
+And I would not have come, if you had not written that you were...."
+
+He broke off, embarrassed by the violence of his own outburst. The tears
+stood in Suzanne's eyes and her face had flushed so deep a red that her
+crimson lips seemed hardly red at all.
+
+Petrified by the words which he had uttered and still more by those
+which he had been on the verge of uttering, Philippe suddenly, in the
+girl's presence, felt a need to be gentle and friendly and to make
+amends for his inexplicable rudeness. An unexpected sense of pity
+softened him. He took the small, ice-cold hands between his own and
+said, kindly, with the intonation of a big brother scolding a younger
+sister:
+
+"Why did you stay, Suzanne?"
+
+"May I tell you, Philippe?"
+
+"Certainly, or I shouldn't ask you," he replied, a little nervously.
+
+"I wanted to see you, Philippe.... When I knew that you were coming ...
+and that, by delaying my departure by one day ... just one day.... You
+understand, don't you?..."
+
+He was silent, rightly thinking that, if he answered the least word, she
+would at once say something that he did not want to hear. And they no
+longer knew how to stand opposite each other and they no longer dared
+look each other in the face. But Philippe felt those small hands turn
+warm at the touch of his and felt all the life rush once more through
+that turbulent young being, like a source that is released and brings
+back joy and strength and hope.
+
+Steps were heard and a sound of voices rose in the hall outside.
+
+"M. Morestal," Suzanne whispered.
+
+And old Morestal shouted, long before entering the room:
+
+"Where are you, Suzanne? Here's your father coming. Quick, Jorance, the
+children are here. Yes, yes, your daughter, too.... I brought her back
+with me from Saint-Elophe.... But how did you come? Through the woods?"
+
+Suzanne slipped on a pair of long suede gloves and, at the moment when
+the door opened, said, in a tone of implacable resolve and as though the
+promise must needs fill Philippe's heart with delight:
+
+"No one shall ever see my bare arms again.... No one, Philippe, I swear
+to you.... No one shall ever stroke them...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE VIOLET PAMPHLET
+
+
+Jorance was a heavy and rather unwieldy, pleasant-faced man. Twenty-five
+years before, when secretary to the commissary at Noirmont, he had
+married a girl of entrancing beauty, who used to teach the piano in a
+boarding-school. One evening, after four years of marriage, four years
+of torture, during which the unhappy man suffered every sort of
+humiliation, Jorance came home to find the house empty. His wife had
+gone without a word of explanation, taking their little girl, Suzanne,
+with her.
+
+The only thing that kept him from suicide was the hope of recovering the
+child and saving her from the life which her mother's example would have
+forced upon her in the future.
+
+He did not have to look for her long. A month later, his wife sent back
+the child, who was no doubt in her way. But the wound had cut deep and
+lingered; and neither time nor the love which he bore his daughter could
+wipe out the memory of that cruel story.
+
+He buckled to his work, accepted the most burdensome tasks so as to
+increase his income and give Suzanne a good education, was transferred
+to the commissary's office at Luneville and, somewhat late in life, was
+promoted to be special commissary at the frontier. The position involved
+the delicate functions of a sentry on outpost duty whose business it is
+to see as much as possible of what goes on in the neighbour's country;
+and Jorance filled it so conscientiously, tactfully and skilfully that
+the neighbour aforesaid, while dreading his shrewdness and insight,
+respected his character and his professional qualities.
+
+At Saint-Elophe, he renewed his intimacy with old Morestal, who was his
+grand-uncle by marriage and who was very much attached to him.
+
+The two men saw each other almost every day. Jorance and Suzanne used to
+dine at the Old Mill on Thursdays and Sundays. Suzanne would also often
+come alone and accompany the old man on his daily walk. He took a great
+fancy to her; and it was upon his advice and at the urgent request of
+Philippe and Marthe Morestal that Jorance had taken Suzanne to Paris the
+previous winter.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+His first words on entering the room were to thank Philippe:
+
+"You can't think, my dear Philippe, how glad I was to leave her with
+you. Suzanne is young. And I approve of a little distraction."
+
+He looked at Suzanne with the fervent glance of a father who has brought
+up his daughter himself and whose love for her is mingled with a touch
+of feminine affection.
+
+And he said to Philippe:
+
+"Have you heard the news? I am marrying her."
+
+"Really?" said Philippe.
+
+"Yes, to one of my cousins at Nancy, a man rather well-on in years,
+perhaps, but a serious, active and intelligent fellow. Suzanne likes him
+very much. You do like him very much, don't you, Suzanne?"
+
+The girl seemed not to hear the question and asked:
+
+"Is Marthe in her room, Philippe?"
+
+"Yes, on the second floor."
+
+"I know, the blue room. I was here yesterday, helping Mme. Morestal. I
+must run up and give her a kiss."
+
+She turned round in the doorway and kissed her hand to the three men,
+keeping her eyes fixed on Philippe.
+
+"How pretty and charming your daughter is!" said Morestal to Jorance.
+
+But they could see that he was thinking of something else and that he
+was eager to change the conversation. He shut the door quickly and,
+returning to the special commissary, said:
+
+"Did you come by the frontier-road?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you haven't been told yet?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The German post ... at the Butte-aux-Loups...."
+
+"Knocked down?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, by Jove!"
+
+Morestal stopped to enjoy the effect which he had produced and then
+continued:
+
+"What do you say to it?"
+
+"I say ... I say that it's most annoying.... They're in a very bad
+temper as it is, on the other side. This means trouble for me."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, of course. Haven't you heard that they're beginning to accuse me
+of encouraging the German deserters?"
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"I tell you, they are. It seems that there's a secret desertion-office
+in these parts. I'm supposed to be at the head of it. And you, you are
+the heart and soul of it."
+
+"Oh, they can't stand me at any price!"
+
+"Nor me either. Weisslicht, the German commissary at Boersweilen, has
+sworn a mortal hatred against me. We cut each other now when we meet.
+There's not a doubt but that he is responsible for the calumnies."
+
+"But what proofs do they put forward?"
+
+"Any number ... all equally bad.... Among others, this: pieces of French
+gold which are said to have been found on their soldiers. So you see ...
+with the post tumbling down once more, the explanations that are certain
+to begin all over again, the enquiries that are certain to be
+opened...."
+
+Philippe went up to him:
+
+"Come, come, I don't suppose it's so serious as all that."
+
+"You think not, my boy? Then you haven't seen the stop-press telegrams
+in this morning's papers?"
+
+"No," said Philippe and his father. "What's the news?"
+
+"An incident in Asia Minor. A quarrel between the French and German
+officials. One of the consuls has been killed."
+
+"Oh, oh!" said Morestal. "This time ..."
+
+And Jorance went into details:
+
+"Yes, the position is exceedingly strained. The Morocco question has
+been opened again. Then there's the espionage business and the story of
+the French air-men flying over the fortresses in Alsace and dropping
+tricolour flags in the Strasburg streets.... For six months, it has been
+one long series of complications and shocks. The newspapers are becoming
+aggressive in their language. Both countries are arming, strengthening
+their defences. In short, in spite of the good intentions of the two
+governments, we are at the mercy of an accident. A spark ... and the
+thing's done."
+
+A heavy silence weighed upon the three men. Each of them conjured up the
+sinister vision according to his own temperament and instincts.
+
+Jorance repeated:
+
+"A spark ... and the thing's done."
+
+"Well, let it be done!" said Morestal, with an angry gesture.
+
+Philippe gave a start:
+
+"What are you saying, father?"
+
+"Well, what! There must be an end to all this."
+
+"But the end need not be in blood."
+
+"Nonsense ... nonsense.... There are injuries that can only be wiped out
+in blood. And, when a great country like ours has received a slap in the
+face like that of 1870, it can wait forty years, fifty years, but a day
+comes when it returns the slap in the face ... and with both hands!"
+
+"And suppose we are beaten?" said Philippe.
+
+"Can't be helped! Honour comes first! Besides, we sha'n't be beaten.
+Let every man do his duty and we shall see! In 1870, as a prisoner of
+war, I gave my word not to serve in the French army again. I escaped, I
+collected the young rapscallions of Saint-Elophe and round about, the
+old men, the cripples, the women even.... We took to the woods. Three
+rags served as a rallying-signal: a bit of white linen, a strip of red
+flannel and a piece out of a blue apron ... the flag of the band! There
+it hangs.... It shall see the light of day again, if necessary."
+
+Jorance could not help laughing:
+
+"Do you think that will stop the Prussians?"
+
+"Don't laugh, my friend.... You know the view I take of my duty and what
+I am doing. But it is just as well that Philippe should know, too. Sit
+down, my boy."
+
+He himself sat down, put aside the pipe which he was smoking and began,
+with the obvious satisfaction of a man who is at last able to speak of
+what he has most at heart:
+
+"You know the frontier, Philippe, or rather the German side of the
+frontier?... A craggy cliff, a series of peaks and ravines which make
+this part of the Vosges an insuperable rampart...."
+
+"Yes, absolutely insuperable," said Philippe.
+
+"That's a mistake!" exclaimed Morestal. "A fatal mistake! From the
+first moment when I began to think of these matters, I believed that a
+day would come when the enemy would attack that rampart."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"That day has come, Philippe. For the last six months, not a week has
+passed without my meeting some suspicious figure over there or knocking
+up against men walking about in smocks that were hardly enough to
+conceal their uniform.... It is a constant, progressive underhand work.
+Everybody is helping in it. The electric factory which the Wildermann
+firm has run up in that ridiculous fashion on the edge of the precipice
+is only a make-believe. The road that leads to it is a military road.
+From the factory to the Col du Diable is less than half a mile. One
+effort and the frontier's crossed."
+
+"By a company," objected Jorance.
+
+"Where a company passes, a regiment can pass and a brigade can
+follow.... At Boersweilen, five miles from the Vosges, there are three
+thousand German soldiers: on a war-footing, mark you. At Gernach, twelve
+miles further, there are twelve thousand; and four thousand horses; and
+eight hundred waggons. By the evening of the day on which war is
+declared, perhaps even earlier, those fifteen thousand men will have
+crossed the Col du Diable. It's not a surprise which they mean to
+attempt: that wouldn't be worth their while. It is the absolute
+crossing of the frontier, the taking possession of our ridges, the
+occupation of Saint-Elophe. When our troops arrive, it will be too late!
+They will find Noirmont cut off, Belfort threatened, the south of the
+Vosges invaded.... You can picture the moral effect: we shall be done
+for! That is what is being prepared in the dark. That is what you have
+been unable to see, Jorance, in spite of all your watchfulness ... and
+in spite of my warnings."
+
+"I wrote to the prefect last week."
+
+"You should have written last year! All this time, the other has been
+coming on, the other has been advancing.... He hardly takes the trouble
+to conceal himself.... There ... listen to him ... listen to him...."
+
+In the far distance, like the sound of an echo, deadened by the mass of
+trees, a bugle-call had rung out, somewhere, through the air. It was an
+indistinct call, but Morestal was not mistaken and he hissed:
+
+"Ah, it's he!... It's he.... I know the voice of Germany.... I know it
+when I hear it ... the hoarse, the odious voice!..."
+
+Presently, Philippe, who had not taken his eyes off his father, said:
+
+"And then, father?"
+
+"And then, my son, it was in anticipation of that day that I built my
+house on this hill, that I surrounded my gardens with a wall, that,
+unknown to anybody, I stocked the out-houses with means of defence:
+ammunition, bags of sand, gun-powder ... that, in short, I prepared for
+an alarm by setting up this unsuspected little fortress at twenty
+minutes from the Col du Diable ... on the very threshold of the
+frontier!"
+
+He had planted himself with his face to the east, with his face to the
+enemy; and, clutching his hips with his clenched hands, in an attitude
+of defiance, he seemed to be awaiting the inevitable assault.
+
+The special commissary, who still feared that his zeal had been caught
+napping in this business, growled:
+
+"Your shanty won't hold out for an hour."
+
+"And who tells you," shouted Morestal, "who tells you that that hour is
+not exactly the one hour which we shall want to gain?... An hour! You
+never spoke a truer word: an hour of resistance to the first attack! An
+hour of delay!... That's what I wanted, that's what I offer to my
+country. Let every one be doing as I am, to the best of his power, let
+every one be haunted to fever-point by the obsession of the personal
+service which it is his duty to render to the country; and, if war
+breaks out, you shall see how a great nation can take its revenge!"
+
+"And suppose we are beaten, in spite of all?" Philippe asked again.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+Old Morestal turned to his son as though he had received a blow; and a
+rush of blood inflamed his features. He looked Philippe in the face:
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+Philippe had an inkling of the conflict that would hurl them one against
+the other if he dared to state his objections more minutely. And he
+uttered words at random:
+
+"Of course, the supposition is not one of those which we can
+entertain.... But, all the same ... don't you think we ought to face the
+possibility?..."
+
+"Face the possibility of defeat?" echoed the old man, who seemed
+thunderstruck. "Are you suggesting that the fear of that ought to
+influence France in her conduct?"
+
+A diversion relieved Philippe of his difficulty. Some one had appeared
+from the staircase at the end of the terrace and in so noisy a fashion
+that Morestal did not wait for his son to reply:
+
+"Is that you, Saboureux? What a row you're making!"
+
+It was Farmer Saboureux, whose house could be seen on the Col du Diable.
+He was accompanied by an old, ragged tramp.
+
+Saboureux had come to complain. Some soldiers taking part in the
+manoeuvres had helped themselves to two of his chickens and a duck. He
+seemed beside himself, furious at the catastrophe:
+
+"Only, I've a witness in old Poussiere here. And I want an indemnity,
+not to speak of damages and punishment. I call it a calamity, I do:
+soldiers of our own country!... I'm a good Frenchman, but, all the same
+..."
+
+Morestal was too much absorbed in the discussion of his favourite ideas
+to take the least interest in the man's troubles; and the farmer's
+presence, on the contrary, seemed to him an excellent reason for
+returning to the subject in hand. They had other things to talk about
+than chickens and ducks! What about the chances of war? And the alarming
+rumours that were current?
+
+"What do you say, Saboureux?"
+
+The farmer presented the typical appearance of those peasants whom we
+sometimes find in the eastern provinces and who, with their stern,
+clean-shaven faces, like the faces on ancient medals, remind us of our
+Roman ancestors rather than of the Gauls or Francs. He had marched to
+battle in 1870 with the others, perishing with hunger and wretchedness,
+risking his skin. And, on his return, he had found his shanty reduced to
+ashes. Some passing Uhlans.... Since that time, he had laboured hard to
+repair the harm done.
+
+"And you want it all over again?" he said. "More Uhlans burning and
+sacking?... Oh, no, I've had enough of that game! You just let me be as
+I am!"
+
+He was filled with the small land-owner's hatred against all those,
+Frenchmen or others, who were likely to tread with a sacrilegious foot
+on the sown earth, where the harvest is so slow in coming. He crossed
+his arms, with a serious air.
+
+"And you, Poussiere, what would you say if we went to war?" asked
+Morestal, calling to the old tramp, who was sitting on the parapet of
+the terrace, breaking a crust.
+
+The man was lean and wizened, twisted like a vine-shoot, with long,
+dust-coloured hair and a melancholy, impassive face that seemed carved
+out of old oak. He put in an appearance at Saint-Elophe once every three
+or four months. He knocked at the doors of the houses and then went off
+again.
+
+"What country do you belong to, to begin with?"
+
+He grunted:
+
+"Don't know much about it ... it's so long ago...."
+
+"Which do you like best? France, eh? The roads on this side?"
+
+The old chap swung his legs without answering, perhaps without
+understanding. Saboureux grinned:
+
+"He doesn't look at the roads, not he! He doesn't as much as know if he
+belongs to the country on the right or on the left! His country lies
+where the grub lies ... eh, Poussiere?"
+
+Thereupon, seized with sudden ill-humour, Morestal lost his temper and
+let fly at the lukewarm, at the indifferent--working-men, townsmen or
+farmers--who think only of their comfort, without caring whether the
+country is humiliated or victorious. But what else could one expect,
+with the detestable ideas spread by some of the newspapers and carried
+to the furthermost ends of the country in the books and pamphlets hawked
+about by travelling agents?
+
+"Yes," he cried, "the new ideas: those are the evil that is destroying
+us. The school-masters are poisoning the minds of the young. The very
+army is smitten with the canker. Whole regiments are on the verge of
+mutiny...."
+
+He turned a questioning glance upon Philippe, who, from time to time,
+nodded his head without replying, with a movement which his father might
+take for one of approval.
+
+"Isn't it so, Philippe? You see the thing close at hand, where you are:
+all those poltroons who weaken our energies with their fine dreams of
+peace at any price! You hear them, all the wind-bags at the public
+meetings, who preach their loathsome crusade against the army and the
+country with open doors and are backed up by our rulers.... And that's
+only speaking of the capital!... Why, the very provinces haven't escaped
+the contagion!... Here, have you read this abomination?"
+
+He took a little volume in a violet wrapper from among the papers heaped
+up on his table and held it before his son's eyes. And he continued:
+
+"_Peace before All!_ No author's name. A book that's all the more
+dangerous because it's very well written, not by one of those wind-bags
+to whom I was referring just now, but by a scholar, a provincial and,
+what's more, a Frenchman from the frontier. He seems even to bear our
+name ... some distant cousin, no doubt: the Morestals are a large
+family."
+
+"Are you sure?" blurted Philippe, who had turned pale at the sight of
+the pamphlet. "How do you know?"
+
+"Oh, by accident.... A letter which was addressed to me and which said,
+'All good wishes for the success of your pamphlet, my dear Morestal.'"
+
+Philippe remembered. He was to have gone to the Old Mill last year; and
+the letter must have been sent to him by one of his friends.
+
+"And haven't you tried to find out?"
+
+"What for? Because I have a scoundrel in my family, that's no reason
+why I should be in a hurry to make his acquaintance! Besides, he himself
+has had the decency not to put his name to his scurrilous nonsense....
+No matter: if ever I lay my hands on him!... But don't let's talk of
+it...."
+
+He continued to talk of it, nevertheless, and at great length, as well
+as of all the questions of war and peace, history and politics that came
+to his mind. It was not until he had "got his budget off his chest," as
+he said, that he exclaimed, suddenly:
+
+"Enough of this palavering, my friends! Why, it's four o'clock!
+Saboureux, I'm your man.... So they've been making free with your
+poultry, have they? Are you coming, Jorance? We'll see some fine
+soldier-chaps making their soup. There's nothing jollier and livelier
+than a French camp!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE
+
+
+Marthe and Suzanne were very intimate, in spite of the difference in
+their ages. Marthe was full of indulgent kindness for her friend, whom
+she had known as quite a child, motherless and left to herself; whereas
+Suzanne was less even-tempered with Marthe, now gushing and coaxing, now
+aggressive and satirical, but always full of charm.
+
+When Marthe had finished unfastening the trunks, Suzanne herself
+insisted on emptying the travelling-bag and arranging on the table all
+the little things with which one tries, when away, to give one's room a
+look of home: portraits of the children, writing-cases, favourite
+books....
+
+"You'll be very snug here, Marthe," she said. "It's a nice, light room
+... and there's only a dressing-room between you and Philippe.... But
+how did you come to want two bedrooms?"
+
+"It was Philippe. He was afraid of disturbing me in the mornings...."
+
+"Oh," repeated the girl. "It was Philippe's suggestion...."
+
+Then she took up one of the photographs and examined it:
+
+"How like his father your son Jacques is!... Much more so than Paul ...
+don't you think?"
+
+Marthe came to the table and, bending over her friend, looked at the
+picture with those mother's eyes which seem to see in the inanimate
+image the life, the smile and the beauty of the absent one.
+
+"Which do you like best, Jacques or Paul?" asked Suzanne.
+
+"What a question! If you were a mother...."
+
+"If I were a mother, I should like that one best who reminded me most of
+my husband. The other would make me suspect that my husband had ceased
+to love me...."
+
+"You put down everything to love, my poor Suzanne! Do you imagine that
+there is nothing in the world but love?"
+
+"There are heaps of other things. But you yourself, Marthe: wouldn't you
+like love to fill a greater place in your life?"
+
+This was said with a certain sarcasm, of which Marthe felt the sting.
+But, before she had time to retort, Philippe appeared in the doorway.
+
+Suzanne at once cried:
+
+"We were talking about you, Philippe."
+
+He made no reply. He went to the window, closed it and then came back to
+the two young women. Suzanne pointed to a chair beside her, but he sat
+down by Marthe; and Marthe saw by his look that something had happened:
+
+"Have you spoken to him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Still ..."
+
+He told her, in a few sentences, of the conversation, with the incident
+of the pamphlet and the words which his father had spoken against the
+author of that work. He repeated the words, a second time, with
+increasing bitterness. Then he stopped, reflected and, pressing his
+clenched fists to his temples, said, slowly, as though he were
+explaining matters to himself:
+
+"It's three years now that this has lasted ... ever since his letter on
+my appointment, in which he wrote about my second book on the idea of
+country. Perhaps I ought to have written to him then and there and told
+him of the evolution of my mind and the tremendous change which the
+study of history and of vanished civilizations had wrought in me."
+
+"Perhaps it would have been better," said Marthe.
+
+"I was afraid to. I was afraid of hurting him.... It would have hurt him
+so terribly!... And my love for him is so great!... And then, Marthe,
+you see, the ideas which he defends and of which, in my eyes, he is the
+living and splendid incarnation are so beautiful in themselves that,
+after one has ceased to share them, one continues, for a long time, for
+always, to retain a sort of involuntary affection for them, deep down in
+one's inner self. They constituted the greatness of our country for
+centuries. They are vigorous, like everything that is religious and
+pure. One feels a renegade at losing them; and any word spoken against
+them sounds like blasphemy. How could I say to my father, 'Those ideas,
+which you gave me and which were the life of my youth, I have ceased to
+hold. Yes, I have ceased to think as you do. My love of humanity does
+not stop at the boundaries of the country in which I was born; and I do
+not hate those who are on the other side of the frontier. I am one of
+those men who will not have war, who will not have it at any price and
+who would give their life-blood to save the world the horror of that
+scourge.' How could I say such things as that to my father?"
+
+He rose and, pacing the room, continued:
+
+"I did not say them. I concealed the true state of my mind, as though I
+were hiding a shameful sore. At the meetings, in the newspapers to which
+I contribute by stealth, to my adversaries and to the majority of the
+men on my own side I was M. Philippe, denying my name and my
+personality, setting a bad example to those who are silent for
+prudence' sake and for fear of compromising themselves. I do not sign
+the pamphlets which I write; and the book in which I give the conclusion
+of my work has been ready for more than a year, without my daring to
+publish it. Well, that's over now. I can't go on as I have been doing.
+Silence is choking me. By humbling myself, I lower my ideals. I must
+speak aloud, in the hearing of all men. I will speak."
+
+He had gradually become animated, excited by his own words. His voice
+had increased in volume. His face expressed the glowing, irresistible,
+often blind enthusiasm of those who devote themselves to generous
+causes. And, yielding to a need to speak out which was anything but
+frequent with him, he went on:
+
+"You don't know, you don't know what it means to a man to be fired with
+a great idea ... whether it be love of humanity, hatred of war or any
+other beautiful illusion. It lights us and leads us. It is our pride and
+our faith. We seem to have a second life, the real life, that belongs to
+it, and an unknown heart that beats for it alone. And we are prepared to
+suffer any sacrifice, any pain, any wretchedness, any insult ...
+provided that it gain the day."
+
+Suzanne listened to him with obvious admiration. Marthe appeared
+uneasy. Knowing Philippe's nature thoroughly, she was well aware that,
+in thus letting himself go, he was not only being carried away by a
+flood of eloquent words.
+
+He opened the window and drew a deep breath of the pure air which he
+loved. Then he returned and added:
+
+"We are even prepared to sacrifice those around us."
+
+Marthe felt all the importance which he attached to this little
+sentence; and, after a moment, she said:
+
+"Are you referring to me?"
+
+"Yes," said Philippe.
+
+"But you know, Philippe, that, when I agreed to marry you, I agreed to
+share your life, whatever it might be."
+
+"My life as it looked like being, but not as I shall be compelled to
+make it."
+
+She looked at him with a glimmer of apprehension. For some time now, she
+had noticed that he was even less communicative than usual, that he
+hardly ever spoke of his plans and that he no longer told her what he
+was working at.
+
+"How do you mean, Philippe?" she asked.
+
+He took a sealed letter from his pocket and showed her the address:
+
+"_To the Minister of Public Instruction._"
+
+"What is in that letter?" asked Marthe.
+
+"My resignation."
+
+"Your resignation! The resignation of your professorship?"
+
+"Yes. I shall send this letter the moment I have confessed everything to
+my father. I did not like to tell you before, for fear of your
+objections.... But I was wrong.... It is necessary that you should
+know...."
+
+"I don't understand," she stammered. "I don't understand...."
+
+"Yes, you do, Marthe: you understand. The ideas which have taken
+possession of me little by little and to which I want to devote myself
+without reserve are dangerous for young brains to listen to. They form
+the belief of an age for which I call with might and main, but it is not
+the belief of to-day; and I have no right to teach it to the children
+entrusted to my care."
+
+She was on the verge--thinking of her own children, whose well-being and
+whose future were about to suffer through this decision--she was on the
+verge of exclaiming:
+
+"Why need you shout it from the house-tops? Stifle your vain scruples
+and go on teaching what you find in the manuals and school-books."
+
+But she knew that he was like those priests who prefer to incur poverty
+and opprobrium rather than preach a religion which they no longer
+believe.
+
+And she simply said:
+
+"I do not share all your opinions, Philippe. There are even some that
+terrify me ... especially those which I do not know, but which I half
+suspect. But, whatever the goal to which you are leading us, I will walk
+to it with my eyes closed."
+
+"And ... so far ... you approve?"
+
+"Entirely. You must act according to your conscience, send that letter
+and, first of all, tell your father everything. Who knows? Perhaps he
+will admit ..."
+
+"Never!" exclaimed Philippe. "Men who look into the future can still
+understand the beliefs of former days, because those were their own
+beliefs when they were young. But men who cling to the past cannot
+accept ideas which they do not understand and which clash with their
+feelings and with their instincts."
+
+"So ...?"
+
+"So we shall quarrel and cause each other pain; and the thought of it
+distresses me infinitely."
+
+He sat down, with a movement of weariness. She leant over him:
+
+"Do not lose courage. I am sure that things will turn out better than
+you think. Wait a few days.... There is no hurry; and you will have time
+to see ... to prepare...."
+
+"Everything turns out well when you speak," he said, smiling and
+allowing himself to be caressed.
+
+"Unfortunately ..."
+
+He did not finish his sentence. He saw Suzanne opposite him, glaring at
+the pair of them. She was ghastly pale; and her mouth was wrung with a
+terrible expression of pain and hatred. He felt that she was ready to
+fling herself upon them and proclaim her rage aloud.
+
+He released himself quickly and, making an effort to jest:
+
+"Tush!" he said. "Time will show.... Enough of these jeremiads: what say
+you, Suzanne?... Suppose you saw to putting away my things?... Is
+everything done?"
+
+Marthe was surprised at the abrupt change in his manner. However, she
+replied:
+
+"There are only your papers; and I always prefer you to arrange them
+yourself."
+
+"Come on, then," he said, gaily.
+
+Marthe walked through the dressing-room to her husband's bedroom.
+Philippe was about to follow her and his foot touched the door-sill when
+Suzanne darted in front of him and barred the way with her outstretched
+arms.
+
+It happened so suddenly that he uttered a slight exclamation. Marthe
+asked, from the further room:
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Nothing," said Suzanne. "We're coming."
+
+Philippe tried to pass. She pushed him back violently and with such a
+look of her eyes that he yielded at once.
+
+They watched each other for a few seconds, like two enemies. Philippe
+fumed:
+
+"Well? What does all this mean? Do you propose to keep me here
+indefinitely?..."
+
+She came nearer to him and, in a voice that shook with restraint and
+implacable energy:
+
+"I shall expect you this evening.... It's quite easy.... You can get
+out.... I shall be outside my door at eleven."
+
+He was petrified:
+
+"You are mad!..."
+
+"No.... But I want to see you ... to speak to you ... I must ... I am
+suffering more than I can bear.... It's enough to kill me."
+
+Her eyes were full of tears, her chin seemed convulsed with spasms, her
+lips trembled.
+
+Philippe's anger was mingled with a little pity; and, above all, he felt
+the need of putting an end to the scene as quickly as possible:
+
+"Look here, baby, look here!" he said, employing an expression which he
+often used to her.
+
+"You will come ... you must come ... that is why I stayed.... One hour,
+one hour of your presence!... If you don't, I shall come here, I shall
+indeed.... I don't care what happens!"
+
+He had retreated to the window. Instinctively, he looked to see if it
+was possible to climb over the balcony and jump. It would have been
+absurd.
+
+But, as he bent forward, he saw his wife, two windows further, lean out
+and catch sight of him. He had to smile, to conceal his perturbation;
+and nothing could be more hateful to him than this comedy which a
+child's whims were compelling him to play.
+
+"You're quite pale," said Marthe.
+
+"Do you think so? I'm a little tired, I suppose. You too, you are
+looking ..."
+
+She broke in:
+
+"I thought I saw your father."
+
+"Is he back?"
+
+"Yes, there he is, at the end of the garden, with M. Jorance. They are
+making signs to you."
+
+Morestal and his friend were climbing up beside the waterfall and waving
+their hands to attract Philippe's attention. When he came under the
+windows, Morestal cried:
+
+"This is what we have arranged, Philippe. You and I are dining at
+Jorance's."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"There's no but about it; we'll explain why. I'll have the carriage got
+ready and Jorance will go ahead with Suzanne."
+
+"What about Marthe?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Marthe can come if she likes. Come down here. We'll fix it all up."
+
+When Philippe turned round, Suzanne was standing close against him:
+
+"You'll come, won't you?" she said, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, if Marthe does."
+
+"Even if Marthe doesn't ... I insist ... I insist.... Oh, Philippe, I
+implore you, don't drive me to extremities!"
+
+He was afraid of an outburst:
+
+"As a matter of fact," he said, "why shouldn't I come? It's quite
+natural that I should dine at your house with my father."
+
+"Do you mean it?" she murmured. "Will you really come?"
+
+She seemed suddenly calmed; and her face assumed a look of childish
+delight:
+
+"Oh, how happy I am!... How happy I am! My beautiful dream will be
+fulfilled.... We shall walk together in the dark, without speaking a
+word.... And I shall never forget that hour.... Nor you either, Philippe
+... nor you either...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SHEET OF NOTE-PAPER
+
+
+A hand was passed through the bars of the gate at the top of the
+staircase leading to the terrace and seized the clapper of the little
+bell fastened to one of the bars. A push ... and the gate was open.
+
+"Not much difficulty about that," said the man, carefully stepping on to
+the terrace. "Since the mountain won't come to Dourlowski, Dourlowski
+must ..."
+
+The man stopped: he had heard voices. But, on listening, he found that
+the sound of voices came from behind the house. He quietly entered the
+drawing-room, therefore, walked straight across it and reached the
+windows on the other side. A little further, at the foot of the steps,
+he saw a carriage ready to start, with Suzanne and her father sitting in
+it. The Morestal family were standing round the carriage.
+
+"That's all right," said Morestal. "Philippe and I will walk ... and
+we'll do the same coming home, won't we, my boy?"
+
+"And you, Marthe?" asked Jorance.
+
+"No, thank you. I will stay with mamma."
+
+"Well, we'll send your men home to you soon ... especially as Morestal
+likes going to bed early. They will leave the house at ten o'clock
+precisely; and I will go a bit of the way with them, as far as the
+Butte."
+
+"That's it," said Morestal. "We shall see the demolished post by
+moonlight. And we shall be here by half-past ten, mother. That's a
+promise. Off you go, Victor."
+
+The carriage drove off. Dourlowski, in the drawing-room, took out his
+watch and set it by the clock, whispering:
+
+"Consequently, they'll reach the Butte at a quarter past ten. That's a
+good thing to know. And now to inform old Morestal that his friend
+Dourlowski has come to hunt him up in his happy home."
+
+Putting two of his fingers to his mouth, he gave the same faint whistle
+which Morestal had heard that morning, something like the unfinished
+note of certain birds:
+
+"That's done it," he grinned. "The old boy pricked up his ears. He has
+sent the others for a stroll in the garden and he's coming this way...."
+
+He made a movement backwards on hearing Morestal's footstep in the hall,
+for he knew the old fellow was not given to joking. And, in fact,
+Morestal, the moment he entered, ran up to him and took him by the
+collar of his jacket:
+
+"What are you doing here? What do you mean by it? How dare you?... I'll
+show you a road which you don't know of!"
+
+Dourlowski began to laugh with his crooked mouth:
+
+"My dear M. Morestal, you'll dirty your hands."
+
+His clothes were shiny and thick with grease, stretched over a small
+round body, that contrasted strangely with his lean and bony face. And
+all this formed a jovial, grotesque and rather alarming picture.
+
+Morestal let go his hold and, in an imperative tone:
+
+"Explain yourself and quickly. I don't want my son to see you here.
+Speak."
+
+There was no time to be lost, as Dourlowski saw:
+
+"Well, look here," he said. "It's a question of a young soldier in the
+Boersweilen garrison. He's too unhappy for words where he is ... and he's
+mad at having to serve Germany."
+
+"A ne'er-do-well," growled Morestal. "A slacker who doesn't want to
+work."
+
+"No, not this one, I tell you, not this one. He means to enlist in the
+Foreign Legion. He loves France."
+
+"Yes, always the same story. And then--pah!--one never hears of them
+again. More gallows' seed!"
+
+Dourlowski seemed shocked and scandalized:
+
+"How can you say such a thing, M. Morestal?... If you only knew! A brave
+soldier who asks nothing better than to die fighting for our country."
+
+The old man started:
+
+"'Our country,' indeed! I forbid you to speak like that. Have you the
+least idea where you hail from? A scamp like you has no country."
+
+"You forget all that I have done, M. Morestal.... You and I, between us,
+have 'passed' four of them already."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Morestal, who seemed to take no pleasure in
+this recollection. "Hold your tongue.... If the thing had never happened
+..."
+
+"It would happen just the same, because you are a good-natured man and
+because there are things.... There.... It's like with this lad.... It
+would break your heart to see him.... Johann Baufeld his name is.... His
+father is just dead ... and he wants to go out to his mother, who was
+divorced and who lives in Algeria.... Such a nice lad, full of
+pluck...."
+
+"Well," said Morestal, "he's only got to 'pass'! You don't want me for
+that."
+
+"And what about the money? He hasn't a sou. Besides, there's no one
+like you to tell us all the paths, the best place to cross at, the best
+time to select...."
+
+"I'll see about it.... I'll see about it," said Morestal. "There's no
+hurry...."
+
+"Yes, there is...."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The Boersweilen regiment is manoeuvring on the slopes of the Vosges.
+If you'll lend us a hand, I'll run down to Saint-Elophe first, buy a
+suit of second-hand French peasant's clothes and go and find my man.
+Then I'll bring him to the old barn in your little farm to-night ... as
+I have done before...."
+
+"Where is he at this moment?"
+
+"His company is quartered in the Albern Woods."
+
+"But that's next door to the frontier!" cried Morestal. "An hour's walk,
+no more."
+
+"Just so; but how he is to reach the frontier? Where is he to cross it?"
+
+"That's quite easy," said Morestal, taking up a pencil and a sheet of
+note-paper. "Look, here are the Albern Woods. Here's the Col du Diable.
+Here's the Butte-aux-Loups.... Well, he's only got to leave the woods by
+the Fontaine-Froide and take the first path to the left, by the Roche de
+..."
+
+He suddenly interrupted himself, looked at Dourlowski with a suspicious
+air and said:
+
+"But you know the road as well as I do ... there's no doubt about
+that.... So ..."
+
+"My word," said Dourlowski, "I always go by the Col du Diable and the
+factory."
+
+Morestal reflected for a moment, scribbled a few lines and a few words
+in an absent-minded sort of way and then, with a movement of quick
+resolution, took the sheet of note-paper, crumpled it into a ball and
+flung it into the waste-paper basket:
+
+"No, no, certainly not!" he cried. "I've had enough of this nonsense!
+One succeeds four times; and, at the fifth attempt.... Besides, it's not
+a business I care about.... A soldier's a soldier ... whatever uniform
+he wears...."
+
+"Still ..." mumbled Dourlowski.
+
+"I refuse. Not to mention that they suspect me over yonder. The German
+commissary gives me a queer look when he meets me; and I won't risk ..."
+
+"You're risking nothing."
+
+"That'll do; and clear out of this as fast as you can.... Oh, wait a
+second!... I think I ... Listen ..."
+
+Morestal ran to the windows overlooking the garden. Quick as thought,
+Dourlowski stooped and fished Morestal's crumpled sheet out of the
+waste-paper basket. He hid it in the palm of his hand and, raising his
+voice:
+
+"We'll say no more about it, as you don't see your way to help me," he
+said. "I give it up."
+
+"That's it," said Morestal, who had seen no one in the garden. "You give
+it up, my friend: it's the best thing you can do."
+
+He took Dourlowski by the shoulders and pushed him towards the terrace:
+
+"Be off ... and don't come back.... There's nothing more for you to do
+here ... absolutely nothing...."
+
+He hoped to get rid of the fellow without being perceived, but, as he
+reached the gate, he saw his wife, his son and Marthe come up the
+staircase, after strolling round the walls of the Old Mill.
+
+Dourlowski took off his hat and distributed bows all round. Then, as
+soon as the road was clear, he disappeared.
+
+Mme. Morestal expressed her astonishment:
+
+"What! Do you still see that rogue of a Dourlowski?"
+
+"Oh, it was an accident!..."
+
+"You are very wrong to have him in the house. We don't even know where
+he comes from or what his trade is."
+
+"He's a hawker."
+
+"A spy, rather: that's what they say about him."
+
+"Tah! In the pay of which country?"
+
+"Of both, very likely. Victor thinks he saw him with the German
+commissary, two Sundays ago."
+
+"With Weisslicht? Impossible. He doesn't even know him."
+
+"I'm telling you what they say. In any case, Morestal, be careful with
+that fellow. He's a bird of ill-omen."
+
+"Come, come, mother, no hard words. This is a day of rejoicing.... Are
+you ready, Philippe?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PLASTER STATUE
+
+
+There were several ways leading to Saint-Elophe. First of all, the
+high-road, which goes winding down a slope some two miles long; next, a
+few rather steep short cuts; and, lastly, further north, the
+forest-path, part of which skirts the ridge of the Vosges.
+
+"Let's go by the road, shall we?" said Morestal to his son.
+
+And, as soon as they had started, he took Philippe's arm and said,
+gleefully:
+
+"Only think, my boy, at the camp, just now, we met one of the
+lieutenants of the manoeuvring company. We talked about the Saboureux
+business and, this evening, he is going to introduce us to his captain,
+who happens to be a nephew of General Daspry, commanding the army-corps.
+So I shall tell him what I have done at the Old Mill, you see; he will
+report it to his uncle Daspry; and Fort Morestal will be listed at
+once...."
+
+He beamed with delight, held his head high and flung out his chest,
+while, with his free hand, he made warlike flourishes with his cane.
+Once he even halted and placed himself on guard and stamped his foot on
+the ground:
+
+"Three appels ... Engage ... Lunge! What do you say to that, Philippe,
+eh? Old Morestal is game yet!"
+
+Philippe, full of affection for the old man, smiled. Now that he was
+acting on Marthe's advice and delaying the painful explanation, life
+seemed better to him, quite simple and quite easy, and he surrendered
+himself to the pleasure of seeing his father again and the scenes which
+he loved and renewing the childhood memories that seemed to await him at
+every turn of the road and to rise up at his approach:
+
+"Do you remember, father? This is where I fell off my bicycle.... I was
+standing under that tree when it was struck by lightning...."
+
+They stopped, recalled all the circumstances of the event and set off
+again, arm in arm.
+
+And, a little further, Morestal took up the thread:
+
+"And over there, do you remember? That's where you killed your first
+rabbit ... with a catapult! Ah, even in those days you promised to be a
+good shot ... the best at Saint-Elophe, as I live!... But I was
+forgetting: you have given up your gun! A fellow of your build! Why,
+sport, my boy, is the great apprenticeship for war!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+Saint-Elophe-la-Cote, once a flourishing little town, had never quite
+recovered from the wounds earned by its heroism during the war. It stood
+crowding round an old ruined castle which became visible at the last
+turn in the road. Nevertheless, situated on the borders of the
+department, at twelve or thirteen miles from Noirmont, the
+sub-prefecture, it owed a certain importance to its position near the
+frontier, facing the German garrisons, whose increasing activity was
+becoming a subject of uneasiness and had led to Jorance's appointment as
+special commissary.
+
+Jorance, the first holder of this newly-created office, lived at the
+other end of the village and a little way outside it, in a low-storeyed
+house which had been greatly improved by Suzanne's good taste and fancy.
+It was surrounded by a garden with arbours and quaintly-clipped old
+trees and a clear, winding stream that flowed under the very doorstep.
+
+It was nearly dark when Morestal entered, accompanied by Philippe.
+Everything was ready for their reception: the table was laid in a room
+hung with bright stuffs; flowers were scattered over the cloth; two
+lamps shed a calm and even light; and Suzanne sat smiling, happy and
+charming.
+
+All this was very simple. And yet Philippe received the impression that
+special pains had been taken on his account. It was he who was expected;
+he was the master who was to be conquered and chained with invisible
+bonds. He felt sure of this; and Suzanne told him as much throughout
+dinner, with her fond glances, her attentive movements, her whole person
+bending towards him.
+
+"I ought not to have come," he thought. "No, I ought not to have."
+
+And, each time that he met Suzanne's eyes, he called to mind his wife's
+discreet manner and her thoughtful air.
+
+"How absorbed you are, Philippe!" cried Morestal, who had never ceased
+talking while eating. "And you, Suzanne, what are you thinking about?
+Your future husband?"
+
+"Not I!" she replied, without the least embarrassment. "I was thinking
+of those months I spent in Paris last winter. How good you were to me,
+Philippe! I remember the walks we used to take!..."
+
+They spoke of those walks; and, little by little, Philippe was surprised
+to realize the extent to which their lives had been mingled during that
+stay. Marthe, retained by her household duties, used to remain at home,
+while they two escaped, like a couple of free and careless play-fellows.
+They visited the museums and churches of Paris, the little towns and
+castles of the Ile-de-France. An intimacy sprang up between them. And
+now it confused him to find Suzanne at once so near to him and so far,
+so near as a friend, so far as a woman.
+
+When dinner was over, he moved round to his father. Morestal, eager to
+go and keep his appointment with Captain Daspry, stood up:
+
+"Are you coming with us, Philippe?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+The three men took their hats and sticks; but, when they reached the
+hall-door, after a whispered colloquy with Jorance, Morestal said to his
+son:
+
+"On second thoughts, it's better that we should go alone. The interview
+must remain as secret as possible; and we shall be less easy if there
+are three of us...."
+
+"Besides," added the special commissary, "you may just as well keep
+Suzanne company: it is her last evening. Good-bye for the present,
+children. You can be sure that the two conspirators will be back when
+the belfry-clock strikes ten, eh, Morestal?"
+
+They went off, leaving Philippe not a little perplexed.
+
+Suzanne burst out laughing:
+
+"My poor Philippe, you look very uncomfortable. Come, cheer up! I
+sha'n't eat you, I promise you!"
+
+"No, I don't expect you will," he said, laughing in his turn. "But, all
+the same, it's strange ..."
+
+"All the same, it's strange," she said, completing the sentence, "that
+we should take a walk round the garden together, as I asked you. You
+will have to make the best of a bad job. Here comes the harmless,
+necessary moonlight."
+
+The moon emerged slowly from the great clouds stacked around a
+mountain-crest; and its light cast the regular shadows of the yews and
+fir-trees on the lawns. The weather was heavy with approaching storms. A
+warm breeze wafted the perfumes of plants and grass.
+
+Three times, they followed the outer path, along a hedge and along a
+wall. They said nothing; and this silence, which he found it impossible
+to break, filled Philippe with remorse. At that moment, he experienced a
+feeling of aversion for that capricious and unreasonable little girl,
+who had brought about those compromising minutes between them.
+Unaccustomed to women and always rather shy in their company, he
+suspected her of some mysterious design.
+
+"Let's go over there," said Suzanne, pointing to the middle of the
+garden, where the shadows seemed to gather round a thick clump of
+shrubs and hornbeams.
+
+They made for the place through an arcade of verdure which brought them
+to a short flight of steps. It was a sunk amphitheatre, surrounded by a
+stone balustrade, with a small pond in the middle and, opposite, in a
+leafy frame, a female statue, with a moonbeam quivering upon it. A musty
+smell arose from this old-fashioned spot.
+
+"Venus or Minerva? Corinne perhaps?" said Philippe, joking to conceal
+his uneasiness. "I confess I can't quite make out. What is she wearing:
+a peplum or an Empire frock? And is that a helmet or a turban on her
+head?"
+
+"It depends," said Suzanne.
+
+"How do you mean? What upon?"
+
+"Yes, it depends upon my humour. When I'm good and sensible, she's
+Minerva. When I look at her with a yearning heart, she becomes Venus.
+And she is also, according to the mood of the moment, the goddess of
+madness ... and the goddess of tears ... and the goddess of death."
+
+She spoke with a playfulness that saddened Philippe. He asked:
+
+"And what is she the goddess of to-day?"
+
+"The goddess of farewell."
+
+"Of farewell?"
+
+"Yes, farewell to Suzanne Jorance, to the girl who has come here every
+day, for the last five years, and who will never come here again."
+
+She leant against the statue:
+
+"My dear goddess, what dreams we two have had, you and I! We used to
+wait together. For whom? For the Blue Bird ... for Prince Charming. The
+prince was to arrive on horseback, one day, jump the garden-wall and
+carry me off, slung across his saddle. He was to slip through the trees,
+one evening, and go up the steps on his knees, sobbing. And all the vows
+I made to my dear goddess! Just think, Philippe: I promised her never to
+bring a man into her presence unless I loved him! And I kept my promise.
+You are the first, Philippe."
+
+He flushed red in the dark; and she continued, in a voice the gaiety of
+which rang false:
+
+"If you only knew how silly a girl is, dreaming and vowing things! Why,
+I even promised her that that man and I should exchange our first kiss
+before her. Isn't it ridiculous? Poor goddess! She will never see that
+kiss of love; for, after all, I don't suppose you intend to kiss me?"
+
+"Suzanne!"
+
+"Well, did you? There's no reason why you should; and the whole thing's
+absurd. So you will admit that this dear goddess has no sense and that
+she deserves to be punished."
+
+With a quick movement of the arm, she gave a push to the statue, which
+fell to the ground and broke into halves.
+
+"What are you doing?" he cried.
+
+"Leave me alone ... leave me alone," said Suzanne, in an angry voice.
+
+It was as though her action had loosed in her a long-contained fury and
+wicked instincts which she was no longer able to control. She rushed
+forwards and madly kicked and raged at the broken pieces of the statue.
+
+He tried to interfere and took her by the arm. She turned upon him:
+
+"I won't have you touch me!... It's your fault.... Let me go ... I hate
+you!... Yes, it's all your fault!..."
+
+And, releasing herself from his grasp, she fled towards the house.
+
+The scene had not lasted twenty seconds.
+
+"Hang it!" snarled Philippe, though he was not in the habit of swearing.
+
+His irritation was so great that, if the poor plaster goddess had not
+already been reduced to fragments, he would certainly have flung her
+from her pedestal. But, above all things, he was swayed by one idea: to
+go away, not to see Suzanne again and to have done with this nonsense,
+of which he felt all the hatefulness and absurdity.
+
+He also quickly made his way back to the house. Unfortunately, knowing
+no other outlet by which to escape, he went through the passage. The
+dining-room door was open. He saw the girl sitting huddled in a chair,
+with her head between her hands, sobbing.
+
+He did not know how artificial a woman's tears can be. Nor did he know
+the danger in those tears for him who is moved by the sight of their
+flowing. But, had he known it, he would just the same have stayed; for
+man's pity is infinite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+EVE TRIUMPHANT
+
+
+"There!" she said, after a few minutes. "The storm is over."
+
+She raised her beautiful face, now lit with a smile:
+
+"No black on my eye-lashes, you see," she added, gaily. "No rouge on my
+lips.... Take note, please.... Nothing that comes off!"
+
+This versatility of mood, the despair, which he had felt to be real,
+followed by a light-heartedness which he felt to be equally sincere; all
+this bewildered Philippe.
+
+She began to laugh:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe! You look as though you did not understand much
+about women ... and even less about girls!"
+
+She rose and went to the next room, which was her bedroom, as he saw by
+the white curtains and the arrangement of the furniture; and she
+returned with an album, in which she showed him, on the first page, the
+photograph of a child, crying:
+
+"Look, Philippe. I haven't changed. At two years old, just as now, I
+used to have great big sorrows and eyes that flowed like taps."
+
+He turned the pages of the album. There were portraits of Suzanne at all
+ages: Suzanne as a child, Suzanne as a little girl, Suzanne as a young
+girl; and each was more bewitching than the last.
+
+At the bottom of one page, he read:
+
+"_Suzanne, twenty._"
+
+"Lord, how pretty you were!" he muttered, dazed by that image of beauty
+and gladness.
+
+And he looked at Suzanne, in spite of himself.
+
+"I have grown older," she said. "Three long years...."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders without replying, for, on the contrary, he
+thought her lovelier still; and he turned the pages. Two loose
+photographs slipped to the floor. She put out her hand to take them, but
+did not complete the movement.
+
+"May I?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+He was much astonished when he examined one of the portraits:
+
+"This," he said, "makes you look older than you are.... How funny! And
+why that old-fashioned dress?... That quaint way of doing your hair....
+It's you ... and yet it's not you.... Who is it?"
+
+"Mamma," she said.
+
+He was surprised, knowing Jorance's persistent rancour, that he should
+have given his daughter the portrait of a mother whom she had been
+taught to believe long dead. And he remembered the riotous adventures of
+the divorced wife, now the beautiful Mme. de Glaris, who was celebrated
+in the chronicles of fast society for her dresses and her jewellery and
+whose photographs were displayed in the shop-windows of the Rue de
+Rivoli for the admiration of the passers-by.
+
+"Yes," he said, awkwardly and not quite knowing what he was saying,
+"yes, you are like her.... And is this also ...?"
+
+He suppressed a movement of astonishment. This time, he clearly
+recognized Suzanne's mother, or rather the Mme. de Glaris of the Rue de
+Rivoli, bare-shouldered, decked in her pearls and diamonds, shameless
+and magnificent.
+
+Suzanne, who kept her eyes raised to his face, did not speak; and they
+remained opposite each other, motionless and silent.
+
+"Does she know the truth?" Philippe asked himself. "No ... no ... it's
+not possible.... She must have bought this photograph, because of the
+likeness to herself which she saw in it, and she does not suspect
+anything...."
+
+But he was not satisfied with his surmise and he dared not question the
+girl, for fear of touching upon one of those mysterious griefs which
+become more acute when once they are no longer secret.
+
+She put the two portraits back in the album and locked the clasp with a
+little key. Then, after a long pause, laying her hand on Philippe's arm,
+she said to him, in words that corresponded strangely with the thoughts
+that troubled him:
+
+"Do not be angry with me, dear, and, above all, do not judge me too
+severely. There is a Suzanne in me whom I do not know well ... and who
+often frightens me.... She is capricious, jealous, wrong-headed, capable
+of anything ... yes, of anything.... The real Suzanne is good and
+sensible: 'You're _my_ daughter to-day,' papa used to say to me, when I
+was a little girl. And he said it in such a happy tone! But, the next
+day, I was his daughter no longer; and, struggle and fight as hard as I
+might, I could not become so again.... Things prevented me; and I used
+to cry because papa seemed to hate me.... And I wanted to be good....
+And I still want to and I always do.... But there is nothing in the
+world so hard ... because the other ... the other one does not want
+to.... And besides ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+She waited a moment, as though hesitating, and continued:
+
+"And, besides, what she wants, what the other Suzanne wants does not
+appear to me so very unreasonable. It is an immense longing to love
+somebody, but to love madly, boundlessly, to love too well.... Then it
+seems to me that life has no other object ... and all the rest bores
+me.... You know, Philippe, even when I was ever so small, that word love
+used to upset me. And, later ... and now, at certain times, I feel my
+brain going and all my soul seeking, waiting...."
+
+She hid her face again, as though seized with a sudden feeling of
+bashfulness, and Philippe saw, between her fingers, her crimson forehead
+and cheeks.
+
+His pity swelled within him. Through those desultory confidences, he saw
+Suzanne as she was, ignorant, ill-informed about herself and about the
+realities of life, troubled with desires which she took for unsatisfied
+feelings, torn by the implacable duel between contrary instincts and
+possessing nothing to counteract her woman's nature but a wayward and
+melancholy virtue.
+
+How good it would be to save her! He went up to her and, very gently,
+said:
+
+"You must get married, Suzanne."
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"There have been young men here who seemed to like me, but they always
+went away after a few days. One would almost think that they were afraid
+of me ... or that they had heard things ... against me.... Besides ... I
+didn't care for them.... It was not they ... that I was waiting for....
+It was somebody else.... And he did not come."
+
+He understood the irreparable words which she was about to utter and he
+ardently hoped that she would not utter them.
+
+Suzanne guessed his wish and was silent. But the avowal was so clear,
+even when unexpressed, that Philippe read all its passion in the long
+silence that followed. And Suzanne experienced a great joy, as though
+the indissoluble bond of words were linking them together. She added:
+
+"It was a little your fault, Philippe, and you felt it, in a way, at
+dinner. Yes, a little your fault.... In Paris, I lived a dangerous life
+beside you.... Just think, we were always together, always by ourselves,
+we two; and, for days at a time, I had the right to think that there was
+no one in the world but you and I. It was for me that you talked, it was
+to make me worthy of yourself that you explained things to me which I
+did not know, that you took me to see the beautiful sights in the
+churches, in the old towns.... And I, I was amazed. At what I was
+learning? Oh, no, Philippe, but at the new world that suddenly opened up
+to me. I did not listen to your words, but I listened to the sound of
+your voice. My eyes saw only your eyes. It was your admiration that I
+admired; your love for the beautiful was what I loved. All that you
+taught me to know ... and to love, Philippe, was ... yourself."
+
+Notwithstanding his inward rebellion, the words entered into Philippe's
+being like a caress; and he too almost forgot himself in the pleasure of
+listening to the sound of a soft voice and looking into eyes that are
+dear to one.
+
+He said, simply:
+
+"And Marthe?"
+
+She did not answer; and he felt that, like many women, she was
+indifferent to considerations of that sort. To them, love is a reason
+that excuses everything.
+
+Then, seeking to create a diversion, he repeated:
+
+"You must get married, Suzanne, you must. That is where your safety
+lies."
+
+"Oh, I know!" she said, wringing her hands in despair. "I know ... only
+..."
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"I haven't the strength to."
+
+"You must find the strength."
+
+"I can't.... I ought to have it given me. I ought to have ... oh,
+nothing very much, perhaps ... a little gladness ... a glad memory ...
+the thought that my life will not have been entirely wasted.... The
+thought that I too shall have had my spell of love.... But that short
+spell I ask for ... I beg for it, I pray for it."
+
+He blurted out:
+
+"You will find it in marriage, Suzanne."
+
+"No, no," she said, more bitterly, "only the man I love can give it to
+me.... I want, once at least, to feel a pair of arms around me, nothing
+but that, I assure you ... to lay my head on your shoulder and to remain
+like that, for an instant."
+
+She was so near to Philippe that the muslin of her bodice touched his
+clothes and he breathed the scent of her hair. He felt a mad temptation
+to take her in his arms. And it would have been a very small thing, as
+she had said: one of those moments of happiness which one plucks like a
+flower and remembers.
+
+She looked at him, not sadly now, nor resigned, but smiling, archly,
+with all the ingenious charm of the woman who is trying to conquer.
+
+He turned pale and murmured:
+
+"Suzanne, I am your friend. Be my friend, simply, and let your
+imagination ..."
+
+"You're afraid," she said.
+
+He tried to jest:
+
+"Afraid! Goodness gracious me, of what?"
+
+"Afraid of the one little affectionate action which I ask of you, the
+action of a brother kissing his sister. That's what you shrink from,
+Philippe."
+
+"I shrink from it because it is wrong and wicked," he declared, firmly.
+"That is the only reason."
+
+"No, Philippe, there is another reason."
+
+"Which is that?"
+
+"You love me."
+
+"I! I love you?... I!"
+
+"Yes, you, Philippe, you love me. And I defy you to look me in the face,
+to look me straight in the eyes and deny it."
+
+And, without giving him time to recover, she continued, bending over him
+eagerly:
+
+"You were in love with me, before I fell in love with you. It was your
+love that created mine. Don't protest, you have no right to do so now,
+for you know.... And I, I knew it from the first day. Oh, believe me, a
+woman is never mistaken.... Your eyes, when they looked at me, had a new
+look in them ... there, the look of just now. You have never looked like
+that at any woman, Philippe; not even at Marthe, ... no ... not even at
+her.... You never loved her, her nor the others. I was the first. Love
+was a thing unknown to you and you do not understand it yet ... and you
+sit there in front of me, nonplussed and dumbfoundered, because the
+truth appears to you and because you love me, Philippe, because you love
+me, my dear Philippe...."
+
+She clung to him, in an upheaval of hope and certainty, and he seemed
+not to resist.
+
+"You were afraid, Philippe. That is why you made up your mind not to see
+me again.... That is why you spoke so harshly to me just now.... You
+were afraid, because you love me.... Do you understand now?... Oh,
+Philippe, I should not have acted with you as I have done, if you did
+not love me.... I should never have had the presumption!... But I
+knew.... I knew ... and you don't deny it, do you?... Oh, how I
+suffered! My jealousy of Marthe!... To-day again, when she kissed
+you.... And the thought of going away without as much as saying good-bye
+to you!... And the thought of that marriage!... What a torture!... But
+it's over now, is it not? I shall suffer no more ... because you love
+me."
+
+She spoke these last words with a sort of timorous hesitation and
+without taking her eyes from Philippe's face, as though expecting him to
+give an answer that would calm the sudden anguish with which she was
+torn.
+
+He was silent. His eyes were dull, his forehead creased with wrinkles.
+He seemed to be reflecting and did not appear to reck that Suzanne was
+there so close to him, her arms clinging to his arms.
+
+She whispered:
+
+"Philippe.... Philippe...."
+
+Had he heard? He remained impassive. Then, little by little, Suzanne
+released her embrace. Her hands fell to her sides. She gazed with
+infinite distress upon the man she loved and, suddenly, sank into a
+heap, weeping:
+
+"Oh, I am mad!... I am mad! Why did I speak?"
+
+It was a horrible ordeal for her, after the hope that had excited her,
+and this time it was real tears that flowed down her cheeks. The sound
+of the sobs roused Philippe from his dream. He listened to it sadly and
+then began to pace the room. Moved though he was, what was passing
+within him troubled him even more. He loved Suzanne!
+
+It did not for a second occur to him to deny the truth. From the first
+sentences that Suzanne had spoken and without his having to seek for
+further proofs, he had admitted his love even as one admits the presence
+of a thing that one sees and touches. And that was why Suzanne, at the
+mere sight of Philippe's attitude, had suddenly realized the imprudence
+which she had committed in speaking: Philippe, once warned, was escaping
+her. He was one of those men who become conscious of their duty at the
+very moment when they perceive their fault.
+
+"Philippe!" she said, once more. "Philippe!"
+
+As he did not reply, she took his hand again and whispered:
+
+"You love me, though ... you love me.... Well, then, if you love me ..."
+
+The tears did not disfigure her exquisite face. On the contrary, grief
+decked her with a new, graver and more touching beauty. And she ended,
+ingenuously enough:
+
+"Then, if you love me, why do you repel me? Surely, when one loves, one
+does not repel the thing one loves.... And you love me...."
+
+The pretty mouth was all entreaty. Philippe observed its voluptuous
+action. It was as though the two lips delighted in uttering words of
+love and as though they could pronounce no others.
+
+He turned away his eyes to escape the fascination and, controlling
+himself, mastering his voice so that she might not perceive its tremor,
+he said:
+
+"It is just because I love you, Suzanne, that I am repulsing you ...
+because I love you too well...."
+
+The phrase implied a breach which she felt to be irreparable. She did
+not attempt to protest. It was finished. And she knew this so thoroughly
+that, a moment later, when Philippe opened the door and prepared to go
+away, she did not even raise her head.
+
+He did not go, however, for fear of offending her. He sat down. There
+was only a little table between them. But how far he was from her! And
+how it must surprise her that all her feminine wiles, her coquetry, the
+allurement of her lips were powerless to subjugate the will of that man
+who loved her!
+
+The belfry-clock struck ten. When Morestal and Jorance arrived, Suzanne
+and Philippe had not exchanged a single word.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+"Ready to start, Philippe?" cried Morestal. "Have you said good-bye to
+Suzanne?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"Yes, we have said good-bye."
+
+"Well, then it's my turn," he said, kissing her. "Jorance, it's settled
+that you're coming with us."
+
+"As far as the Butte-aux-Loups."
+
+"If you go as far as the Butte," said Suzanne to her father, "you may
+just as well go on to the Old Mill and come back by the high-road."
+
+"That's true. But are you staying behind, Suzanne?"
+
+She decided to see them out of Saint-Elophe. She quickly wrapped a silk
+scarf round her head:
+
+"Here I am," she said.
+
+The four of them walked off, along the sleeping streets of the little
+town, and Morestal at once began to comment on his interview with
+Captain Daspry. A very intelligent man, the captain, who had not failed
+to see the importance of the Old Mill as a block-house, to use his
+expression. But, from another point of view, he had given something of a
+shock to Morestal's opinions on the attitude which a French officer
+should maintain towards his inferiors.
+
+"Just imagine, Philippe: he refuses to punish the soldiers I told him
+about ... you know, the pillagers whom Saboureux complained of.... Well,
+he refuses to punish them ... even the leader of the band, one
+Duvauchel, a lover of every country but his own, who glories in his
+ideas, they say. Can you understand it? The rascal escapes with a fine
+of ten francs, an apology, a promise not to do it again and a lecture
+from his captain! And Mossieu Daspry pretends that, with kindness and
+patience, he succeeds in turning Duvauchel and fellows of his kidney
+into his best soldiers! What humbug! As though there were any way of
+taming those beggars, short of discipline! A pack of good-for-nothing
+scoundrels, who would fly across the frontier the moment the first shot
+was fired!"
+
+Philippe had instinctively slackened his pace. Suzanne was walking
+beside him; and, every now and then, by the light of an electric lamp,
+he saw the golden halo of her hair and the delicate profile draped in
+the silk scarf.
+
+He felt full of gentleness for her, now that he no longer feared her,
+and he was tempted to speak kind words to her, as to a little sister of
+whom one is very fond. But the silence was sweeter still and he did not
+wish to break its charm.
+
+They passed the last houses. The street ran into a white country-road,
+lined with tall poplars. And they heard scraps of Morestal's
+conversation:
+
+"Oh, yes! Captain Daspry! Leniency, friendly relations between superiors
+and inferiors, the barracks looked upon as a school of brotherhood, with
+the officers for instructors! That's all very well; but do you know what
+a system of that sort leads to? An army of deserters and renegades...."
+
+Suzanne said, in a low voice:
+
+"May I have your arm, Philippe?"
+
+He at once slipped his arm through hers, happy at the thought of
+pleasing her. And he felt, besides, a great relief at seeing that she
+leant against him with the confidence of a friend. They were going to
+part and nothing would tarnish the pure memory of that day. It was a
+comforting impression, which nevertheless caused him a certain sadness.
+Duty fulfilled always leaves a taste of bitterness behind. The
+intoxication of sacrifice no longer stimulates you; and you begin to
+understand what you have refused.
+
+In the warm night, amid all the perfumes that stirred in the breeze,
+Suzanne's own scent was wafted up to him. He inhaled it long and
+greedily and reflected that no scent had ever excited him before:
+
+"Good-bye," he said, within himself. "Good-bye, little girl; good-bye to
+what was my love."
+
+And, during those last minutes, as though he were granting a crowning
+grace to his impossible longings and his forbidden dreams, he yielded to
+the delights of that love which had blossomed so mysteriously in the
+unknown regions of his soul.
+
+"Good-bye," Suzanne now said. "Good-bye, Philippe."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Yes, or else my father would come back with me; and I want nobody ...
+nobody...."
+
+Jorance and old Morestal had stopped near a bench, at a place where two
+paths met, the wider of which, the one on the left, climbed up towards
+the frontier. The spot was known as the Carrefour du Grand Chene, or
+Great Oak Crossways.
+
+Morestal kissed the girl again:
+
+"Good-bye, for the present, Suzanne. And don't forget that I'm coming to
+your wedding."
+
+He pressed the spring of his repeater:
+
+"I say, Philippe, it's a quarter past ten.... True, there's no hurry....
+Your mother and Marthe must be asleep by now. No matter, let's get
+on...."
+
+"Look here, father, if you don't mind, I would rather take the direct
+road.... The path by the Butte-aux-Loups is longer; and I am feeling
+rather tired."
+
+In reality, like Suzanne, Philippe wanted to go home alone, so that
+nothing might disturb the melancholy charm of his dream. Old Morestal's
+long speeches terrified him.
+
+"As you please, my boy," cried the old man. "But mind you don't put up
+the bolt or the chain on the hall-door."
+
+Jorance impressed the same injunctions on Suzanne and the two walked
+away.
+
+"Good-bye, Philippe," said the girl, once again.
+
+He had already entered the path on the right.
+
+"Good-bye, Suzanne," he said.
+
+"Give me your hand, Philippe."
+
+For his hand to reach Suzanne's, he had to turn two or three steps
+back. He hesitated. But she had come towards him and, very gently, drew
+him to the foot of the path:
+
+"Philippe, we must not part like this.... It is too sad! Let us go back
+together to Saint-Elophe ... as far as the house.... Please do...."
+
+"No," he said, curtly.
+
+"Oh!" she moaned. "I asked so that I might be with you a little
+longer.... It is so sad! But you are right. Let us part."
+
+He said, in a kinder tone:
+
+"Suzanne.... Suzanne...."
+
+Bending her head a little, she put out her forehead to him:
+
+"Kiss me, Philippe."
+
+He stooped, intending to kiss the curls of her hair. But she gave a
+swift movement and flung her arms round his neck.
+
+He felt that he was lost and made a despairing effort. Suzanne's lips
+were close to his, offering themselves.
+
+"Oh, Suzanne ... Suzanne, my darling ..." he whispered, abandoning all
+resistance and pressing the girl to his breast....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TRAP
+
+
+The road which Morestal and his friend followed first makes a bend and
+climbs the wooded side of a ravine. It was formerly used for foresting
+purposes and is still paved with large stones which are covered with mud
+after a rainy day and make the ascent slippery and difficult.
+
+Morestal was panting for breath when he reached the top:
+
+"We ought ..." he said, "to see ... Philippe from here."
+
+Faint clouds dimmed the light of the moon, but still, at certain places
+denuded of trees, they were able to distinguish the other side of the
+ravine.
+
+He called out:
+
+"Hullo!... Philippe!"
+
+"I tell you what," said Jorance. "I expect Philippe did not like to let
+Suzanne go home alone and he is taking her back, at any rate as far as
+the houses."
+
+"I dare say," said Morestal. "Poor Suzanne, she doesn't look very
+bright. So you've made up your mind to get her married?"
+
+"Yes ... I'm getting her married ... it's all settled."
+
+They started walking again, and, by an imperceptible slope, came to two
+large trees, after which the road turned to the right. From that point
+onwards, running through pine-woods along the line of the ridges, it
+marked the frontier as far as the Col du Diable.
+
+On their left was the German slope, which was steeper.
+
+"Yes," repeated Jorance, "it's all settled. Of course, Suzanne might
+have met a younger man ... a better-looking man ... but no one more
+respectable or more serious.... To say nothing of his having a very firm
+character; and, with Suzanne, a certain amount of firmness is necessary.
+Besides ..."
+
+"Yes?" said Morestal, perceiving his hesitation.
+
+"Well, you see, Morestal, Suzanne has got to be married. She inherits
+from me an upright nature and strict principles ... but she is not only
+my daughter ... and sometimes I am afraid of finding ... bad instincts
+in her."
+
+"Have you discovered anything?"
+
+"Oh, no! And I am sure that there is nothing to discover. But it's the
+future I'm afraid of. One day or another, she may know temptation ...
+some one may make love to her ... turn her head with fair words. When
+that time comes, will she know how to resist? Oh, Morestal, the thought
+of it drives me mad! I couldn't bear it.... Just think, the daughter,
+following after the mother.... Oh, I believe ... I believe I should kill
+her!..."
+
+Morestal jested:
+
+"What a fuss about nothing! A good little girl like Suzanne!..."
+
+"Yes, you are right, it's absurd. But I can't help it, I can't
+forget.... And I don't want to, either. My duty is to think of
+everything and to give her a guide, a master who will advise her.... I
+know Suzanne: she will make a perfect wife...."
+
+"And she will have lots of children; and they will be very happy,"
+Morestal wound up. "Come, you're boring me and boring yourself with your
+fancies.... Let's talk of something else. By the way ..."
+
+He waited for Jorance to come up with him. The two walked on abreast.
+And Morestal, who was interested in no subject outside his personal
+prejudice, resumed:
+
+"By the way, can you tell me--if it's not a professional secret, of
+course--can you tell me who that man Dourlowski is exactly?"
+
+"Six months ago," replied Jorance, "I should not have been able to
+answer your question. But now ..."
+
+"But now?..."
+
+"He is no longer in our service."
+
+"Do you think he has gone over to the other side?"
+
+"I expect so, but I haven't the least proof of it. In any case, there's
+not much to be said in the fellow's favour. Why do you ask? Have you
+anything to do with him?"
+
+"No, no," said Morestal, remaining thoughtful.
+
+They went on in silence. The wind, which blew more strongly on the
+ridge, played among the trees. The pine-needles crackled under the soles
+of their boots. The moon had disappeared, but the sky was white with
+light.
+
+"The Pierre-Branlante.... The Cheminee-des-Fees," said Morestal,
+pointing to the vaguely-seen shapes of two huge boulders known by those
+names of the Rocking Stone and the Fairies' Chimney.
+
+They walked for another moment:
+
+"Eh? What is it?" said Jorance, feeling his companion catch him by the
+arm.
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Listen!"
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"Didn't you hear a sort of a hoot?"
+
+"Yes, the hoot of an owl."
+
+"Are you sure? It doesn't sound natural to me."
+
+"What do you say it is, then? A signal?"
+
+"I'm certain of it."
+
+Jorance reflected:
+
+"After all, it's quite possible ... some smuggler perhaps.... But it's a
+bad moment to have chosen."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, now that the German post has been cut down, it's likely that all
+this part of the frontier is being more closely watched than usual."
+
+"Yes, of course," said Morestal. "Still, that owl's hoot ..."
+
+There was a short slope and then they emerged upon a higher upland,
+surrounded by enormous fir-trees, which formed a sort of rampart. This
+was the Butte-aux-Loups. The road cut it in two; and the posts of each
+country stood facing each other.
+
+Jorance noticed that the German post had been put up again, but in a
+makeshift fashion, with the aid of a number of large stones which kept
+it in position.
+
+"A gust of wind and down it comes again," he said, shaking it.
+
+"I say, mind what you're about!" said Morestal, with a chuckle. "Don't
+you see yourself toppling it over and having the police down upon
+you?... You'd better make a strategic movement to the rear, my
+friend!..."
+
+But he had not finished speaking when another cry reached his ears.
+
+"Ah, this time," said Morestal, "you'll admit...."
+
+"Yes ... yes ..." Jorance agreed. "An owl gives a duller, slower
+hoot.... It really is like a signal, a hundred yards or so ahead of
+us.... Smugglers, of course, French or German."
+
+"Suppose we turned back?" said Morestal. "Aren't you afraid of being
+mixed up in an affair?..."
+
+"Why? It's the custom-house people's business; it doesn't concern you
+and me. They can settle it among themselves...."
+
+They listened for a moment and then went on, thoughtfully, with watchful
+ears.
+
+After the Butte-aux-Loups, the ridge becomes flatter, the forest spreads
+out and the road, now freer, winds among the trees, runs from one slope
+to the other, avoids the big roots, passes round the inequalities of the
+ground and, at times, disappears from sight under a bed of dead leaves.
+
+But the moon had come out again and Morestal walked straight in front of
+him, without hesitation. He knew the frontier so well! He could have
+followed it with his eyes closed, in the dusk of the darkest night! At
+one place, there was a branch that blocked the way; at another, there
+was the trunk of an old oak which sounded hollow when he hit it with his
+stick. And he announced the branch before he came to it; and he struck
+at the old oak.
+
+His uneasiness, which began to seem unreasonable, was dispelled.
+Consulting his watch again, he hurried his steps, so as to reach home by
+the time which he had said.
+
+But suddenly he stopped. He thought he saw a shadow hiding, thirty or
+forty yards away from him:
+
+"Did you see?" he whispered.
+
+"Yes ... I saw...."
+
+And, all at once, there came a shrill, strident whistle, apparently from
+the very place where the shadow had vanished.
+
+"Don't move," said Jorance.
+
+They waited, their hearts tense with the anguish of what was coming.
+
+A minute passed and more minutes; and then there was a sound of
+footsteps, below them, on the German side, the sound of a man
+hurrying....
+
+Morestal thought of the precipitous hill which he had described to
+Dourlowski as the way up to the frontier from the Albern Woods, by the
+Cold Spring, the Fontaine-Froide. In all certainty, somebody was scaling
+the upper portion of that precipice, clinging on to the branches and
+dragging himself along the pebbles.
+
+"A deserter!" whispered Jorance. "No nonsense now!"
+
+But Morestal pushed him away and began to run to where the two roads
+crossed. At the very moment when he reached the spot, a man appeared,
+all frenzied and out of breath, and stammered, in French:
+
+"Save me!... I've been given away!... I'm frightened!..."
+
+Morestal seized hold of him and flung him off the road:
+
+"Run!... Look sharp!... Straight ahead of you!"
+
+There was the report of a rifle. The man staggered, with a moan; but he
+was evidently only wounded, for, after a few seconds, he drew himself
+up and made off through the woods.
+
+A chase ensued forthwith. Four or five Germans crossed the frontier and
+set off in pursuit of the fugitive, swearing as they went, while their
+comrades, forming the greater number, turned towards Morestal.
+
+Jorance took him round the waist and compelled him to recoil:
+
+"This way," he said, "over there.... They won't dare ..."
+
+They returned in the direction of the Butte-aux-Loups, but were at once
+caught up:
+
+"Halt!" commanded a rough voice. "I arrest you.... You are
+accomplices.... I arrest you."
+
+"We are in France," retorted Jorance, facing his aggressors.
+
+A hand fell on his shoulder:
+
+"We'll see about that.... We'll see about that.... You're coming with
+us."
+
+The men surrounded them; but, vigorous both and exasperated, they
+succeeded in fighting their way through with their fists:
+
+"To the Butte-aux-Loups," said Jorance, "and keep to the left of the
+road."
+
+"We're not on the left," said Morestal, who saw, after a moment, that
+they had branched off to the right.
+
+They re-entered French territory; but the police who were pursuing the
+deserter, having lost his tracks, now fell back in their direction.
+
+Thereupon they made a bend to the right, hesitated for a moment, careful
+not to cross the road, and then set off again; and, still tracked by the
+men, whom they felt close upon their heels, they reached the acclivity
+of the Butte-aux-Loups. At that moment, surrounded on all hands and
+utterly blown, they had to stop to take breath.
+
+"Arrest them!" said the leader of the men, in whom they recognized the
+German commissary, Weisslicht. "Arrest them! We are in Germany."
+
+"You lie!" roared Morestal, fighting with wild energy. "You have not the
+right.... It's a dirty trap!"
+
+It was a violent struggle, but did not last long. He received a blow on
+the chin with the butt of a rifle, reeled, but continued to defend
+himself, hitting and biting his adversaries. At last, they succeeded in
+throwing him and, to stifle his shouting, they gagged him.
+
+Jorance, who had taken a leap to the rear and was standing with his back
+to a tree, resisted, protesting:
+
+"I am M. Jorance, special commissary at Saint-Elophe. I am on my own
+ground here. We are in France. There's the frontier."
+
+The men flung themselves upon him and dragged him away, while he shouted
+at the top of his voice:
+
+"Help! Help! They're arresting the French commissary on French soil!"
+
+A report was heard, followed by another. Morestal, with a superhuman
+effort, had knocked down the policeman who held him and once more took
+to flight, with a cord cutting into one of his wrists and with a gag in
+his mouth.
+
+But, two hundred yards further, as he was turning towards the Col du
+Diable, his foot knocked against the root of a tree and he fell.
+
+He was at once overtaken and firmly bound.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+A few moments later, the two prisoners were carried by the police to the
+road leading through the Albern Woods and hoisted on the backs of a
+couple of horses. They were taken to the Col du Diable and, from there,
+past the Wildermann factory and the hamlet of Torins, sent on to the
+German town of Boersweilen.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE TWO WOMEN
+
+
+Suzanne Jorance pushed the swing-gate and entered the grounds of the Old
+Mill.
+
+She was dressed in white and her face looked fresh and cool under a
+large hat of Leghorn straw, with its black-velvet strings hanging loose
+upon her shoulders. Her short skirt showed her dainty ankles. She walked
+with a brisk step, using a tall, iron-shod stick, while her disengaged
+hand crumpled some flowers which she had gathered on the way and which
+she dropped heedlessly as she went.
+
+The Morestals' peaceful house was waking in the morning sun. Several of
+the windows were open; and Suzanne saw Marthe writing at the table in
+her bedroom.
+
+She called out:
+
+"Can I come up?"
+
+But Mme. Morestal appeared at one of the windows of the drawing-room and
+made an imperious sign to her:
+
+"Hush! Don't speak!"
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Suzanne, when she joined the old lady.
+
+"They're asleep."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Why, the father and son."
+
+"Oh!" said Suzanne. "Philippe too?..."
+
+"Yes, they must have come in late and they are resting. Neither of them
+has rung his bell yet. But tell me, Suzanne, aren't you going away?"
+
+"To-morrow ... or the next day.... I confess, I'm in no hurry to go."
+
+Mme. Morestal took her to her daughter-in-law's room and asked:
+
+"Philippe's still asleep, isn't he?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Marthe. "I haven't heard him move...."
+
+"Nor I Morestal.... And yet he's an early riser, as a rule.... And
+Philippe, who wanted to go tramping at daybreak!... However, so much the
+better, sleep suits both of my men.... By the way, Marthe, didn't the
+shooting wake you in the night?"
+
+"The shooting!"
+
+"Oh, of course, your room is on the other side. The sound came from the
+frontier.... Some poacher, I suppose...."
+
+"Were M. Morestal and Philippe in?"
+
+"Surely! It must have been one or two o'clock ... perhaps later ... I
+don't quite know."
+
+She put the tea-pot and the jar of honey, which Marthe had had for
+breakfast, on the tray; and, with her mania for tidying, obeying some
+mysterious principle of symmetry, settled her daughter-in-law's things
+and any piece of furniture in the room that had been moved from its
+place. This done, with her hands hanging before her, she looked round
+for an excuse to discontinue this irksome activity. Then, discovering
+none, she left the room.
+
+"How early you are," said Marthe to Suzanne.
+
+"I wanted air ... and movement.... Besides, I told Philippe that I would
+come and fetch him. I want to go and see the ruins of the
+Petite-Chartreuse with him ... It's a bore that he's not up yet."
+
+She seemed disappointed at this accident which deprived her of a
+pleasure.
+
+"Do you mind if I finish my letters?" asked Marthe, taking up her pen.
+
+Suzanne strolled round the room, looking out of the window, leant to see
+if Philippe's was open, then sat down opposite Marthe and examined her
+long and carefully. She noted the eye-lids, which were a little rumpled;
+the uneven colouring; the tiny wrinkles on the temples; a few white
+hairs mingling with the dark tresses; all that proclaims time's little
+victories over waning youth. And, raising her eyes, she saw herself in a
+glass.
+
+Marthe surprised her glance and cried, with an admiration free from all
+envy:
+
+"You are splendid, Suzanne! You look like a triumphant goddess. What
+triumph have you achieved?"
+
+Suzanne flushed and, in her confusion, said, at random:
+
+"But you, Marthe, you look worried...."
+
+"Well, yes ... perhaps I am."
+
+And Marthe told how, on the previous evening, finding herself alone with
+her mother-in-law, she had spoken to her of Philippe's new ideas, the
+spirit of his work, his plan of resigning his position and his firm
+intention to have an explanation with M. Morestal.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well," said Marthe, "my mother-in-law flew out. She absolutely objects
+to any explanation whatever."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"M. Morestal is suffering from heart-trouble. Dr. Borel, who has
+attended him for the last twenty years, says that he must be spared any
+annoyance, any excessive excitement. And an interview with Philippe
+might have fatal results.... What can one reply to that?"
+
+"You will have to tell Philippe."
+
+"Certainly. And he, he must either keep silent and continue to lead an
+intolerable existence, or else, at the cost of the most terrible
+anguish, face M. Morestal's anger."
+
+She was silent for a moment and then, striking the table with her
+clenched fists:
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "if I could only take all those worries upon myself
+and save Philippe's peace of mind!"
+
+Suzanne felt all the force of her vehemence and energy. No pain would
+have frightened Marthe, no sacrifice would have been beyond her
+strength.
+
+"Do you love Philippe very much?" she asked.
+
+Marthe smiled:
+
+"With all my heart.... He deserves it."
+
+The younger woman felt a certain bitterness and could not help saying:
+
+"Does he love you as much as you love him?"
+
+"Why, yes, I think so.... I deserve it too."
+
+"And do you trust him?"
+
+"Oh, fully! Philippe is the most loyal creature I know."
+
+"Still ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Yes, say what you were going to.... Oh, you need not be afraid of
+asking me questions!"
+
+"Well, I was thinking ... suppose Philippe loved another woman...."
+
+Marthe burst out laughing:
+
+"If you knew how little importance Philippe attaches to all that
+business of love!"
+
+"However, supposing ..."
+
+"Very well, supposing," she said, pretending to be serious. "Philippe
+loves another woman. He is madly in love with her. What then?"
+
+"In that case, what would you do?"
+
+"Upon my word ... I've never thought about it."
+
+"Wouldn't you go for a divorce?"
+
+"And my children?"
+
+"But, if he wanted to be divorced?"
+
+"Then it would be, 'Good-bye, M. Philippe!'"
+
+Suzanne reflected, without taking her eyes from Marthe, as though she
+were spying for a sign of uneasiness on her features or seeking to
+fathom the depths of her most secret thoughts.
+
+She murmured:
+
+"And, if he deceived you?"
+
+This time, the thrust went home. Marthe shivered, stung to the quick.
+Her face altered. And she said, in a voice which she made an effort to
+contain:
+
+"Oh, that, no! If Philippe fell in love with another woman, if he wanted
+to begin his life again, without me, and if he confessed it frankly, I
+should consent to everything ... yes, to everything, even to a divorce,
+however great my despair.... But treachery, lying ..."
+
+"You would not forgive him?"
+
+"Never! Philippe is not a man whom one can forgive. He is a conscious
+man, who knows what he is doing, incapable of a weakness; and no
+forgiveness would absolve him. Besides, I myself could not ... no ... I
+could not indeed." And she added, "I have too much pride."
+
+The phrase was gravely and simply uttered and revealed a haughtiness of
+soul which Suzanne had not suspected. She felt a sort of confusion in
+the presence of the rival whom she was attacking and who held her at bay
+with such disdain.
+
+A long silence divided the two women; and Marthe said:
+
+"You're in one of your wicked moods to-day, Suzanne, aren't you?"
+
+"I am too happy to be wicked," chuckled the girl. "Only it's such a
+strange happiness! I am afraid it won't last."
+
+"Your marriage ..."
+
+"I won't get married!" declared Suzanne, excitedly. "I won't get married
+at any price! I hate that man.... He's not the only man in the world, is
+he? There are others ... others who will love me.... I too am worthy of
+being loved ... worthy of being lived for!..."
+
+There were tears in her voice; and so great a despondency overwhelmed
+her features that Marthe felt a longing to console her, as was her habit
+in such cases. Nevertheless, she said nothing. Suzanne had wounded her,
+not so much by her questions as by her attitude, by a certain sarcasm in
+her accent and by an air of defiance that mingled with the expression of
+her grief.
+
+She preferred to cut short a painful scene the meaning of which escaped
+her, although the scene itself did not astonish her on Suzanne's part:
+
+"I am going downstairs," she said. "It's time for the post; and I am
+expecting letters."
+
+"So you're leaving me!" said Suzanne, in a broken voice.
+
+Marthe could not help laughing:
+
+"Well, yes, I am leaving you in this room ... unless you refuse to
+stay...."
+
+Suzanne ran after her and, holding her back:
+
+"You mustn't! I only ask for a movement, a kind word.... I am passing
+through a terrible time, I need help and you ... you repel me.... It's
+you who are repelling me, don't forget that.... It's you...."
+
+"That's understood," said Marthe. "I am a cruel friend.... Only, you
+see, my dear little Suzanne, if the thought of your marriage upsets you
+to that extent, it might be a good plan to tell your father.... Come,
+come along downstairs and calm yourself."
+
+They found Mme. Morestal below, feather-broom in hand, an apron tied
+round her waist, waging her daily battle against a dust that existed
+only in her imagination.
+
+"I suppose you know, mamma, that Philippe is not yet up?"
+
+"The lazy fellow! It's nearly nine o'clock. I hope he's not ill!"
+
+"Oh, no!" said Marthe. "But, all the same, when I go up again, I'll look
+in and see."
+
+Mme. Morestal went as far as the hall with the two young women. Suzanne
+was already walking away, without a word, with the face which she wore
+on her black days, as Marthe said, when Mme. Morestal called her back:
+
+"You're forgetting your stick, child."
+
+The old lady had taken the long, iron-shod walking-stick from the
+umbrella-stand. But, suddenly, she began to rummage among the canes and
+sunshades, muttering:
+
+"Well, that's funny...."
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Marthe.
+
+"I can't find Morestal's stick. And yet it's always here."
+
+"He must have put it down somewhere else."
+
+"Impossible! If so, it would be the first time in his life. I know him
+so well!... What can it mean?... Victor!"
+
+The man ran into the hall:
+
+"Yes, ma'am?"
+
+"Victor, why isn't your master's cane here?"
+
+"I have a notion, ma'am, that the master has gone out."
+
+"Gone out! But you ought to have told me.... I was beginning to be
+anxious."
+
+"I said so just now to Catherine."
+
+"But what makes you think ...?"
+
+"In the first place, the master did not put his boots outside his door
+as usual.... M. Philippe neither...."
+
+"What!" said Marthe. "Has M. Philippe gone out too?"
+
+"Very early this morning, ma'am ... before my time for getting up."
+
+In spite of herself, Suzanne Jorance protested:
+
+"But no, it's not conceivable...."
+
+"Why, when I came down," said Victor, "the front-door was not locked."
+
+"And your master never forgets to turn the key, does he?"
+
+"Never. As the door was not locked, it means either that the master has
+gone out ... or else...."
+
+"Or else what?"
+
+"That he hasn't come in.... Only, I say that as I might say anything
+that came into my head...."
+
+"Not come in!" exclaimed Mme. Morestal.
+
+She reflected for a second, then turned on her heels, ran up the stairs
+with surprising agility, crossed a passage and entered her husband's
+bedroom.
+
+She uttered a cry and called:
+
+"Marthe!... Marthe!..."
+
+But the young woman, who had followed her, was already on her way to the
+second floor, with Suzanne.
+
+Philippe's room was at the back. She opened the door quickly and stood
+on the threshold, speechless.
+
+Philippe was not there; and the bed had not even been undone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE
+
+
+The three women met in the drawing-room. Mme. Morestal walked up and
+down in dismay, hardly knowing what she was saying:
+
+"Not in!... Philippe neither!... Victor, you must run ... but where
+to?... Where is he to look?... Oh, it's really too terrible!..."
+
+She suddenly stepped in front of Marthe and stammered:
+
+"The ... the shots ... last night...."
+
+Marthe, pale with anxiety, did not reply. She had had the same awful
+thought from the first moment.
+
+But Suzanne exclaimed:
+
+"In any case, Marthe, you need not be alarmed. Philippe did not take the
+road by the frontier."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"We separated at the Carrefour du Grand-Chene. M. Morestal and papa went
+on by themselves. Philippe came straight back."
+
+"No, he can't have come straight back, or he would be here now," said
+Marthe. "What can he have been doing all night? He has not even set
+foot in his room!"
+
+But Mme. Morestal was terrified by what Suzanne had said. She could now
+no longer doubt that her husband had taken the frontier-road; and the
+shots had come from the frontier!
+
+"Yes, that's true," said Suzanne, "but it was only ten o'clock when we
+started from Saint-Elophe and the shots which you heard were fired at
+one or two o'clock in the morning.... You said so yourself."
+
+"How can I tell?" cried the old lady, who was beginning to lose her head
+entirely. "It may have been much earlier."
+
+"But your father must know," said Marthe to Suzanne. "Did he tell you
+nothing?"
+
+"I have not seen my father this morning," said Suzanne. "He was not
+awake...."
+
+She had not time to finish her sentence before an idea burst in upon
+her, an idea so natural that the two other women were struck by it also
+and none of them dared put it into words.
+
+Suzanne flew to the door, but Marthe held her back. Why not telephone to
+Saint-Elophe, to the special commissary's house?
+
+A minute later, M. Jorance's servant replied that she had just noticed
+that her master was not in. His bed had not been touched either.
+
+"Oh!" said Suzanne, trembling all over. "My poor father!... Can
+anything have happened to him?... My poor father! I ought to have...."
+
+They stood for a moment as though paralyzed, all three, and incapable of
+taking a resolution. The man-servant went out saying that he would
+saddle the horse and gallop to the Col du Diable.
+
+Marthe, who was nearest to the telephone, rang up the mayor's office at
+Saint-Elophe, on the off-chance, and asked for news. They knew nothing
+there. But two gendarmes, it seemed, had just crossed the square at a
+great pace. Thereupon, at the suggestion of Mme. Morestal, who had taken
+up the second receiver, she asked to be put on to the gendarmery. As
+soon as she was connected, she explained her reason for telephoning and
+was informed that the sergeant was on his way to the frontier with a
+peasant who declared that he had found the body of a man in the woods
+between the Butte-aux-Loups and the Col du Diable. That was all they
+were able to tell her....
+
+Mme. Morestal let go the receiver and fell in a dead faint. Marthe and
+Suzanne tried to attend to her. But their hands trembled and, when
+Catherine, the maid-servant, appeared upon the scene, they both ran out
+of the room, roused by a sudden energy and an immense need of doing
+something, of walking, of laying eyes upon that dead body whose
+blood-stained image obsessed their minds.
+
+They went down the stairs of the terrace and scurried in the direction
+of the Etang-des-Moines. They had not gone fifty yards, when they were
+passed by Victor, who galloped by on horseback and shouted:
+
+"Go in, go in! What's the use? I shall be back again!"
+
+They went on nevertheless. But two roads offered: Suzanne wanted to take
+the one leading to the pass, on the left; Marthe, the one on the right,
+through the woods. They exchanged sharp words, blocking each other's
+way.
+
+Suddenly, Suzanne, without knowing what she was saying, flung herself
+into her friend's arms, blurting out:
+
+"I must tell you.... It is my duty.... Besides, it is all my fault...."
+
+Marthe, enraged and not understanding the words, which she was to
+remember so clearly later, spoke to her roughly:
+
+"You're quite mad to-day," she said. "Leave me alone, do."
+
+She darted into the woods and, in a few minutes, came to an abandoned
+quarry. The path went no further. She had a fit of fury, was on the
+verge of throwing herself on the ground and bursting into tears and
+then retraced her steps, for she thought she heard some one call. It was
+Suzanne, who had seen a man coming from the frontier on horseback and
+who had vainly tried to make herself heard. He was no doubt bringing
+news....
+
+Panting and exhausted, they went back again. But there was no one at the
+Old Mill, no one but Mme. Morestal and Catherine, who were praying on
+the terrace. All the servants had gone off, without plan or purpose, in
+search of information; and the man on the horse, a peasant, had passed
+without looking up.
+
+Then they dropped on a bench near the balustrade and sat stupefied, worn
+out by the effort which they had just made; and horrible minutes
+followed. Each of the three women thought of her own special sorrow and
+each, besides, suffered the anguish of the unknown disaster that
+threatened all three of them. They dared not look at one another. They
+dared not speak, although the silence tortured them. The least sound
+represented a source of foolish hope or horrid dread; and, with their
+eyes fixed on the line of dark woods, they waited.
+
+Suddenly, they rose with a start. Catherine, who was keeping a look-out
+on the steps of the staircase, had sprung to her feet:
+
+"There's Henriot!" she cried.
+
+"Henriot?" echoed Mme. Morestal.
+
+"Yes, the gardener's boy: I can make him out from here."
+
+"Where? We haven't seen him come."
+
+"He must have taken a short cut.... He is coming up the stairs....
+Quick, Henriot!... Hurry!... Do you know anything?"
+
+She pulled open the gate and a lad of fifteen or so, his face bathed in
+perspiration, appeared.
+
+He at once said:
+
+"There's a deserter been killed ... a German deserter."
+
+And the three women were forthwith overcome with a great sense of peace.
+After the rush of events that had come upon them like a tempest, it
+seemed to them as though nothing could touch them now. The phantom of
+death vanished from their minds. A man had been shot, no doubt, but that
+didn't matter, because the man was not one of theirs. And the gladness
+that revived them was such that they could almost have laughed.
+
+And, once again, Catherine appeared. She announced that Victor was
+returning. And the three women saw a man spurring his horse at the mouth
+of the pass, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck on the steep
+slope of the road. It was soon apparent, when the man reached the
+Etang-des-Moines, that some one was following him with swift strides;
+and Marthe uttered cries of joy at recognizing the tall figure of her
+husband.
+
+She waved her handkerchief. Philippe answered the signal.
+
+"It's he!" she said, almost swooning. "It's he, mamma.... I am sure that
+he'll be able to tell us everything ... and that M. Morestal is not far
+off...."
+
+"Let us go and meet them," Suzanne suggested.
+
+"Yes, I'll go," said Marthe, quickly. "You stay here, Suzanne ... stay
+with mamma."
+
+She darted away, eager to be the first to welcome Philippe and
+recovering enough strength to run to the bottom of the slope:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried. "You are back at last...."
+
+He lifted her off the ground and pressed her to him:
+
+"My darling, I hear that you have been uneasy.... You need not have
+been.... I will tell you all about it...."
+
+"Yes, you will tell us.... But come ... come quick and kiss your mother
+and reassure her...."
+
+She dragged him along. They climbed the staircase and, on reaching the
+terrace, he suddenly found himself in the presence of Suzanne, who was
+waiting, convulsed with jealousy and hatred. Philippe's emotion was so
+great that he did not even offer her his hand. Besides, at that moment,
+Mme. Morestal ran up to him:
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Alive."
+
+And Suzanne, in her turn:
+
+"Papa?"
+
+"Alive also.... They have both been carried off by the German police,
+near the frontier."
+
+"What? Prisoners?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"They haven't hurt them?"
+
+The three women all stood round him and pressed him with questions. He
+replied, laughing:
+
+"A little calmness, first.... I confess I feel rather dazed.... This
+makes two exciting nights.... Also, I am simply starving."
+
+His shoes and clothes were grey with dust. There was blood on one of his
+shirt-cuffs.
+
+"You are wounded!" cried Marthe.
+
+"No ... not I.... I'll explain to you...."
+
+Catherine brought him a cup of coffee, which he swallowed greedily, and
+he began:
+
+"It was about five o'clock in the morning when I got up; and I certainly
+had no idea, when I left my room ..."
+
+Marthe was stupefied. Why did Philippe say that he had slept there? Did
+he not know that his absence had been discovered? But then why tell
+that lie?
+
+She instinctively placed herself in front of Suzanne and in front of her
+mother; and, as Philippe had broken off, himself embarrassed by the
+obvious commotion which he had caused, she asked him:
+
+"So, last evening, you left your father and M. Jorance?..."
+
+"At the Carrefour du Grand-Chene."
+
+"Yes, so Suzanne told us. And you came back straight?"
+
+"Straight."
+
+"But you heard the shots fired?..."
+
+"Shots?"
+
+"Yes, on the frontier."
+
+"No. I must have gone to sleep at once.... I was tired.... Otherwise, if
+I had heard them ..."
+
+He had an intuition of the danger which he was running, especially as
+Suzanne was trying to make signs to him. But he had prepared the opening
+of his story so carefully that, being unaccustomed to lying, he would
+have been unable to alter a single word of it without losing the little
+coolness that remained to him. Moreover, himself worn out and incapable
+of resisting the atmosphere of anxiety and nervousness that surrounded
+him, how could he have perceived the trap which Marthe unconsciously
+had laid for him? He, therefore, repeated:
+
+"Once more, when I left my room, I had no idea of what had happened. It
+was an accident that put me in the way of it. I had reached the Col du
+Diable and was walking along the frontier-road when, half-way from the
+Butte-aux-Loups, I heard moans and groans on my left. I went to the spot
+where they came from and discovered, among the bracken, a wounded man,
+covered in blood...."
+
+"The deserter," said Mme. Morestal.
+
+"Yes, a German private, Johann Baufeld," replied Philippe.
+
+He was now coming to the true portion of his story, for his interview
+with the deserter had really taken place when he was returning from
+Saint-Elophe, at break of day; and he continued, with an easier mind:
+
+"Johann Baufeld had only a few minutes to live. He had the death-rattle
+in his throat. Nevertheless, he had strength enough left to tell me his
+name and to speak a few words; and he died in my arms, not, however,
+before I learnt from him that M. Jorance and my father had tried to
+protect him on French territory and that the police had turned upon
+them. I therefore went in search of them. The track was easy to follow.
+It took me through the Col du Diable to the hamlet of Torins. There, the
+inn-keeper made no difficulty about telling me that a squad of police,
+several of whom were mounted, had passed his house on their way to
+Boersweilen, where they were conveying two French prisoners. One of these
+was wounded. I could not find out if it was your father, Suzanne, or
+mine. In any case, the wounds must have been slight, for both prisoners
+were sitting their horses without assistance. I felt reassured and
+turned back. At the Col du Diable, I met Victor.... You know the rest."
+
+He seemed quite happy at finishing his story and poured himself out a
+second cup of coffee, with the satisfied air of a man who has got off
+cheaply.
+
+The three women were silent. Suzanne lowered her head, lest she should
+betray her emotion. At last, Marthe, who had no suspicions, but who was
+worrying her head about Philippe's falsehood, resumed:
+
+"At what time did you come in last night?"
+
+"At a quarter to eleven."
+
+"And you went to bed at once?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"Then how is it that your bed has not been touched?"
+
+Philippe gave a start. The question took his breath away. Instead of
+inventing some pretext or other, he stammered, guilelessly:
+
+"Oh, so you went in ... you saw ..."
+
+He had not thought of this detail, nor, for that matter, of any of those
+which might make his story appear to clash with the facts; and he no
+longer knew what to say.
+
+Suzanne suggested:
+
+"Perhaps Philippe spent the night in a chair...."
+
+Marthe shrugged her shoulders; and Philippe, utterly at a loss, trying
+to make up another version, did not even answer. He remained dumb, like
+a child caught at fault.
+
+"Come, Philippe," asked Marthe, "what's underneath this? Didn't you come
+straight back?"
+
+"No," he admitted.
+
+"You came back by the frontier?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why conceal it? I couldn't very well be anxious now, seeing that
+you are here."
+
+"That's just it!" cried Philippe, plunging at a venture along this path.
+"That's just it! I did not want to tell you that I had spent the night
+looking for my father."
+
+"The night! Then you knew before this morning that he had been carried
+off?"
+
+"Yes, last evening."
+
+"Last evening? But how? Who told you? You can only have known it by
+witnessing the arrest."
+
+He hesitated for a second. He could have dated his interview with the
+deserter Baufeld to that particular moment. But he did not think of
+this; and he declared, in a firm tone:
+
+"Well, yes, I was there ... or, at least, not far off...."
+
+"And you heard the shots?"
+
+"Yes, I heard the shots and also some cries of pain.... When I arrived
+on the scene of the fighting, there was no one there. Then I hunted
+about.... You understand, I was afraid that my father or M. Jorance had
+been hit by the bullets.... I hunted all night, following their track in
+the dark: a wrong track, first of all, which led me towards the Albern
+Woods. And then, this morning, I found Private Baufeld, who told me
+which way the attacking party had gone, and I pushed on to the factory
+and to the inn at Torins. But if I had told you all that, oh, by Jove,
+how you would have fretted about my fatigue! Why, I can picture you
+doing so, my poor Marthe!"
+
+He pretended to be gay and careless. Marthe watched him in astonishment.
+She nodded her head with a thoughtful air:
+
+"Yes ... you are right...."
+
+"Don't you think so? It was much simpler to tell you that I had just
+left my room, feeling fit and well, after a good night's rest.... Don't
+you agree with me, mother?... Besides, you yourself ..."
+
+But, at that moment, a sound of voices rose under the windows on the
+garden-side and Catherine burst into the room, yelling:
+
+"The master! The master!"
+
+And Victor also bounded in:
+
+"Here's the master coming! There he is!"
+
+"Who? Who?" asked Mme. Morestal, hastening forward.
+
+"M. Morestal! There he is! We saw him at the end of the garden.... Look,
+over there, near the water-fall...."
+
+The old lady ran to one of the windows:
+
+"Yes! He has seen us! O God, is it possible?"
+
+Staggering with excitement, she leant heavily on Marthe's arm and
+dragged her to the staircase that led to the front hall and the steps.
+
+They had hardly disappeared when Suzanne flung herself upon Philippe:
+
+"Oh, please, Philippe ... please!" she implored.
+
+He did not understand at first:
+
+"What is it, Suzanne?"
+
+"Please, please be careful. Don't let Marthe suspect...."
+
+"Do you think ...?"
+
+"I thought so, for a second.... She gave me such a queer look.... Oh, it
+would be terrible!... Please, please ..."
+
+She left him quickly, but her words and the scared look in her eyes gave
+Philippe a real fright. Hitherto, he had felt towards Marthe only the
+embarrassment provoked by the annoyance of having to tell a lie. He now
+suddenly perceived the full gravity of the situation, the peril which
+threatened Suzanne and which might shatter the happiness of his own
+household. One blunder ... and everything was discovered. And this
+thought, instead of clearing his brain forthwith, merely increased his
+confusion.
+
+"I must save Suzanne," he repeated. "Above all, I must save Suzanne."
+
+But he felt that he had no more power over the events at hand than a man
+has over the approaching storm. And a dull fear arose within his breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+FATHER AND SON
+
+
+Bare-headed, tangle-haired, his clothes torn, no collar, blood on his
+shirt, on his hands, on his face, blood everywhere, a wound in his neck,
+another on his lip, unrecognizable, horrible to look at, but magnificent
+in energy, heroic and triumphant: such was the appearance presented by
+old Morestal.
+
+He chortled:
+
+"Here!" he shouted.
+
+An enormous laugh rolled from under his moustache:
+
+"Morestal? Here!... Morestal, for the second time, a prisoner of the
+Teuton ... and, for the second time, free!"
+
+Philippe stared at him in dismay, as though at an apparition.
+
+"Well, sonny? Is that the way you welcome me home?"
+
+He caught hold of a napkin and wiped his face with a great, wide
+gesture. Then he drew his wife to him:
+
+"Kiss me, mother!... And you, Philippe! And you, Marthe!... And you
+too, my pretty Suzanne: once for myself and once for your father!...
+Don't cry, my child.... Daddy's all right.... They're coddling him like
+an emperor, over there ... until they let him go. And that's not far
+off. By Heaven, no! I hope the French government ..."
+
+He was talking like a drunken man, too fast and in an unsteady voice.
+His wife tried to make him sit down. He protested:
+
+"Rest? Quite unnecessary, mother. A Morestal never rests. My wounds?
+Scratches! What? The doctor? If he sets foot in this house, I'll chuck
+him out of the window!"
+
+"Still, you ought to take something...."
+
+"Take something? A glass of wine, if you like ... a glass of good French
+wine.... That's it, uncork a bottle.... We'll have a glass all round....
+Your health, Weisslicht!... Oh, what a joke!... When I think of the face
+of Weisslicht, the special commissary of the imperial government!... The
+prisoner's gone! The bird's flown!"
+
+He laughed loudly and, after drinking two glasses of wine, one on top of
+the other, he kissed the three women once more, kissed Philippe, called
+in Victor, Catherine, the gardener, shook hands with them, sent them
+away again and began to walk up and down the room, saying:
+
+"No time to be lost, children! I met the sergeant of gendarmes on the
+Saint-Elophe road. The authorities have been informed.... They can be
+here within half an hour. I want to present a report. Take a pen,
+Philippe."
+
+"What's much more important," protested his wife, "is that you should
+not excite yourself like this. Here, tell us all about it instead, quite
+calmly."
+
+Old Morestal was never known to refuse to talk. He therefore began his
+story, in short, slow sentences, as she wished, describing all the
+details of attack and all the incidents of the journey to Boersweilen.
+But, carried away once more, he raised his voice, grew indignant, worked
+himself into a rage, burst into sarcasm:
+
+"Oh, they showed no lack of civility!... It was, 'Monsieur le
+commissaire special!... Monsieur le conseiller d'arrondissement!'...
+Weisslicht had his mouth crammed with our titles!... All the same, at
+one o'clock in the morning, we were safely locked up in two nice little
+rooms in the town-hall at Boersweilen.... In quod, what!... With a
+probable indictment for complicity, espionage, high treason and the
+devil knows what hanging over our heads!... Only, in that case,
+gentlemen, you should not carry politeness so far as to release your
+captives from their handcuffs; and the windows of your cells ought not
+to be closed with bars too slight to be of any use; and you ought not to
+let one of your prisoners keep his pocket-knife. If you do, as long as
+that prisoner has any grit in him--and a file to his knife, by Jove!--he
+will try what he can do. And I did try, by Jingo! At four o'clock in the
+morning, after cutting the window-pane and filing or loosening four of
+the bars, old Morestal let himself down by a waste-pipe and took to his
+heels. Kind friends, farewell!... It was now only a question of getting
+home.... The Col du Diable? The Albern Woods? The Butte-aux-Loups? No
+such fool! The vermin were bound to be swarming on that side.... And, in
+fact, I heard the drums beating and the trumpets sounding the alarm and
+the horses galloping. They were hunting for me, of course!... But how
+could they have thought of hunting for me six miles away, in the Val de
+Sainte-Marie, right in the middle of the Forest of Arzance? And I
+trotted ... I trotted until I was simply done.... I crossed the border
+at eight o'clock, unseen and unknown. Morestal's foot was on his native
+heath! At ten o'clock, I saw the steeple of Saint-Elophe from the
+Cote-Blanche and I cut straight across, so as to get home quicker. And
+here I am! A bit tired, I admit, but quite presentable.... Well, what do
+you say to old Morestal now, eh?"
+
+He had stood up and, forgetting all about the fatigue of the night, was
+enlivening his discourse with a savage display of gesture which alarmed
+his wife.
+
+"And my poor father was not able to escape?" asked Suzanne.
+
+"No, they had taken care to search him," replied Morestal. "Besides,
+they watched him more closely than they did me ... so he could not do as
+I did...." And he added. "And a good job too! For I should have been
+left to languish in their prisons until the end of an interminable
+trial; whereas he, in forty-eight hours ... But this is all talk. The
+authorities can't be far away. I want to have my report ready. There are
+certain things which I suspect ... the business was a plot from start to
+finish...."
+
+He interrupted himself, as though startled by an unexpected thought, and
+sat for a long time motionless, with his head in his hands. Then,
+suddenly, he struck the table with his fist:
+
+"That's it! I understand the whole thing now! Upon my word, it's taken
+me long enough!"
+
+"What?" asked his wife.
+
+"Dourlowski, of course!"
+
+"Dourlowski?"
+
+"Why, yes! From the first minute, I guessed that it was a trap, a trap
+contrived by inferior police-agents. But how was it laid? I see it now.
+Dourlowski came here yesterday, on some pretext or other. He knew that
+Jorance and I would take the frontier-road in the evening; and the
+passing of the deserter was contrived to take place at that moment, in
+connivance with the German detectives! One of them whistles as soon as
+we come up; and the soldier, who has been told, of course, that this
+whistle is a signal from the French accomplices, the soldier, whom
+Dourlowski or his confederates hold in a leash, like a dog, the soldier
+is let go. That's the whole mystery! It was not he, the poor wretch,
+whom they were after, but Jorance and Morestal. Morestal, right enough,
+flies to the rescue of the fugitive. They collar him, they lay hold of
+Jorance; and there we are, accomplices both. Bravo, gentlemen! Well
+played!"
+
+Mme. Morestal murmured:
+
+"But, I say, it might be a serious thing ..."
+
+"For Jorance," he replied, "yes, because he is in custody; only--there
+is an 'only'--the pursuit of the deserter took place on French soil. We
+also were arrested on French soil. It was a flagrant violation of the
+frontier. So there's nothing to be afraid of."
+
+"You think so?" asked Suzanne. "You think that my father ...?"
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of," repeated Morestal. And he declared,
+positively, "I look upon Jorance as free."
+
+"Tut, tut!" mumbled the old lady. "Things won't go so fast as that."
+
+"Once more, I look upon Jorance as free and for this good reason, that
+the frontier has been violated."
+
+"Who will prove the violation?"
+
+"Who? Why, I, of course!... And Jorance!... Do you think they'll doubt
+the word of honest men like us? Besides, there are other proofs. They
+will find the traces of the pursuit, the traces of the attack, the
+traces of the stand which we made. And who can tell? There may have been
+witnesses...."
+
+Marthe turned her eyes on Philippe. He was listening to his father, with
+a face so pale that she was astounded. She waited for a few seconds and
+then, seeing that he did not speak, she said:
+
+"There was a witness."
+
+Morestal started:
+
+"What's that, Marthe?"
+
+"Philippe was there."
+
+"Nonsense! We left Philippe at the Carrefour du Grand-Chene, at the
+bottom of the hill, didn't we, Suzanne? You remained behind together."
+
+Philippe intervened, quickly:
+
+"Suzanne went off at once! and so did I ... but I had not gone two
+hundred yards when I turned back."
+
+"So that was why you did not answer when I called to you, half-way up
+the hill?"
+
+"I expect so. I went back to the Grand-Chene."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To join you.... I was sorry I had left you."
+
+"Then you were behind us at the time of the attack?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In that case, of course, you heard the shots fired!... Let me see, you
+must have been on the Butte-aux-Loups...."
+
+"Somewhere near there...."
+
+"And perhaps you saw us.... From above!... With the moonlight!..."
+
+"Oh, no!" protested Philippe. "No, I saw nothing!"
+
+"But, if you heard the firing, you must certainly have heard Jorance
+shouting.... They stuffed a gag into my mouth.... But Jorance kept on
+roaring, 'We are in France! We are on French territory!' You heard
+Jorance shouting, didn't you, now?"
+
+Philippe hesitated before making a reply of which he vaguely felt the
+tremendous importance. But, opposite him, he saw Marthe watching him
+with increasing surprise and, near Marthe, he saw Suzanne's drawn
+features. He said:
+
+"Yes, I heard him ... I heard him at a distance...."
+
+Old Morestal could not contain himself for joy. And, when he learnt
+besides that Philippe had received the last words of Baufeld the
+deserter, he burst out:
+
+"You saw him? He was alive? He told you that they had set a trap for us,
+didn't he?"
+
+"He mentioned the name of Dourlowski."
+
+"Capital! But our meeting with the soldier, the pursuit ... he must have
+told you that all this took place in France?"
+
+"Yes, I seemed to understand ..."
+
+"We've got them!" shouted Morestal. "We've got them! Of course, I was
+quite easy in my mind.... But all the same, Philippe's evidence, the
+declaration of the dying private.... Ah, the brigands, they'll have to
+let go their prey!... We were in France, kind friends! There has been a
+violation of the frontier!"
+
+Philippe saw that he had gone too far; and he objected:
+
+"My evidence is not evidence in the proper sense of the word.... As for
+the soldier, I could hardly make out ..."
+
+"We've got them, I tell you. The little that you were able to see, the
+little that you were able to hear all agrees with my own evidence, that
+is to say, with the truth. We've got them! And here come the gentlemen
+from the public prosecutor's office, who will be of my opinion, I bet
+you what you like! And it won't take long either! Jorance will be free
+to-morrow."
+
+He dropped the pen, which he had taken up in order to write his report
+himself, and went quickly to the window, attracted by the sound of a
+motor-car sweeping round the garden-lawn:
+
+"The sub-prefect," he said. "By Jove, so the government know about it!
+The examining-magistrate and the prosecutor.... Ha, ha, they are not
+wasting any time, I see!... Quick, mother, have them shown in here....
+I'll be back in a minute: I must just put on a collar and change my
+jacket...."
+
+"Father!"
+
+Morestal stopped in the doorway:
+
+"What is it, my boy?" he asked.
+
+"I have something to say to you," said Philippe, resolutely.
+
+"All right. But it'll keep until presently, won't it?"
+
+"I have something to say to you now."
+
+"Oh! In that case, come along with me. Yes, you can give me a hand,
+instead of Victor, who is out."
+
+And, laughing, he went to his room.
+
+Marthe involuntarily took a few steps, as though she proposed to be
+present at the conversation. Philippe experienced a momentary
+embarrassment. Then he quickly made up his mind:
+
+"No, Marthe, you had better stay."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"No, once more, no. Excuse me. I will explain later...."
+
+And he followed his father.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+As soon as they were alone, Morestal, who was thinking much more about
+his evidence than about Philippe's words, asked, casually:
+
+"Is it private?"
+
+"Yes ... and very serious," Philippe declared.
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Very serious, as you will see in a moment, father.... It's about a
+position in which I find myself placed, a horrible position which I
+don't know how to get out of, unless ..."
+
+He went no further. Acting under an instinctive impulse, thrown off his
+balance by the arrival of the examining-magistrate and by a sudden
+vision of the events to come, he had appealed to his father. He wanted
+to speak, to say the words that would deliver him. What words? He did
+not quite know. But anything, anything rather than give false evidence
+and affix his signature to a lying deposition!
+
+He stammered at first, while his brain refused to act, seeking in vain
+for an acceptable solution. How was he to stop on the downward course
+along which he was being dragged by a combination of hostile forces,
+accidents, coincidences and implacable, trifling facts? How was he to
+break through the circle which a cruel fate was doing its utmost to
+trace around him?
+
+It suddenly burst in upon him that the only possible way out lay in
+proclaiming the immediate truth, in bluntly revealing his conduct.
+
+He shuddered with disgust. What! Accuse Suzanne! Was that the
+half-formed idea that inspired him, unknown to himself? Had he really
+thought of ruining her in order that he might be saved? It was now that
+he first realized the full nature of his predicament, for he would a
+thousand times rather have died than dishonour the girl, even in his
+father's eyes alone.
+
+Morestal, who had finished dressing, chaffed him:
+
+"Is that all you wanted to say?"
+
+"Yes.... I made a mistake," replied Philippe. "I thought ..."
+
+He was leaning on the window-rail and looked out inertly at the large
+sort of park formed by the clustering trees and the undulating meadows
+of the Vosges. He was now obsessed by other thoughts, which mingled with
+his own anxiety. He went back to old Morestal:
+
+"Are you quite sure that the arrest took place on French soil?"
+
+"Upon my word, you must be mad!"
+
+"It's possible that, without noticing it, you crossed the
+frontier-line...."
+
+"Yes ... exactly ... so we did. But, at the moment of the first attack
+and again at the moment of the arrest, we were in France. There is no
+doubt about that."
+
+"Just think, father, if there were the slightest doubt!..."
+
+"Well, what then? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that this incident will have further consequences. The affair
+will create a noise."
+
+"What do I care? The truth comes first, surely? Once we are in the
+right, we are bound to see that our rights are recognized and that
+Jorance is released."
+
+Morestal planted himself firmly in front of his son:
+
+"You're of my way of thinking, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How do you mean, no?"
+
+"Listen, father: the circumstances seem to me to be very serious. The
+examining-magistrate's enquiry is most important. It will serve as a
+basis for later enquiries. It seems to me that we ought to reflect and
+give our evidence with a certain reserve, with caution.... We must
+behave prudently...."
+
+"We must behave like Frenchmen who are in the right," cried Morestal,
+"and who, when they are in the right, fear nobody and nothing in this
+world!"
+
+"Not even war?"
+
+"War! What are you talking about? War! But there can't be war over an
+incident like this! The way things are shaping, Germany will yield."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Philippe, who seemed relieved by this assertion.
+
+"Certainly! But on one condition, that we establish our right firmly.
+There has been a violation of the frontier. That is beyond dispute. Let
+us prove it; and every chance of a conflict is removed."
+
+"But, if we don't succeed in proving it?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Ah, in that case, it can't be helped!... Of course, they will dispute
+it. But have no fear, my boy: the proofs exist; and we can safely go
+ahead.... Come along, they're waiting for us downstairs...."
+
+He grasped the door-handle.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Look here, what's the matter with you to-day? Aren't you coming?"
+
+"No, not yet," said Philippe, who saw a way out and who was making a
+last effort to escape. "Presently.... I must absolutely tell you.... You
+and I start from a different point of view.... I have rather different
+ideas from yours ... and, as the occasion happens to present itself ..."
+
+"Impossible, my boy! They are waiting for us...."
+
+"You must hear me," cried Philippe, blocking the way. "I refuse to
+accept with a light heart a responsibility that is not in accordance
+with my present opinions; and that is why an explanation between us has
+become inevitable."
+
+Morestal looked at him with an air of amazement:
+
+"Your present opinions! Ideas different from mine! What's all this
+nonsense?"
+
+Philippe felt, even more clearly than on the day before, the violence of
+a conflict which a confession would provoke. But, this time, his resolve
+was taken. There were too many reasons urging him towards a breach which
+he considered necessary. With his mind and his whole frame palpitating
+with his tense will, he was about to utter the irrevocable words, when
+Marthe hurried into the room:
+
+"Don't keep your father, Philippe; the examining-magistrate is asking
+for him."
+
+"Ah!" said Morestal. "I am not sorry that you have come to release me,
+my dear Marthe. Your husband's crazy. He's been talking a string of
+nonsense these past ten minutes. What you want, my boy, is rest."
+
+Philippe made a slight movement. Marthe whispered:
+
+"Be quiet."
+
+And she said it in so imperious a tone that he was taken aback.
+
+Before leaving the room, Morestal walked to the window. Bugle-notes
+sounded in the distance and he leant out to hear them better.
+
+Marthe at once said to Philippe:
+
+"I came in on chance. I felt that you were seeking an explanation with
+your father."
+
+"Yes, I had to."
+
+"About your ideas, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, I must."
+
+"Your father is ill.... It's his heart.... A fit of anger might prove
+fatal ... especially after last night. Not a word, Philippe."
+
+At that moment, Morestal closed the window. He passed in front of them
+and then, turning and placing his hand on his son's shoulder, he
+murmured, in accents of restrained ardour:
+
+"Do you hear the enemy's bugle, over there? Ah, Philippe, I don't want
+it to become a war-song!... But, all the same, if it should ... if it
+should!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+At one o'clock on the afternoon of Tuesday the 2nd of September,
+Philippe, sitting opposite his father, before the pensive eyes of
+Marthe, before the anxious eyes of Suzanne, Philippe, after relating
+most minutely his conversation with the dying soldier, declared that he
+had heard at a distance the cries of protest uttered by Jorance, the
+special commissary.
+
+Having made the declaration, he signed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ENQUIRIES
+
+
+The tragedy enacted that night and morning was so harsh, so virulent and
+so swift that it left the inmates of the Old Mill as though stunned.
+Instead of uniting them in a common emotion, it scattered them, giving
+each of them an impression of discomfort and uneasiness.
+
+In Philippe, this took the form of a state of torpor that kept him
+asleep until the next morning. He awoke, however, in excellent
+condition, but with an immense longing for solitude. In reality, he
+shrank from finding himself in the presence of his father and his wife.
+
+He went out, therefore, very early, across the woods and fields, stopped
+at an inn, climbed the Ballon de Vergix and did not come home until
+lunch-time. He was very calm by then and quite master of himself.
+
+To men like Philippe, men endowed with upright natures and generous
+minds, but not prone to waste time in reflecting upon the minor cases of
+conscience that arise in daily life, the sense of duty performed
+becomes, at critical periods, a sort of standard by which they judge
+their actions. This sense Philippe experienced in all its fulness.
+Placed by a series of abnormal circumstances between the necessity of
+betraying Suzanne or the necessity of swearing upon oath to a thing
+which he did not know, he felt that he was certainly entitled to lie.
+The lie seemed just and natural. He did not deny the fault which he had
+committed in succumbing to the young girl's fascinations and wiles: but,
+having committed the fault, he owed it to Suzanne to keep it secret,
+whatever the consequences of his discretion might be. There was no
+excuse that permitted him to break silence.
+
+He found, on the drawing-room table, the three newspapers which were
+taken at the Old Mill: the _Eclaireur des Vosges_; a Paris
+evening-paper; and the _Boersweilener Zeitung_, a morning-paper printed
+in German, but French in tone and inspiration. A glance at these
+completely reassured him. Amid the confusion of the first reports
+devoted to the Jorance case, his own part passed almost unnoticed. The
+_Eclaireur des Vosges_ summoned up his evidence in a couple of lines.
+When all was said, he was and would be no more than a supernumerary.
+
+"A walking gentleman, at the outside," he murmured, with satisfaction.
+
+"Yes, at the outside. It's your father and M. Jorance who play the star
+parts."
+
+Marthe had entered and caught his last words, which he had spoken aloud,
+and was answering him with a laugh.
+
+She put her arm around his neck with the fond gesture usual to her and
+said:
+
+"Yes, Philippe, you need not worry yourself. Your evidence is of no
+importance and cannot influence events in any way. You can be very sure
+of that."
+
+Their faces were quite close together and Philippe read nothing but
+gaiety and affection in Marthe's eyes.
+
+He understood that she had ascribed his behaviour of the previous day,
+his first, false version, his reticence and his confusion to scruples of
+conscience and vague apprehensions. Anxious about the consequences of
+the business and dreading lest his testimony might complicate it, he had
+tried to avoid the annoyance of giving evidence.
+
+"I believe you're right," he said, with a view to confirming her in her
+mistake. "Besides, is the business so very serious?"
+
+They talked together for a few minutes and, gradually, while watching
+her, he changed the subject to the Jorances:
+
+"Has Suzanne been this morning?"
+
+Marthe appeared astonished:
+
+"Suzanne?" she said. "Don't you know?... Oh, of course, you were asleep
+last evening. Suzanne spent the night here."
+
+He turned aside his head, to hide the flush that spread over his
+features, and he said:
+
+"Oh, she slept here, did she?"
+
+"Yes. M. Morestal wishes her to stay with us until M. Jorance's return."
+
+"But ... but where is she now?..."
+
+"She is at Boersweilen ... she has gone to ask for leave to see her
+father."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"No, Victor went with her."
+
+With an air of indifference, Philippe asked:
+
+"How is she? Depressed?"
+
+"Very much depressed.... I don't know why, but she imagines that it was
+her fault that her father was kidnapped.... She says she urged him to go
+for that walk!... Poor Suzanne, what interest could she have in
+remaining alone?..."
+
+He plainly perceived, from his wife's voice and attitude, that, although
+certain coincidences had surprised her, her mind had not been touched by
+the shadow of a suspicion. On that side, everything was over. The danger
+was averted.
+
+Happily released from his fears, Philippe had the further satisfaction
+of learning that his father had spent a very good night and that he had
+gone to the town-hall at Saint-Elophe. He questioned his mother. Mme.
+Morestal, yielding like Philippe to that desire for assuagement and
+security which comes over us after any great shock, reassured him on the
+subject of the old man's health. Certainly, there was something the
+matter with the heart: Dr. Borel insisted upon his leading the most
+regular and monotonous life. But Dr. Borel always looked at the dark
+side of things; and, all considered, Morestal had borne the fatigue
+attendant on his capture and escape, hard though it was, very well
+indeed.
+
+"Besides, you have only to look at him," she concluded. "Here he comes,
+back from Saint-Elophe."
+
+They saw him alight from the carriage with the brisk and springy step of
+a young man. He joined them in the drawing-room and at once cried:
+
+"Oh, what an uproar! I've telephoned to town.... They're talking of
+nothing else.... And who do you think swooped down upon me at
+Saint-Elophe? Quite half-a-dozen reporters! I sent them away with a flea
+in their ears! A set of fellows who make mischief wherever they go and
+who arrange everything as it suits them!... They're the scourge of our
+time!... I shall give Catherine formal orders that no one is to be
+admitted to the Old Mill.... Why, did you see how they report my
+escape? I'm supposed to have strangled the sentry and to have made a
+couple of Uhlans who pursued me bite the dust!..."
+
+He could not succeed in concealing his satisfaction and drew himself to
+his full height, like a man who sees nothing astonishing in an exploit
+of that kind.
+
+Philippe asked.
+
+"And what is the general feeling?"
+
+"Just what the papers say. Jorance's release is imminent. I told you as
+much. The more we assert ourselves, as we have every right to do, the
+sooner the thing will be over. You must understand that friend Jorance
+is being examined at this moment and that he is giving exactly the same
+replies that I did. So you see!... No, once more, Germany will give way.
+It is only a question of a day or two. So don't upset yourself, my boy,
+since you're so afraid of war ... and the responsibilities attaching to
+it!..."
+
+This, when all was said and done, was the motive to which he, like
+Marthe, ascribed the incoherent words which Philippe had uttered
+previous to his appearance before the magistrates; and, without going
+deeper into the matter, it gave him, on his side, a certain sense of
+anger, mingled with a mild contempt. Philippe Morestal, old Morestal's
+son, afraid of war! He was one more corrupted by the Paris poison!...
+
+Lunch was very lively. The old man never ceased talking. His
+good-humour, his optimism, his steady belief in a favourable and
+immediate solution overcame every resistance; and Philippe himself was
+glad to share a conviction that delighted him.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The afternoon was continued under equally propitious auspices. Morestal
+and Philippe were sent for to the frontier, where, in the presence of
+the public prosecutor, the sub-prefect, the sergeant of gendarmes and a
+number of journalists whom they tried in vain to send away, the
+examining-magistrate carefully completed the investigations which he had
+begun the day before. Morestal had to repeat the story of the aggression
+on the spot where it occurred, to point definitely to the road followed
+before the attack and during the flight, to fix the place where Private
+Baufeld had crossed the frontier-line and the place where the commissary
+and himself were arrested.
+
+He did so without hesitation, walking to and fro, talking and making his
+statements so positively, so logically and so sincerely that the scene,
+as pictured by him, lived again before the spectators' eyes. His
+demonstration was lucid and commanding. Here, the first shot was fired.
+There, a sharp divergence to the right, on German territory. Here, back
+in France and, further on, at that exact spot, fifteen yards on this
+side of the frontier, the scene of the fight, the place of the arrest.
+Indications, undeniable indications, abounded. It was the truth, with no
+possible fear of a mistake.
+
+Philippe was carried away and categorically confirmed his original
+declaration. He had heard the special commissary shouting, as he
+approached the Butte-aux-Loups. The words, "We are in France!... There
+is the frontier!" had reached him distinctly. And he described his
+search, his conversation with Private Baufeld and the wounded man's
+evidence concerning the encroachment on French territory.
+
+The enquiry ended with a piece of good news. On Monday, a few hours
+before the attack, Farmer Saboureux was said to have seen Weisslicht,
+the chief of the German detectives, and a certain Dourlowski, a hawker,
+walking in the woods and trying to keep hidden. Now Morestal, without
+confessing the relations that existed between him and that individual,
+had nevertheless spoken of the visit of this Dourlowski and of his
+proposal that the witness should act as an accomplice. An understanding
+between Dourlowski and Weisslicht was a proof that an ambush had been
+laid and that the passing of Private Baufeld across the frontier,
+arranged for half-past ten, was only a pretext to catch the special
+commissary and his friend in a trap.
+
+The magistrates made no secret of their satisfaction. The Jorance case,
+a plot hatched by subordinate officials of police, whom the imperial
+government would not hesitate to disown was becoming rapidly reduced to
+the proportions of an incident which would lead to nothing and be
+forgotten on the morrow.
+
+"That's all right," said Morestal, walking away with his son, while the
+magistrates went on to Saboureux's Farm. "It will be an even simpler
+matter than I hoped. The French government will know the results of the
+enquiry this evening. There will be an exchange of views with the German
+embassy; and to-morrow ..."
+
+"Do you think so?..."
+
+"I go further. I believe that Germany will make the first advance."
+
+As they came to the Col du Diable, they passed a small company of men
+headed by one in a gold-laced cap.
+
+Morestal took off his hat with a flourish and grinned:
+
+"Good-afternoon!... I hope I see you well!"
+
+The man passed without speaking.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Philippe.
+
+"Weisslicht, the chief of the detectives."
+
+"And the others?"
+
+"The others?... It's the Germans making their investigation."
+
+It was then four o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The remainder of that day passed peacefully at the Old Mill. Suzanne
+arrived from Boersweilen at nightfall, looking radiant. They had given
+her a letter from her father and she would be authorized to see him on
+Saturday.
+
+"You will not even have to go back to Boersweilen," said Morestal. "Your
+father will come to fetch you here, won't he, Philippe?"
+
+Dinner brought them all five together under the family lamp; and they
+experienced a feeling of relaxation, comfort and repose. They drank to
+the special commissary's health. And it seemed to them as if his place
+were not even empty, so great was the certainty with which they expected
+his return.
+
+Philippe was the only one who did not share in the general gaiety.
+Sitting beside Marthe and opposite Suzanne, he was bound, with his
+upright nature and his sane judgment, to suffer at finding himself
+situated in such a false position. Since the night before last, since
+the moment when he had left Suzanne while the dawning light of day stole
+into her room at Saint-Elophe, this was the first instant that he had
+had any sort of time to conjure up the memory of those unnerving hours.
+Alarmed by the course of events, obsessed by his anxiety about the way
+in which he was to act, his one and only thought of Suzanne had been how
+not to compromise her.
+
+Now, he saw her before him. He heard her laugh and talk. She lived in
+his presence, not as he had known her in Paris and found her at
+Saint-Elophe, but adorned with a different charm, of which he knew the
+mysterious secret. True, he remained master of himself and he clearly
+felt that no temptation would induce him to succumb a second time. But
+could he help it that she had fair hair, the colour of which bewitched
+him, and quivering lips and a voice melodious as a song? And could he
+help it that all this filled him with an emotion which every minute that
+passed made more profound?
+
+Their eyes met. Suzanne trembled under Philippe's gaze. A sort of
+bashfulness decked her as with a veil that gives added beauty to its
+wearer. She was as desirable as a wife and as winsome as a bride.
+
+At that moment, Marthe smiled to Philippe. He turned red and thought:
+
+"I shall go away to-morrow."
+
+His decision was taken then and there. He would not remain a day longer
+between the two women. The mere sight of their intimacy was hateful to
+him. He would go away without a word. He knew the danger of
+leave-takings between people who love, knew how they soften us and
+disarm us. He wanted none of those compromises and evasions. Temptation,
+even if we resist it, is a fault in itself.
+
+When dinner was over, he stood up and went to his bedroom, where Marthe
+joined him. He learnt from her that Suzanne's room was on the same
+floor. Later, he heard the young girl come upstairs. But he knew that
+nothing would make him fall again.
+
+As soon as he was alone, he opened his window, sat a long time staring
+at the vague outlines of the trees, then undressed and went to bed.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In the morning, Marthe brought him his letters. He at once recognized
+the writing of a friend on one of the envelopes:
+
+"Good!" he said, jumping at the pretext. "A letter from Pierre Belum. I
+hope it's not to tell me to come back!"
+
+He opened the letter and, after reading it, said:
+
+"It's as I feared! I shall have to go."
+
+"Not before this evening, my boy."
+
+It was old Morestal, who had entered the room with an open letter in his
+hand.
+
+"What's the matter, father?"
+
+"We are specially summoned to appear before the Prefect of the Vosges in
+the town-hall at Saint-Elophe."
+
+"I too?"
+
+"You too. They want to verify certain points in your deposition."
+
+"So they are beginning all over again?"
+
+"Yes, it's a fresh enquiry. It appears that things are becoming
+complicated."
+
+"What are you saying?"
+
+"I am saying what this morning's papers say. According to the latest
+telegrams, Germany has no intention of releasing Jorance. Moreover,
+there have been manifestations in Paris. Berlin also is stirring. The
+yellow press are adopting an arrogant tone. In short ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Well, the matter is taking a very nasty turn."
+
+Philippe gave a start. He walked up to his father and, yielding to a
+sudden fit of anger:
+
+"There! Which of us was right? You see, you see what's happening now!
+If you had listened to me ..."
+
+"If I had listened to you?..." echoed Morestal, emphasizing each word
+and at once preparing for a quarrel.
+
+But Philippe restrained himself. Marthe made a remark or two at random.
+And then all three were silent.
+
+Besides, of what use was speech? The thunderstorm had passed over their
+heads and was rumbling over France. Henceforward powerless, they must
+undergo its consequences and hear its distant echoes without being able
+to influence the formidable elements that had been let loose during that
+Monday night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE THUNDERCLAP
+
+
+The German argument was simple enough: the arrest had taken place in
+Germany. At least, that was what the newspapers stated in the extracts
+which Philippe and his father read in the _Boersweilener Zeitung_. Was it
+not to be expected that this would be the argument eventually
+adopted--if it was not adopted already--by the imperial government?
+
+At Boersweilen--the _Zeitung_ made no mystery about it--people were very
+positive. After twenty-four hours' silence, the authorities took their
+stand upon the explanation given the day before by Weisslicht, in the
+course of an enquiry attended by several functionaries, who were
+mentioned by name; and they declared aloud that everything had taken
+place in due form and that it was impossible to go back upon
+accomplished facts. Special Commissary Jorance and Councillor Morestal,
+caught in the act of assisting a deserter, would be brought before the
+German courts and their case tried in accordance with German law.
+Besides, it was added, there were other charges against them.
+
+Of Dourlowski, there was no mention. He was ignored.
+
+"But the whole case depends upon him!" exclaimed Morestal, after
+receiving the Prefect of the Vosges at the Saint-Elophe town-hall and
+discussing the German argument with him and the examining-magistrate.
+"The whole case depends upon him, monsieur le prefet. Even supposing
+their argument to be correct, what is it worth, if we prove that we were
+drawn into an ambush by Weisslicht and that Baufeld's desertion was a
+got-up job contrived by subordinate officials of police? And the proof
+of this rests upon Dourlowski!"
+
+He was indignant at the hawker's disappearance. But he added:
+
+"Fortunately, we have Farmer Saboureux's evidence."
+
+"We had it yesterday," said the examining-magistrate, "but we haven't it
+to-day."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Yesterday, Wednesday, when I was questioning him, Farmer Saboureux
+declared that he had seen Weisslicht and Dourlowski together. He even
+used certain words which made me suspect that he had noticed the
+preparations for the attack and that he was an unseen witness of it ...
+and a valuable witness, as you will agree. This morning, Thursday, he
+retracts, he is not sure that it was Weisslicht he saw and, at night, he
+was asleep ... he heard nothing ... not even the shooting.... And he
+lives at five hundred yards from the spot!"
+
+"I never heard of such a thing! What does he mean by backing out like
+that?"
+
+"I can't say," replied the magistrate. "Still, I saw a copy of the
+_Boersweilener Zeitung_ sticking out of his pocket ... things have
+altered since yesterday ... and Saboureux has been reflecting...."
+
+"Do you think so? Is he afraid of war?"
+
+"Yes, afraid of reprisals. He told me an old story about Uhlans, about a
+farm that was burnt down. So that's what it is: he's afraid!..."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+The day began badly. Morestal and his son walked silently by the old
+road to the frontier, where the enquiry was resumed in detail. But, at
+the Butte, they saw three men in gold-laced caps smoking their pipes by
+the German frontier-post.
+
+And, further on, at the foot of the slope, in a sort of clearing on the
+left, they perceived two more, lying flat on their stomachs, who were
+also smoking.
+
+And, around these two, there were a number of freshly-painted
+black-and-yellow stakes, driven into the ground in a circle and roped
+together.
+
+In reply to a question put to them, the men said that that was the place
+where Commissary Jorance had been arrested.
+
+Now this place, adopted by the hostile enquiry, was on German territory
+and at twenty yards beyond the road that marked the dividing-line
+between the two countries!
+
+Philippe had to drag his father away. Old Morestal was choking with
+rage:
+
+"They are lying! They are lying! It's scandalous.... And they know it!
+Is it likely I should be mistaken? Why, I belong here! Whereas they ...
+a pack of police-spies!..."
+
+When he had grown calmer, he began his explanations over again. Philippe
+next repeated his, in less definite terms, this time, and with a
+hesitation which old Morestal, absorbed in his grievances, did not
+observe, but which could not well escape the others.
+
+The father and son returned to the Old Mill together, as on the day
+before. Morestal was no longer so triumphant and Philippe thought of
+Farmer Saboureux, who, warned by his peasant shrewdness, varied his
+evidence according to the threat of possible events.
+
+As soon as he reached home, he took refuge in his room. Marthe went up
+to him and found him lying on the bed, with his head between his hands.
+He would not even answer when she spoke to him. But, at four o'clock,
+hearing that his father, eager for news, had ordered the carriage, he
+went downstairs.
+
+They drove to Saint-Elophe and then, growing more and more anxious, to
+Noirmont, twelve miles beyond it, where Morestal had many friends. One
+of these took them to the offices of the _Eclaireur_.
+
+Here, nothing was known as yet: the telegraph-and telephone-wires were
+blocked. But, at eight o'clock, a first telegram got through: groups of
+people had raised manifestations outside the German embassy. On the
+Place de la Concorde, the statue of the city of Strasburg was covered
+with flags and flowers.
+
+Then the telegrams flowed in.
+
+Questioned in the Chamber, the prime minister had replied, amid the
+applause of the whole house:
+
+"We ask, we claim your absolute confidence, your blind confidence. If
+some of you refuse it to the minister, at least grant it to the
+Frenchman. For it is a Frenchman who speaks in your name. And it is a
+Frenchman who will act."
+
+In the lobby outside the house, a member of the opposition had begun to
+sing the _Marseillaise_, which was taken up by all the rest of the
+members in chorus.
+
+And then there was the other side of the question: telegrams from
+Germany; the yellow press rabid; all the evening-papers adopting an
+uncompromising, aggressive attitude; Berlin in uproar....
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+They drove back at midnight; and, although they were both seized with a
+like emotion, it aroused in them ideas so different that they did not
+exchange a word. Morestal himself, who was not aware of the divorce that
+had taken place between their minds, dared not indulge in his usual
+speeches.
+
+The next morning, the _Boersweilener Zeitung_ announced movements of
+troops towards the frontier. The emperor, who was cruising in the North
+Sea, had landed at Ostende. The chancellor was waiting for him at
+Cologne. And it was thought that the French ambassador had also gone to
+meet him.
+
+Thenceforward, throughout that Friday and the following Saturday, the
+inmates of the Old Mill lived in a horrible nightmare. The storm was now
+shaking the whole of France and Germany, the whole of quivering Europe.
+They heard it roar. The earth cracked under its fury. What terrible
+catastrophe would it produce?
+
+And they, who had let it loose--the actors of no account, relegated to
+the background, the supernumeraries whose parts were played--they could
+see nothing of the spectacle but distant, blood-red gleams.
+
+Philippe took refuge in a fierce silence that distressed his wife.
+Morestal was nervous, excited and in an execrable temper. He went out
+for no reason, came in again at once, could not keep still:
+
+"Ah," he cried, in a moment of despondency in which his thoughts stood
+plainly revealed, "why did we come home by the frontier? Why did I help
+that deserter? For there's no denying it: if I hadn't helped him,
+nothing would have happened."
+
+On Friday evening, it became known that the chancellor, who already had
+the German reports in his hands, now possessed the French papers, which
+had been communicated by our ambassador. The affair, hitherto purely
+administrative, was becoming diplomatic. And the government was
+demanding the release of the special commissary of Saint-Elophe, who had
+been arrested on French territory.
+
+"If they consent, all will be well," said Morestal. "There is no
+humiliation for Germany in disowning the action of a pack of minor
+officials. But, if they refuse, if they believe the policemen's lies,
+what will happen then? France cannot give way."
+
+On Saturday morning, the _Boersweilener Zeitung_ printed the following
+short paragraph in a special edition:
+
+
+     "After making a careful examination of the French papers, the
+     chancellor has returned them to the French ambassador. The case of
+     Commissary Jorance, accused of the crime of high treason and
+     arrested on German territory, will be tried in the German courts."
+
+
+It was a refusal.
+
+That morning, Morestal took his son to the Col du Diable and, bent in
+two, following the road to the Butte-aux-Loups step by step, examining
+each winding turn, noting a big root here and a long branch there, he
+reconstituted the plan of the attack. And he showed Philippe the trees
+against which he had brushed in his flight and the trees at the foot of
+which he and his friend had stood and defended themselves:
+
+"It was there, Philippe, and nowhere else.... Do you see that little
+open space? That's where it was.... I have often come and smoked my pipe
+here, because of this little mound to sit upon.... That's the place!"
+
+He sat down on the same mound and said no more, staring before him,
+while Philippe looked at him. Several times, he repeated, between his
+teeth:
+
+"Yes, this is certainly the place.... How could I be mistaken?"
+
+And, suddenly, he pressed his two fists to his temples and blurted out:
+
+"Still, suppose I were mistaken! Suppose I had branched off more to the
+right ... and ..."
+
+He interrupted himself, cast his eyes around him, rising to his feet:
+
+"It's impossible! One can't make as big a blunder as that, short of
+being mad! How could I have? I was thinking of one thing only; I kept
+saying to myself, 'I must remain in France, I must keep to the left of
+the line.' And I did keep to it, hang it all! It is absolutely
+certain.... What then? Am I to deny the truth in order to please them?"
+
+And Philippe, who had never ceased watching him, replied, within
+himself:
+
+"Why not, father? What would that little falsehood signify, compared
+with the magnificent result that would be obtained? If you would tell a
+lie, father, or if only you would assert so fatal a truth less forcibly,
+France could give way without the least disgrace, since it is your
+evidence alone that compels her to make her demand! And, in this way,
+you would have saved your country...."
+
+But he did not speak. His father was guided by a conception of duty
+which Philippe knew to be as lofty and as legitimate as his own. What
+right had he to expect his father to act according to his, Philippe's,
+conscience? What to one of them would be only a fib would be to the
+other, to old Morestal, a criminal betrayal of his own side. Morestal,
+when giving his evidence, was speaking in the name of France. And France
+does not tell lies.
+
+"If there is a possible solution," Philippe said to himself, "my father
+is not the man to be asked to provide it. My father represents a mass of
+intangible ideas, principles and traditions. But I, I, I ... what can I
+do? What is my particular duty? What is the object for which I ought to
+make in spite of every obstacle?"
+
+Twenty times over, he was on the point of exclaiming:
+
+"My evidence was false, father. I was not there. I was with Suzanne!"
+
+What was the use? It meant dishonouring Suzanne; and the implacable
+march of events would continue just the same. Now that was the only
+thing that mattered. Every individual suffering, every attack of
+conscience, every theory, all vanished before the tremendous catastrophe
+with which humanity was threatened and before the task that devolved
+upon men like himself, men emancipated from the past and free to act in
+accordance with a new conception of duty.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In the afternoon, they heard at the offices of the _Eclaireur_ that a
+bomb had burst behind the German ambassador's motor-car in Paris. In the
+Latin Quarter, the ferment was at its height. Two Germans had been
+roughly handled and a Russian, accused of spying, had been knocked down.
+There had been free fights at Lyons, Toulouse and Bordeaux.
+
+Similar disorders had taken place in Berlin and in the other big towns
+of the German Empire. The military party was directing the movement.
+
+Lastly, at six o'clock, it was announced as certain that Germany was
+mobilizing three army-corps.
+
+A tragic evening was spent at the Old Mill. Suzanne arrived from
+Boersweilen without having been allowed to see her father and added to
+the general distress by her sobs and lamentations. Morestal and
+Philippe, silent and fever-eyed, seemed to avoid each other. Marthe, who
+suspected her husband's anguish, kept her eyes fixed upon him, as though
+she feared some inconsiderate act on his part. And the same dread seemed
+to trouble Mme. Morestal, for she warned Philippe, time after time:
+
+"Whatever you do, no arguments with your father. He is not well. All
+this business upsets him quite enough as it is. A quarrel between the
+two of you would be terrible."
+
+And this also, the idea of this illness of which he did not know the
+exact nature, but to which his heated imagination lent an added
+importance, this also tortured Philippe.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+They all rose on the Sunday morning with the certainty that the news of
+war would reach them in the course of the day; and old Morestal was on
+the point of leaving for Saint-Elophe, to make the necessary
+arrangements in case of an alarm, when a ring of the telephone stopped
+him. It was the sub-prefect at Noirmont, who conveyed a fresh order to
+him from the prefecture. The two Morestals were to be at the
+Butte-aux-Loups at twelve o'clock.
+
+A moment later, a telegram that appeared at the top of the front page of
+the _Eclaireur des Vosges_ told them the meaning of this third summons:
+
+
+     "The German ambassador called on the prime minister at ten o'clock
+     yesterday, Saturday, evening. After a long conversation, when on
+     the point of concluding an interview that seemed unable to lead to
+     any result, the ambassador received by express a personal note
+     from the emperor, which he at once handed to the prime minister. In
+     this note, the emperor proposed a renewed examination of the
+     affair, for which purpose he would delegate the Governor of
+     Alsace-Lorraine, with instructions to check the report of the
+     police. An understanding was at once arrived at on this basis; and
+     the French government has appointed a member of the cabinet, M. Le
+     Corbier, under-secretary of state for home affairs, to act as its
+     representative. It is possible that an interview may take place
+     between these two prominent personages."
+
+
+And the newspaper added:
+
+
+     "This intervention on the part of the emperor is a proof of his
+     peaceful intentions, but it can hardly be said to alter the
+     situation. If France be in the wrong--and it were almost to be
+     hoped that she may be--then France will yield. But, if it be once
+     more proved on our side that the arrest took place on French soil
+     and if Germany refuse to yield, what will happen then?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BUTTE-AUX-LOUPS
+
+
+Whatever might be the eventual outcome of this last effort, it was a
+respite granted to the two nations. It gave a gleam of hope, it left a
+loop-hole, a chance of an arrangement.
+
+And old Morestal, seized with fresh confidence and already triumphant,
+rejoiced, as he could not fail to do:
+
+"Why, of course," he concluded, "it will all be settled! Didn't I tell
+you so from the beginning, Philippe? It only wanted a little
+firmness.... We have spoken clearly; and, at once, under a show of
+conciliation which will deceive no one, the enemy forms a plan of
+retreat. For, mark you, that's all that it means...."
+
+And, as he continued to read the paper, he exclaimed:
+
+"Ah, just so!... I understand!... Listen, Philippe, to this little
+telegram, which sounds like nothing at all: 'England has recalled her
+squadrons from foreign waters and is concentrating them in the Channel
+and in the North Sea.' Aha, that solves the mystery! They have
+reflected ... and reflection is the mother of wisdom.... And here,
+Philippe, this other telegram, which is worth noting: 'Three hundred
+French aviators, from every part of France, have responded to the
+rousing appeal issued by Captain Leriot of the territorials, the hero of
+the Channel crossing. They will all be at Chalons camp on Tuesday, with
+their aeroplanes!'... Ha, what do you say to that, my boy? On the one
+side, the British fleet.... On the other side, our air fleet.... Wipe
+your pretty eyes, my sweet Suzanne, and get supper ready this evening
+for Papa Jorance! Ah, this time, mother, we'll drink champagne!"
+
+His gaiety sounded a little forced and found no echo in his hearers.
+Philippe remained silent, with his forehead streaked with a wrinkle
+which Marthe knew well. From his appearance, from the tired look of his
+eyelids, she felt certain that he had sat up all night, examining the
+position from every point of view and seeking the best road to follow.
+Had he taken a resolution? And, if so, which? He seemed so hard, so
+stern, so close and reticent that she dared not ask him.
+
+After a hastily-served meal, Morestal, on the receipt of a second
+telephonic communication, hurried off to Saint-Elophe, where M. Le
+Corbier, the under-secretary of state, was waiting for him.
+
+Philippe, the time of whose summons had been postponed, went to his
+room and locked himself in.
+
+When he came down again, he found Marthe and Suzanne, who had decided to
+go with him. Mme. Morestal took him aside and, for the last time, urged
+him to look after his father.
+
+The three of them walked away to the Col du Diable. A lowering sky,
+heavy with clouds, hung over the mountain-tops; but the weather was mild
+and the swards, studded with trees, still wore a look of summer.
+
+Marthe, to break the silence, said:
+
+"There is something soft and peaceful about the air to-day. That's a
+good sign. It will influence the people who are conducting the enquiry.
+For everything depends upon their humour, their impression, the state of
+their nerves, does it not, Philippe?"
+
+"Yes," he said, "everything depends on them."
+
+She continued:
+
+"I don't think that they will ask you any questions. Your evidence is of
+such little importance. You see, the papers hardly mention it....
+Except, of course, in so far as Dourlowski is concerned.... As for him,
+they haven't found him yet...."
+
+Philippe did not reply. Had he as much as heard? With short movements of
+his stick, he was striking the heads off the flowers that lined the
+road: harebells, wild thyme, gentians, angelica. Marthe remembered that
+this was a trick which he used to condemn in his sons.
+
+Before coming to the pass, the road narrowed into a path that wound
+through the woods, clinging to the roots of the fir-trees. They climbed
+it one behind the other. Marthe was in front of Philippe and Suzanne.
+Half-way up, the path made a sudden bend. When Marthe was out of sight,
+Philippe felt Suzanne's hand squeeze his and hold him back.
+
+He stopped. She nimbly pulled herself up to him:
+
+"Philippe, you are sad.... It's not about me, is it?"
+
+"No," he confessed, frankly.
+
+"I knew it," she said, without bitterness. "So much has happened these
+last three days!... I no longer count with you."
+
+He made no attempt at protest, for it was true. He thought of her
+sometimes, but in a casual way, as of a woman whom one loves, whom one
+covets, but whom one has no time to think about. He did not even analyze
+his feelings. They were mixed up with all the other troubles that
+overwhelmed him.
+
+"I shall never forget you, Suzanne," he said.
+
+"I know, Philippe. And I neither, I shall never forget you.... Only, I
+wanted to tell you this, which will give you a little happiness:
+Philippe, I give you my promise that I will face the life before me ...
+that I will make a fresh start.... What I told you is happening within
+me.... I have more courage now that I ... now that I have that memory to
+support me.... You have given me happiness enough to last me all my
+life.... I shall be what I should not have been ... an honest woman....
+I swear it, Philippe ... and a good wife...."
+
+He understood that she meant to be married and he suffered at the
+thought. But he said to her, gently, after looking at her lips, her bare
+neck, her whole charming, fragrant and tantalizing person:
+
+"Thank you, Suzanne.... It is the best proof of your love.... I thank
+you."
+
+She went on to say to him:
+
+"And then, Philippe, you see, I don't want to give my father pain....
+Any one can feel that he has been very unhappy.... And the reason why I
+was afraid, the other morning, that Marthe might discover the truth ...
+was because of him."
+
+"You need not fear, Suzanne."
+
+"I need not, need I?" she said. "There is no danger of it.... And yet,
+this enquiry.... If you were compelled to confess?..."
+
+"Oh, Suzanne, how can you think it?"
+
+Their eyes mingled fondly, their hands had not parted. Philippe would
+have liked to speak affectionate words and especially to say how much he
+hoped that she would be happy. But no words rose to his lips save words
+of love; and he would not....
+
+She gave a smile. A tear shone at the tip of her lashes. She stammered:
+
+"I love you.... I shall always love you."
+
+Then she released her hand.
+
+Marthe, who had turned back, saw them standing together, motionless.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+When they emerged at the corner of the Albern Path, they saw a group of
+journalists and sightseers gathered behind half-a-dozen gendarmes. The
+whole road was thus guarded, as far as the Saint-Elophe rise. And, on
+the right, German gendarmes stood posted at intervals.
+
+They reached the Butte. The Butte is a large round clearing, on almost
+level ground, surrounded by a circle of ancestral trees arranged like
+the colonnade of a temple. The road, a neutral zone, seven feet wide,
+runs through the middle.
+
+On the west, the French frontier-post, in plain black cast-iron and
+bearing a slab with directions, like a sign-post.
+
+On the east, the German post, in wood painted with a black and white
+spiral and surmounted by an escutcheon with the words, "_Deutsches
+Reich_."
+
+Two military tents had been pitched for the double enquiry and were
+separated by a space of fifty or sixty yards. Above each waved the flag
+of its respective country. A soldier was on guard outside either tent: a
+Prussian infantryman, helmet on head, shin-strap buckled; an Alpine
+rifleman, bonneted and gaitered. Each stood with his rifle at the order.
+
+Not far from them, on either side of the clearing, were two little camps
+pitched among the trees: French soldiers, German soldiers. And the
+officers formed two groups.
+
+French and German horizons showed in the mist between the branches.
+
+"You see, Marthe, you see," whispered Philippe, whose heart was gripped
+with emotion. "Isn't it terrible?"
+
+"Yes, yes," she said.
+
+But a young man came towards them, carrying under his arm a portfolio
+bulging with papers:
+
+"M. Philippe Morestal, I believe? I am M. de Trebons, attached to the
+department of the under-secretary of state. M. Le Corbier is talking to
+M. Morestal your father and begs that you will be good enough to wait."
+
+He took him, with Marthe and Suzanne, to the French camp, where they
+found, seated on a bench, Farmer Saboureux and Old Poussiere, who had
+likewise been summoned as witnesses. From there, they commanded the
+whole circus of the Butte.
+
+"How pale you look, Philippe!" said Marthe. "Are you ill?"
+
+"No," he said. "Please don't worry me."
+
+Half an hour passed. Then the canvas fly that closed the German tent was
+lifted and a number of persons came out.
+
+Suzanne gave a stifled cry:
+
+"Papa!... Look ... Oh, my poor father!... I must go and kiss him...."
+
+Philippe held her back and she obeyed, feebly. Jorance, besides, had
+disappeared, had been led by two gendarmes to the other camp; and
+Weisslicht the detective and his men were now being shown into the tent.
+
+But the French tent opened, an instant after, to let old Morestal out.
+M. de Trebons was with him and went back with Saboureux and Old
+Poussiere. All this coming and going seemed to take place by rule and
+was effected in great silence, interrupted only by the sound of the
+footsteps.
+
+Morestal also was very pale. As Philippe put no question to him, Marthe
+asked:
+
+"Are you satisfied, father?"
+
+"Yes, we began all over again from the start. I gave all my explanations
+on the spot. My proofs and arguments have made an impression on him. He
+is a serious man and he acts with great prudence."
+
+In a few minutes, M. de Trebons returned with Saboureux and Old
+Poussiere. Farmer Saboureux continued disputing, in a state of great
+excitement:
+
+"Hope they've finished this time! That makes three of them enquiring
+into me!... What do they want with me, after all? When I keep on telling
+everybody that I was fast asleep.... And Poussiere too.... Isn't it so,
+Poussiere, you and I saw none of it?"
+
+And, suddenly seizing M. de Trebons by the arm, he said, in a choking
+voice:
+
+"I say, there's not going to be a war, is there? Ah, no, we can't do
+with that! You can tell your gentry in Paris that we don't want it....
+Oh, no, I've toiled enough as it is! War indeed! Uhlans burning
+everything!..."
+
+He seemed terrified. His bony old hands clutched M. de Trebons' arm and
+his little eyes glittered with rage.
+
+Old Poussiere jerked his head and stammered:
+
+"Oh, no!... The Uhlans!... The Uhlans!..."
+
+M. de Trebons released himself gently and made them sit down. Then,
+going up to Marthe:
+
+"M. Le Corbier would be glad to see you, madame, at the same time as M.
+Philippe Morestal. And he also asks M. Morestal to be good enough to
+come back."
+
+The two Morestals and Marthe walked away, leaving Suzanne Jorance
+behind.
+
+But, at that moment, a strange thing happened, which, no doubt, had its
+effect on the march of events. From the German tent issued Weisslicht
+and his men, followed by an officer in full uniform, who crossed the
+open space, went up to M. de Trebons and told him that his excellency
+the Statthalter, having completed his enquiries, would feel greatly
+honoured if he could have a short conversation with the under-secretary
+of state.
+
+M. de Trebons at once informed M. Le Corbier, who, escorted by the
+German officer, walked towards the road, while M. de Trebons showed the
+Morestal family in.
+
+The tent, which was a fairly large one, was furnished with a few chairs
+and a table, on which lay the papers dealing with the case. A page lay
+open bearing Saboureux's clumsy signature and the mark made by Old
+Poussiere.
+
+The Morestals were sitting down, when a sound of voices struck their
+ears and, through the opening in the fly of the tent, they caught sight
+of a person in a general's uniform, very tall, very thin, looking like a
+bird of prey, but presenting a fine appearance in a long black tunic.
+With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he was striding along the road
+in the company of the under-secretary.
+
+Morestal whispered:
+
+"The Statthalter.... They have already had one meeting, an hour ago."
+
+The two men disappeared at the end of the Butte, then returned and, this
+time, doubtless embarrassed by the propinquity of the German officers,
+penetrated a few paces into French territory.
+
+A word, here and there, of the conversation reached the tent. Then the
+two speakers stood still and the Morestals distinctly heard the
+Statthalter's voice:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, my conclusion is necessarily different from
+yours, because all the police-officers who took part in the arrest are
+unanimous in declaring that it was effected on German soil."
+
+"Commissary Jorance and M. Morestal," objected M. Le Corbier, "state the
+contrary."
+
+"They are alone in saying so."
+
+"M. Philippe Morestal took the evidence of Private Baufeld."
+
+"Private Baufeld was a deserter," retorted the Statthalter. "His
+evidence does not count."
+
+There was a pause. Then the German resumed, in terms which he picked
+slowly and carefully:
+
+"Therefore, monsieur le ministre, as there is no outside evidence in
+support of either of the two contradictory versions, I can find no
+argument that would tend to destroy the conclusions to which all the
+German enquiries have led. That is what I shall tell the emperor this
+evening."
+
+He bowed. M. Le Corbier took off his hat, hesitated a second and then,
+making up his mind:
+
+"One word more, your excellency. Before finally going back to Paris, I
+determined to call the Morestal family for the last time. I will ask
+your excellency if it would be possible for Commissary Jorance to be
+present at the interview. I will answer for him on my honour."
+
+The Statthalter appeared embarrassed. The proposal evidently went beyond
+his powers. Nevertheless, he said, decisively:
+
+"You shall have your wish, monsieur le ministre. Commissary Jorance is
+here, at your disposal."
+
+He clapped his heels together, raised his hand to his helmet and gave
+the military salute. The interview was ended.
+
+The German crossed the frontier. M. Le Corbier watched him walk away,
+stood for a moment in thought and then returned to the French tent.
+
+He was surprised to find the Morestals there. But he gave a gesture as
+though, after all, he was rather pleased than otherwise at this accident
+and he asked M. de Trebons:
+
+"Did you hear?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Then do not lose a moment, my dear Trebons. You will find my car at the
+bottom of the hill. Go to Saint-Elophe, telephone to the prime minister
+and communicate the German reply to him officially. It is urgent. There
+may be immediate measures to be taken ... with regard to the frontier."
+
+He said these last words in a low voice, with his eyes fixed on the two
+Morestals, went out with M. de Trebons and accompanied him as far as the
+French camp.
+
+A long silence followed upon his disappearance. Philippe, clenching his
+fists, blurted out:
+
+"It's terrible ... it's terrible...."
+
+And turning to his father:
+
+"You are quite sure, I suppose, of what you are swearing?... Of the
+exact place?..."
+
+Morestal shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Philippe insisted:
+
+"It was at night.... You may have made a mistake...."
+
+"No, no, I tell you, no," growled Morestal, angrily. "I know what I am
+talking about. You'll end by annoying me."
+
+Marthe tried to interfere:
+
+"Come, Philippe.... Your father is accustomed to ..."
+
+But Philippe caught her by the arm and, roughly:
+
+"Hold your tongue ... I won't allow it.... What do you know?... What are
+you meddling for?"
+
+He broke off suddenly, as though ashamed of his anger, and, in a fit of
+weakness and uncertainty, murmured an apology:
+
+"I beg your pardon, Marthe.... You too, father, forgive me.... Please
+forgive me.... There are situations in which we are bound to pardon one
+another for all the pain that we can give one another."
+
+Judging by the contraction of his features, one would have thought that
+he was on the verge of crying, like a child trying to restrain its tears
+and failing in the effort.
+
+Morestal stared at him in amazement. His wife looked at him aslant and
+felt fear rising within her, as at the approach of a great calamity.
+
+But the tent opened once more. M. Le Corbier entered. Special
+Commissary Jorance, who had been brought to the French camp by the
+German gendarmes, was with him.
+
+Jorance simply nodded to the Morestals and asked:
+
+"Suzanne?"
+
+"She is well," said Marthe.
+
+Meanwhile, Le Corbier had sat down and was turning over the papers.
+
+With his three-cornered face, ending in a short, peaked beard, his
+clean-shaven upper-lip, his sallow complexion and his black clothes, he
+wore the solemn mien of a Protestant divine. People said of him that, in
+the days of the Revolution, he would have been Robespierre or
+Saint-Just. His eyes, which expressed sympathy and almost affection,
+belied the suggestion. In reality, he was a conscientious man, who owed
+the gravity of his appearance to an excessive sense of duty.
+
+He closed the bundles of papers and sat thinking for some time. His lips
+formed silent syllables. He was obviously composing his speech. And he
+spoke as follows, in a confidential and friendly tone which was
+infinitely perturbing:
+
+"I am going back in an hour. In the train, I shall draw up a report,
+based on these notes and on the respective depositions which you have
+made or which you will make to me. At nine o'clock this evening, I
+shall be with the prime minister. At half-past nine, the prime minister
+will speak in the chamber; and he will speak according to the substance
+of my report. This is what I wish you to understand above all things.
+Next, I want you to know the German reply, I want you to realize the
+great, the irretrievable importance of every word which you utter. As
+for me, feeling as I do the full weight of my responsibilities, I wish
+to seek behind those words, beyond yourselves, whether there is not some
+detail unperceived by yourselves which will destroy the appalling truth
+established by your evidence. What I am seeking is--I tell you so
+frankly--a doubt on your part, a contradiction. I am seeking it ..."
+
+He hesitated and, sinking his voice, concluded:
+
+"I am almost hoping for it."
+
+A great sense of peace filled the Morestals. Each of them, subduing his
+excitement, suddenly raised himself to the level of the task assigned to
+him and each of them was ready to fulfil it courageously, blindly, in
+the face of every obstacle.
+
+And Le Corbier resumed:
+
+"M. Morestal, here is your deposition. I ask you for the last time to
+affirm the exact, complete truth."
+
+"I affirm it, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Still, Weisslicht and his men declare that the arrest took place on
+German soil."
+
+"The upland widens out at this part," said Morestal, "and the road which
+marks the boundary winds.... It is possible for foreigners to make a
+mistake. It is not possible for us, for me. We were arrested on French
+soil."
+
+"You certify this on your honour?"
+
+"I swear it on the heads of my wife and son. I swear it to God."
+
+Le Corbier turned to the special commissary:
+
+"M. Jorance, do you confirm this deposition?"
+
+"I confirm each of my friend Morestal's words in every respect," said
+the commissary. "They express the truth. I swear it on the head of my
+daughter."
+
+"The policemen have taken just as solemn oaths," observed Le Corbier.
+
+"The German policemen's evidence is interested. It helps them to shield
+the fault which they have committed. We have committed no fault. If
+chance had caused us to be arrested on German territory, no power on
+earth would have prevented Morestal and myself from admitting the fact.
+Morestal is free and fears nothing. Well, I, who am a prisoner, fear
+nothing either."
+
+"That is the view which the French government has adopted," said the
+under-secretary. "Moreover, we have additional evidence: yours, M.
+Philippe Morestal. That evidence the government, through an excessive
+feeling of scruple, has not wished to recognize officially. As a matter
+of fact, it appeared to us less firm, more undecided, at the second
+hearing than at the first. But, such as it is, it assumes a peculiar
+value in my eyes, because it corroborates that of the two other
+witnesses. M. Philippe Morestal, do you maintain the terms of your
+deposition, word for word?"
+
+Philippe rose, looked at his father, pushed back Marthe, who came
+running up to him, and replied, in a low voice:
+
+"No, monsieur le ministre."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION
+
+
+The conflict was immediate. Between Morestal and Philippe, the duel set
+in at once. The events of the previous days had cleared the way for it:
+at the first word, they stood up to each other like irreconcilable
+adversaries, the father spirited and aggressive, the son anxious and
+sad, but inflexible.
+
+Le Corbier at once foresaw a scene. He went out of the tent, ordered the
+sentry to stand away, made sure that the group of Germans could not hear
+the sound of the raised voices. Then, after carefully closing the fly,
+he returned to his place.
+
+"You are mad! You are mad!" said Morestal, who had come up to his son.
+"How dare you?"
+
+And Jorance joined in:
+
+"Come, come, Philippe ... this is not serious.... You are not going to
+back out, to withdraw...."
+
+Le Corbier silenced them and, addressing Philippe:
+
+"Explain yourself, monsieur," he said. "I do not understand."
+
+Philippe looked at his father again and, slowly, in a voice which he
+strove to render firm as he spoke, answered:
+
+"I say, monsieur le ministre, that certain particulars in my evidence
+are not accurate and that it is my duty to correct them."
+
+"Speak, monsieur," said the under-secretary, with some harshness.
+
+Philippe did not hesitate. Facing old Morestal, who was quivering with
+indignation, he began, as though he were in a hurry to get it over:
+
+"First of all, Private Baufeld did not say things that were quite as
+clear as those which I repeated. The words used were obscure and
+incoherent."
+
+"What! Why, your declarations are precise...."
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, when I gave my evidence for the first time before
+the examining-magistrate, I was under the shock of my father's arrest. I
+was under his influence. It seemed to me that the incident would have no
+consequences if the arrest had been effected on German territory; and,
+when relating Private Baufeld's last words, in spite of myself, without
+knowing it, I interpreted them in the sense of my own wishes. Later on,
+I understood my mistake. I am now repairing it."
+
+He stopped. The under-secretary turned over his papers, no doubt read
+through Philippe's evidence and asked:
+
+"As far as concerns Private Baufeld, have you nothing to add?"
+
+Philippe's legs seemed on the point of giving way beneath him, so much
+so that Le Corbier asked him to sit down.
+
+He obeyed and, mastering himself, said:
+
+"Yes, I have. I have a revelation to make in this respect which is very
+painful to me. My father evidently attached no importance to it; but it
+seems to me ..."
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Morestal.
+
+"Oh, father, I beseech you!" entreated Philippe, folding his hands
+together. "We are not here to quarrel, nor to judge each other, but to
+do our duty. Mine is horrible. Do not discourage me. You shall condemn
+me afterwards, if you see cause."
+
+"I condemn you as it is, Philippe."
+
+Le Corbier made an imperious gesture and repeated, in a yet more
+peremptory tone:
+
+"Speak, M. Philippe Morestal."
+
+Philippe said, bringing the words out very quickly:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, Private Baufeld had relations on this side of the
+frontier. His desertion was prepared, backed up. He knew the safe road
+which he was to take."
+
+"Through whom did he know it?"
+
+Philippe lowered his head and, with half-closed eyes, whispered:
+
+"Through my father!"
+
+"That's not true!" shouted old Morestal, purple with rage. "That's not
+true! I prepare ... I!..."
+
+"Here is the paper which I found in Private Baufeld's pocket," said
+Philippe, handing a sheet of note-paper to Le Corbier. "It gives a sort
+of plan of escape, the road which the fugitive is to follow, the exact
+spot at which he is to cross the frontier so as to avoid the watchers."
+
+"What are you saying? What are you daring to say? A correspondence
+between me and that wretch!"
+
+"The two words, 'Albern Path,' are in your hand-writing, father, and it
+was through the Albern Path that the deserter entered France. The sheet
+is a sheet of your own note-paper."
+
+Morestal gave a bound:
+
+"And you took it from the waste-paper basket, where it lay torn and
+crumpled! You did a thing like that, you, my son! You had the infamy
+..."
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"Then what? Answer!"
+
+"Private Baufeld gave it me before his death."
+
+Morestal was standing opposite Philippe, with his arms crossed over his
+chest, and, so far from defending himself against his son's accusations,
+seemed rather to be addressing a culprit.
+
+And Philippe looked at him with eyes of anguish. At each blow that he
+struck, at each sentence that he uttered, he detected the mark of a
+wound on his father's face. A vein swelling on the old man's temples
+distressed him beyond measure. He was terrified to see streaks of blood
+mingle with the whites of his eyes. And he feared, at every moment, that
+his father would fall like a tree which the axe has struck to the heart.
+
+The under-secretary, after examining the sheet of paper which Philippe
+had given him, resumed:
+
+"In any case, M. Morestal, these lines were written by you?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre. I have already stated what the man
+Dourlowski tried to get out of me and the answer which I gave him."
+
+"Was it the first time that the fellow made the attempt?..."
+
+"The first time," said Morestal, after an imperceptible hesitation.
+
+"Then this paper?... These lines?..."
+
+"Those lines were written by me in the course of the conversation. Upon
+reflection, I threw away the paper. I see now that Dourlowski must have
+picked it up behind my back and used it in order to carry out his plan.
+If the police had discovered it on the deserter, it would have been a
+proof of my guilt. At least, they would have interpreted it in that way
+... as my son does. I hope, monsieur le ministre, that that
+interpretation is not yours."
+
+Le Corbier sat thinking for a moment or two, consulted the documents and
+said:
+
+"The two governments have agreed to leave outside the discussion all
+that concerns Private Baufeld's desertion, the part played by the man
+Dourlowski and the accusation of complicity made against the French
+commissary and against yourself, M. Morestal. These are legal questions
+which concern the German courts. The only purpose for which I have been
+delegated is to ascertain whether or not the arrest took place on French
+territory. My instructions are extremely limited. I cannot go beyond
+them. I will ask you, therefore, M. Philippe Morestal, to tell me, or
+rather to confirm to me, what you know on this subject."
+
+"I know nothing."
+
+A moment of stupefaction followed. Morestal, utterly bewildered, did not
+even think of protesting. He evidently looked upon his son as mad.
+
+"You know nothing?" said the under-secretary, who did not yet clearly
+see Philippe's object. "All the same, you have declared that you heard
+M. Jorance's exclamation, 'We are in France!... They are arresting the
+French commissary!...'"
+
+"I did not hear it."
+
+"What! What! But you were not two hundred yards away...."
+
+"I was nowhere near. I left my father at the Carrefour du Grand-Chene
+and I neither saw nor heard what happened after we had parted."
+
+"Then why did you state the contrary, monsieur?"
+
+"I repeat, monsieur le ministre, when my father returned, I at once
+understood the importance of the first words which we should speak in
+the presence of the examining-magistrate. I thought that, by supporting
+my father's story, I should be helping to prevent trouble. To-day, in
+the face of the inexorable facts, I am reverting to the pure and simple
+truth."
+
+His replies were clear and unhesitating. There was no doubt that he was
+following a line of conduct which he had marked out in advance and from
+which nothing would make him swerve.
+
+Morestal and Jorance listened to him in dismay.
+
+Marthe sat silent and motionless, with her eyes glued to her husband's.
+
+Le Corbier concluded:
+
+"You mean to say that you will not accept your share of the
+responsibility?"
+
+"I accept the responsibility for all that I have done."
+
+"But you withdraw from the case?"
+
+"In so far as I am concerned, yes."
+
+"Then I must cancel your evidence and rely upon the unshaken testimony
+of M. Morestal: is that it?"
+
+Philippe was silent.
+
+"Eh, what?" cried Morestal. "You don't answer?"
+
+There was a sort of entreaty in the old man's voice, a desperate appeal
+to Philippe's better feelings. His anger almost fell, so great was his
+unhappiness at seeing his son, his boy, a prey to this madness.
+
+"You mean that, don't you?" he resumed, gently. "You mean that monsieur
+le ministre can and must abide by my declarations?"
+
+"No," said Philippe, stubbornly.
+
+Morestal started:
+
+"No? But why? What reason have you for answering like that? Why should
+you?"
+
+"Because, father, though the nature of your declarations has not varied,
+your attitude, during the last three days, proves that you are
+experiencing a certain reticence, a certain hesitation."
+
+"What makes you say that?" asked Morestal, trembling all over, but as
+yet retaining his self-control.
+
+"Your certainty is not absolute."
+
+"How do you know? If you make an accusation, you must prove it."
+
+"I am not making an accusation. I am trying to state my exact
+impression."
+
+"Your impression! What is that worth beside the facts? And it is facts
+that I am asserting."
+
+"Facts interpreted by yourself, father, facts of which you cannot be
+sure. No, no, you cannot! Remember, the other morning, Friday morning,
+we came back here and, while you were once more showing me the road
+which you had covered, you said, 'Still, suppose I were mistaken!
+Suppose we had branched off more to the right! Suppose I were
+mistaken!'"
+
+"That was an exaggeration of scruple! All my acts, on the contrary, all
+my reflections ..."
+
+"There was no need to reflect! There was not even any need to return to
+this road! The fact that you returned to it shows that you were harassed
+by a doubt."
+
+"I have not doubted for one second."
+
+"You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your
+certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have
+within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your
+actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is
+your love for France. You think that France is always in the right
+against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if
+she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave
+your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of
+mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre, to take note of."
+
+"And you," shouted old Morestal, bursting out at last, "I accuse you of
+being impelled by some horrible sentiment against your father, against
+your country, by I can't say what infamous ideas...."
+
+"My ideas are outside the question...."
+
+"Your ideas, which I can guess, are at the back of your conduct and of
+your mental aberration. If I love France too well, you, you are too
+ready to forget your duty to her."
+
+"I love her as well as you do, father," cried Philippe, passionately,
+"and better, perhaps! It is a love that sometimes moves me to tears,
+when I think of what she has been, of what she is, so beautiful, so
+intelligent, so great, so adorable for her charm and her good faith! I
+love her because she is the mother of every lofty idea. I love her
+because her language is the clearest and noblest of all languages. I
+love her because she is always marching on, regardless of consequences,
+and because she sings as she marches and because she is gay and active
+and alive, always full of hopes and of illusions, and because she is the
+smile on the face of the world.... But I cannot see that she would be
+any the less great or admirable for admitting that one of her officials
+was captured twenty yards to the right of the frontier."
+
+"Why should she admit it, if it is not true?" said Morestal.
+
+"Why should she not admit it, if peace should be the outcome?" retorted
+Philippe.
+
+"Peace! There's the great word at last!" sneered Morestal. "Peace! You
+too have allowed yourself to be poisoned by the theories of the day!
+Peace at the price of disgrace: that's it, is it not?"
+
+"Peace at the price of an infinitesimal sacrifice of self-esteem."
+
+"That means dishonour."
+
+"No, no," Philippe answered, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "It is the
+beauty of a nation to raise itself above those miserable questions. And
+France is worthy of it. You do not know it, father, but since the last
+forty years, since that execrable date, since that accursed war the
+memory of which obsesses your mind and closes your eyes to every
+reality of life, a new France has come into existence, a France whose
+gaze is fixed upon other truths, a France that longs to shake off the
+evil past, to repudiate all that remains to us of the ancient barbarism
+and to rid herself of the laws of blood and war. She cannot do so yet,
+but she is making for it with all her young ardour and all her growing
+conviction. And twice already, in ten years--in the heart of Africa,
+face to face with England; on the shores of Morocco, face to face with
+Germany--twice she has overcome her old barbarous instinct."
+
+"Shameful memories, for which every Frenchman blushes!"
+
+"Glorious memories, of which we should be proud! One day, those will be
+the fairest pages of our time; and those two dates will wipe out the
+execrable date. That is the true revenge! That a nation which has never
+known fear, which has always, at the tragic hours of its history,
+settled its quarrels in the old barbarous fashion, sword in hand, that
+such a nation should have raised itself to so magnificent a conception
+of beauty and civilization, that, I say, is its finest claim to glory!"
+
+"Words! Words! It's the theory of peace at any price; and it is a lie
+that you are advising me to tell."
+
+"No, it is the possible truth that I ask you to admit, cruel though it
+may be for you to do so."
+
+"But you know the truth," cried Morestal, waving his arms in the air.
+"You've sworn it three times! You've signed it three times with your
+name! You saw and heard the truth on the night of the attack!"
+
+"I do not know it," said Philippe, in a firm voice. "I was not there. I
+was not present when you were captured and carried off. I did not hear
+M. Jorance's call. I swear it on my honour. I swear it on the heads of
+my children. I was not there."
+
+"Then where were you?" asked Marthe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE STAGES TO CALVARY
+
+
+The little sentence, so terrible in its conciseness, set up a clear
+issue between the two adversaries.
+
+Carried away by the exuberance of their convictions, they had widened
+the discussion into a sort of oratorical joust in which each fought
+eagerly for the opinions which he held dear. And Le Corbier knew better
+than to interrupt a duel whence he had little doubt that some unexpected
+light would flash, at last, from amid the superfluous words.
+
+Marthe's little sentence evoked that light. Le Corbier, from the
+beginning of the scene, had noticed the young woman's strange attitude,
+her silence, her fevered glances that seemed to probe Philippe
+Morestal's very soul. He understood the full value of the question from
+her accent. No more vain declamations and eloquent theories! It was no
+longer a matter of knowing which of the two, the father or the son,
+thought the more justly and served his country with the greater
+devotion. One thing alone carried weight; and Marthe had stated it in
+undeniable fashion.
+
+Philippe stood dumbfoundered. In the course of his reflections, he had
+foreseen every demand, every supposition, every difficulty, in short,
+all the consequences of the action upon which he had resolved. But how
+could he have foreseen this one, not knowing that Marthe would be
+present at that last and greatest interview? Before Le Corbier, before
+his father, supposing this detail entered their heads, he could invent
+an excuse of some kind. But before Marthe?...
+
+From that moment, he had the terrifying vision of the catastrophe that
+was preparing. A sweat covered his whole body. He ought to have faced
+the danger bravely and piled explanation on explanation at the risk of
+contradicting himself. As it was, he turned red and stammered. And, in
+so doing, he put himself out of court.
+
+Morestal had resumed his seat. Le Corbier was waiting, impassively. Amid
+the great silence, Marthe, now quite pale, speaking in a slow voice,
+which let fall the syllables one by one, said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, I accuse my husband of perjury and falsehood. It
+is now, when he withdraws his former evidence, that he is sinning
+against the truth, against a truth which he knows ... yes, he knows it,
+that I declare. By all that he has told me; by all that I know, I swear
+that he never questioned his father's word. And I swear that he was
+present at the attack."
+
+"Then," asked Le Corbier, "why does M. Philippe Morestal act as he is
+doing now?"
+
+"Monsieur le ministre," replied Marthe, "my husband is the author of the
+pamphlet entitled, _Peace before All_!"
+
+The disclosure created a sort of sensation. Le Corbier gave a start. The
+commissary wore an indignant air. As for old Morestal, he tried to stand
+up, staggered and at once fell back in his seat. All his strength had
+left him. His anger gave way before an immense despair. He could not
+have suffered more had he heard that Philippe was dead.
+
+And Marthe repeated:
+
+"My husband is the author of the pamphlet entitled _Peace before All_!
+For the sake of his opinions, for the sake of consistency with the
+profound, the exalted faith to which his views give rise within him, my
+husband is capable ..."
+
+Le Corbier suggested:
+
+"Of going to the length of a lie?"
+
+"Yes," she said. "False evidence can only appear insignificant to him
+beside the great catastrophe which he wishes to avert; and his
+conscience alone dictates his duty to him. Is it true, Philippe?"
+
+He replied, gravely:
+
+"Certainly. In the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed, when
+two nations are at daggers drawn over a wretched question of
+self-esteem, I should not shrink from a lie that appears to me a duty.
+But I have no need to resort to that expedient. I have truth itself on
+my side. I was not there."
+
+"Then where were you?" repeated Marthe.
+
+The little sentence rang out again, pitilessly. But, this time, Marthe
+uttered it in a more hostile tone and with a gesture that underlined all
+its importance. And she at once added, plying him with questions:
+
+"You did not come in until eight o'clock in the morning. Your bed was
+not undone. Consequently, you had not slept at the Old Mill. Where did
+you spend the night?"
+
+"I was looking for my father."
+
+"You did not know that your father had been carried off until Private
+Baufeld told you, at five o'clock in the morning. Consequently, it was
+five o'clock in the morning before you began to look for your father."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And, at that moment, you had not yet returned to the Old Mill,
+because, I repeat, your bed was not undone."
+
+"No."
+
+"And where did you come from? What were you doing from eleven o'clock in
+the evening, when you left your father, until five o'clock in the
+morning, when you heard of his capture?"
+
+The cross-examination, with its unimpeachable logic, left Philippe no
+loop-hole for escape. He felt that he was lost.
+
+For a moment, he was on the point of throwing up the game and
+exclaiming:
+
+"Well, yes, I was there. I heard everything. My father is right. We must
+accept his word...."
+
+This was a display of weakness which a man like Philippe was bound and
+fated to resist. On the other hand, how could he betray Suzanne?
+
+He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered:
+
+"I have nothing to say."
+
+Marthe, suddenly dropping her accusing tone and shaking with anguish,
+rushed up to him and cried:
+
+"You have nothing to say? What do you mean? Oh, Philippe, I entreat you,
+speak!... Confess that you are lying and that you were there ... I
+beseech you.... My mind is full of horrible thoughts.... Things have
+been happening--I have noticed them--which obsess me now.... It's not
+true, tell me that it's not true!"
+
+He thought that he beheld salvation in this unexpected distress.
+Disarmed, reduced to silence by a sort of confession which he could
+retract at leisure, his wife was making herself his accomplice and
+rescuing him by ceasing to attack him.
+
+"You must be silent," he said, in a tone of command. "Your personal
+grief must make way...."
+
+"What are you saying?"
+
+"Be silent, Marthe. We shall have the explanation which you demand. We
+shall have it later. But be silent."
+
+It was a useless piece of blundering. Like all women who love, Marthe
+only suffered the more from this semi-avowal. She fired up in her grief:
+
+"No, Philippe, I will not be silent.... I want to know what your words
+mean.... You have no right to escape by a subterfuge.... I demand an
+immediate explanation, here and now."
+
+She had stood up and, facing her husband, emphasized each of her words
+with a short movement of the hand. Seeing that Philippe made no reply,
+Le Corbier now joined in:
+
+"Mme. Philippe Morestal is right, monsieur. You must explain yourself
+and not so much for her--that is a matter between yourselves--as for me,
+for the purpose of the clearness of my enquiry. Ever since we began, you
+have kept to a sort of programme settled in advance and easily seen
+through. After denying your first depositions, you are trying to
+demolish your own father's evidence. The doubt which I was seeking
+behind your replies you are now endeavouring to create in my mind by
+throwing suspicion upon your father's statements by every means in your
+power. I have the right to ask myself if one of those means is not
+falsehood--the word is not mine, monsieur, but your wife's--and if the
+love of your opinions does not take precedence of the love of truth."
+
+"I am telling the truth, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Then prove it. Are you giving false evidence now? Or was it on the
+former occasions? How am I to know? I require a positive certainty. If I
+can't have that, I shall take no notice of what you say and rely upon
+the evidence of a witness who, at any rate, has never varied."
+
+"My father is mistaken.... My father is a victim of illusions...."
+
+"Until I receive a proof to the contrary, monsieur, your accusations can
+carry no weight with me. They will do so only if you give me an
+undeniable proof of your sincerity. Now there is only one that would
+bear that undeniable character; and you refuse to supply me with it...."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"I tell you, monsieur," Le Corbier interrupted, impatiently, "that
+there is no other question at issue. Either you were on the frontier at
+the time of the attack and heard M. Jorance's protests, in which case
+your former evidence and M. Morestal's retain all their importance, or
+else you were not there, in which case it becomes your imperative duty
+to prove to me that you were not there. It is very easy: where were you
+at that moment?"
+
+Philippe had a fit of rebellion and, replying aloud to the thoughts that
+tortured him:
+
+"Ah, no!" he said. "Ah, no!... It's not possible that I should be forced
+to.... Nonsense, it would be monstrous!..."
+
+It seemed to him as though a malevolent genius had been trying, for four
+days past, to direct events in such a way that he, Philippe, was under
+the terrible necessity of accusing Suzanne.
+
+"No, a thousand times no!" he repeated, angrily. "There is no power that
+can compel me.... Say that I spent the night walking about, or sleeping
+by the roadside. Say what you please.... But leave me free in my actions
+and my words."
+
+"In that case," said the under-secretary of state, gathering up his
+papers, "the enquiry is at an end and M. Morestal's evidence will serve
+as the basis on which I shall form my conclusions."
+
+"Very well," retorted Philippe, beside himself.
+
+He began to walk, almost to run, around the tent. He was like a wild
+animal seeking an outlet. Was he to throw up the work which he had
+undertaken? Was he, the frail obstacle self-set against the torrent, to
+be vanquished in his turn? Oh, how gladly he would have given his own
+life! He became aware of this, deep down in his inner consciousness. And
+he understood, as it were physically, the sacrifice of those who go to
+their death smiling, when a great idea uplifts them.
+
+But in what respect would death have settled things? He must either
+speak--and speak against Suzanne: a torture infinitely more exquisite
+than death--or else resign himself. It was this or that: there was no
+alternative.
+
+He walked to and fro, as though tormented by the fire that devoured him.
+Was he to fling himself on his knees before Marthe and ask for mercy or
+to fold his hands before Le Corbier? He did not know. His brain was
+bursting. And he had the harrowing feeling that all his efforts were in
+vain and turning against himself.
+
+He stopped and said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, your opinion alone matters; and I will attempt
+impossibilities to make that opinion agree with the real facts. I am
+prepared for anything, monsieur le ministre ... on one condition,
+however, that our interview is private. To you and to you alone I can
+..."
+
+Once more, he found Marthe facing him, Marthe, the unforeseen enemy,
+who seemed to hold him gripped as a prey and who, fierce and pitiless
+and alive to the least attempt at stratagem, would never let him go.
+
+"I have the right to be there!" she cried. "You must explain yourself in
+my presence! Your word will have no value unless I am there.... If not,
+I shall challenge it as a fresh lie. Monsieur le ministre, I put you on
+your guard against a trick...."
+
+Le Corbier gave a sign of approval and, addressing Philippe:
+
+"What is the use of a private interview, monsieur? Whatever credit I may
+attach to your confidential statements, if I am to believe them frankly
+I must have a check with which only your wife and your father can supply
+me. Unfortunately, after all your contradictory versions, I am entitled
+to doubt ..."
+
+"Monsieur le ministre," Philippe hinted, "there are sometimes
+circumstances ... facts that cannot be revealed ... secrets of such a
+nature ..."
+
+"You lie! You lie!" cried Marthe, maddened by the admission. "It is not
+true. A woman: is that what you mean? No ... no.... Ah, Philippe, I
+beseech you!... Monsieur le ministre, I swear to you that he is lying
+... I swear it to you.... He is keeping up his falsehood to the bitter
+end. He betray me! He love another woman! You're lying, Philippe, are
+you not? Oh, hush, hush!"
+
+Suddenly, Philippe felt a hand wringing his arm. Turning round, he saw
+Commissary Jorance, with a white, threatening face, and heard him say,
+in a dull voice:
+
+"What did you mean to suggest? Whom are you talking about? Oh, I'll make
+you answer, trust me!"
+
+Philippe stared at him in stupefaction. And he also stared at Marthe's
+distorted features. And he was surprised, for he did not think that he
+had spoken words that could arouse their suspicions.
+
+"But you are all mad!" he said. "Come, M. Jorance.... Come, Marthe....
+What's the matter? I don't know what you can have understood.... Perhaps
+it's my fault ... I am so tired!"
+
+"Whom have you been talking about?" repeated Jorance, shaking with rage.
+
+"Confess! Confess!" demanded Marthe, pressing him hard with all her
+jealous hatred.
+
+And, behind her, Philippe saw old Morestal, huddled in his chair, as
+though unable to recover from the blows that had struck him. That was
+Philippe's first victim. Was he to offer up two more? He started:
+
+"Enough! Enough!... This is all hateful.... There is a terrible
+misunderstanding between us.... And all that I say only makes it
+worse.... We will have an explanation later, I promise you, M.
+Jorance.... You also, Marthe, I swear it.... And you will realize your
+mistake. But let us be silent now, please.... We have tortured one
+another long enough."
+
+He spoke in so resolute a voice that Jorance stood undecided and Marthe
+herself was shaken. Was he stating the truth? Was it simply a
+misunderstanding that divided them?
+
+Le Corbier guessed the tragedy and, attacking Philippe in his turn,
+said:
+
+"So, monsieur, I must look for no enlightenment on the point to which
+you drew my attention? And it is you yourself, is it not, who, by your
+definite attitude, close the discussion?"
+
+"Yes," replied Philippe, firmly.
+
+"No," protested Marthe, returning to the charge with indefatigable
+vigour. "No, it is not finished, monsieur le ministre; it cannot finish
+like this. My husband, whether he meant to or not, has uttered words
+which we have all interpreted in the same sense. If there is a
+misunderstanding, let it be dispelled now. And there is only one person
+who can do so. That person is here. I ask to have that person called
+in."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," stammered Philippe.
+
+"Yes, you do, Philippe. You know to whom I refer and all the proofs that
+give me the right to ..."
+
+"Silence, Marthe," commanded Philippe, beside himself.
+
+"Then confess. If not, I swear that ..."
+
+The sight of M. Jorance stayed her threat. Unaware of Suzanne's presence
+at the Butte-aux-Loups, Jorance had ceased to understand; and his
+suspicions, aroused by Philippe's imprudence, had become gradually
+allayed. At the last moment, when on the point of putting her
+irreparable accusation into words, Marthe hesitated. Her hatred was
+vanquished by the sight of the father's grief.
+
+Moreover, just then, a diversion occurred to bring about an armistice,
+as it were, in the midst of the implacable conflict. Le Corbier had
+risen hurriedly from his seat and drawn back the tent-fly. A quick step
+was heard outside.
+
+"Ah, there you are, Trebons!"
+
+And he almost ran to fetch the young man in and plied him with
+questions:
+
+"Did you speak to the prime minister? What did he say?"
+
+M. de Trebons entered the tent. But, on catching sight of the Morestal
+family, he turned back:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, I think it would be better ..."
+
+"No, no, Trebons. No one here is in the way ... on the contrary....
+Come, what is it? Bad news?"
+
+"Very bad news, monsieur le ministre. The French embassy in Berlin has
+been burnt down...."
+
+"Oh!" said Le Corbier. "Wasn't it guarded?"
+
+"Yes, but the troops were overborne by the crowd."
+
+"Next?"
+
+"Germany is mobilizing all her frontier army-corps."
+
+"But in Paris? What about Paris?"
+
+"Nothing but riots.... The boulevards are overrun.... At this moment,
+the municipal guards are charging the mob to clear the approaches to the
+Palais-Bourbon."
+
+"But what do they want, when all is said?"
+
+"War."
+
+The word rang out like a death-knell. After a few seconds, Le Corbier
+asked:
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"The prime minister is anxiously awaiting your return. 'Don't let him
+lose a minute,' he said. 'His report might spell safety. It is my last
+shot. If it misses fire, I can't answer for what will happen.' And he
+added, 'And, even then, it may be too late.'"
+
+The silence was really excruciating around the table, in the little
+space inside that tent in which the cruelest of tragedies was hurling
+against one another a group of noble souls united by the most loyal
+affection. Each of them forgot his private suffering and thought only of
+the horror that loomed ahead. The sinister word was echoed in all their
+hearts.
+
+Le Corbier gave a gesture of despair:
+
+"His last shot! Yes, if my report gave him an opportunity of retreating!
+But ..."
+
+He watched old Morestal, as though he were still expecting a sudden
+retractation. What was the good? Supposing he took it upon himself to
+extenuate the old man's statements, Morestal was the sort of
+uncompromising man who would give him the lie in public. And then the
+government would find itself in an unenviable plight indeed!
+
+"Well," he said, "let fate take its course! We have done our very
+utmost. My dear Trebons, is the motor at the cross-roads?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur le ministre."
+
+"Please collect the papers; we will go. We have an hour to reach the
+station. It's more than we want."
+
+He picked up his hat, his coat, took a few steps to and fro and stopped
+in front of Philippe. Philippe, he half thought, had perhaps not done
+his utmost. Philippe perhaps had still one stage to travel. But how was
+Le Corbier to find out? How was he to fathom that mysterious soul and
+read its insoluble riddle? Le Corbier knew those men endowed with the
+missionary spirit and capable, in furtherance of their cause, of
+admirable devotion, of almost superhuman sacrifice, but also of
+hypocrisy, of craft, sometimes of crime. What was this Philippe
+Morestal's evidence worth? What part exactly was he playing? Had he
+deliberately and falsely given rise to the suspicion of some amorous
+meeting? Or was he really carrying his heroism to the point of telling
+the truth?
+
+Slowly, thoughtfully, as though in obedience to a new hope, Le Corbier
+went back to his seat, flung his motor-coat on the table, sat down and,
+addressing M. de Trebons:
+
+"One second more.... Leave the papers. And pray bring Mlle. Suzanne
+Jorance here."
+
+M. de Trebons left the tent.
+
+"Is Suzanne there?" asked Jorance, in an anxious voice. "Was she there
+just now?..."
+
+He received no reply; and he vainly scrutinized the faces, one after the
+other, of those whom he was questioning. During the three or four
+minutes that elapsed, none of the actors in the drama made the least
+movement. Morestal remained seated, with his head hanging on his chest.
+Marthe kept her eyes fixed on the opening of the tent. As for Philippe,
+he awaited this additional blow with anguish in his heart. The massacre
+was not ended. Destiny ordained that, following upon his father, upon
+his wife, upon Jorance, he himself should sacrifice this fourth victim.
+
+Le Corbier, who was watching him, was overcome with an involuntary
+feeling of compassion, of sympathy almost. At that moment, Philippe's
+sincerity seemed to him absolute and he felt inclined to abandon the
+test. But distrust carried the day. Absurd though the supposition might
+be, he had an impression that this man was capable of falsely accusing
+the girl in the presence of his wife, of his father and of Jorance
+himself. With Suzanne present, falsehood became impossible. The test was
+a cruel one, but, however it was decided, it carried with it the
+unimpeachable certainty without which Le Corbier was unwilling to close
+his enquiry.
+
+Philippe shook all over. Marthe and Jorance rose from their seats. The
+tent-fly was drawn aside. Suzanne entered.
+
+She at once gave a movement of recoil. At the first glance, at the first
+sight of those motionless people, she suspected the danger which her
+feminine instinct had already foreseen. And, deathly pale, deprived of
+all her strength, she dared not come forward.
+
+Le Corbier took her hand and, gently:
+
+"Please be seated, mademoiselle. It is possible that your evidence may
+be of value to us to clear up a few points."
+
+There was only one vacant chair, next to Jorance. Suzanne took a few
+steps and looked at her father, whom she had not seen since the evening
+at Saint-Elophe. He turned away his head. She sat down trembling.
+
+Then Le Corbier, who was in a hurry to finish the business, walked
+quickly up to Philippe and said:
+
+"It is the last time, monsieur, that I shall apply to you. In a few
+minutes, everything will be irrevocably ended. It depends on your good
+will...."
+
+But he went no further. Never had he beheld a face ravaged as Philippe's
+was, nor ever so great an expression of strength and energy as showed
+through the chaos of those distorted features. He understood that
+Philippe had resolved to travel the last stage. He waited, without a
+word.
+
+And indeed, as though he too were eager to reach the terrible goal,
+Philippe spoke and said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, if I tell you for certain how I spent my night,
+will my words have an unimpeachable value in your mind?"
+
+His voice was almost calm. His eyes had selected a spot in the tent from
+which he no longer dared remove them, for he feared to meet Marthe's
+eyes, or Jorance's, or Suzanne's.
+
+Le Corbier replied:
+
+"An unimpeachable value."
+
+"Will they tend to lessen the importance of my father's statements?"
+
+"Yes, for I shall have to weigh those statements against the words of a
+man whose perfect sincerity I shall no longer have cause to doubt."
+
+Philippe was silent. His forehead oozed sweat at every pore and he
+staggered like a drunken man on the point of falling.
+
+Le Corbier insisted:
+
+"Speak without scruple, monsieur. There are circumstances in which a man
+must look straight before him and in which the aim to be attained must,
+in a measure, blind him."
+
+Philippe continued:
+
+"And you think, monsieur le ministre, that your report, thus modified,
+may have a decisive influence in Paris?"
+
+"I say so, positively. The prime minister has allowed me to look into
+his secret thoughts. Moreover, I know what he is capable of doing. If
+the conclusions of my report give him a little latitude, he will ring up
+the German embassy and mount the tribune in order to bring the chamber,
+to bring the country face to face with the facts as they are. The
+cabinet will fall amid a general outcry, there will be a few riots, but
+we shall have peace ... and peace, as you, monsieur, were saying a
+moment ago, peace without dishonour, at the price of an infinitesimal
+sacrifice of self-esteem, which will make France greater than ever."
+
+"Yes ... yes ..." said Philippe. "But, if it should be too late? If it
+should no longer be possible to prevent anything?"
+
+"That," said Le Corbier, "is a thing which we cannot foretell.... It
+may, as a matter of fact, be too late...."
+
+This was the hardest thought of all for Philippe. Deep hollows appeared
+in his cheeks. The minutes seemed to age him like long years of
+sickness. The sight of him suggested the faces of the dying martyrs in
+certain primitive pictures. Nothing short of physical pain can thus
+convulse the features of a man's countenance. And he really suffered as
+much as if he were being stretched on the rack and burnt with red-hot
+pincers. Nevertheless, he felt that his mind remained lucid, as must be
+that of the martyrs undergoing torture, and he clearly understood that,
+in consequence of a series of inexorable facts, he had, for a few
+moments--but on the most terrible conditions!--the power of perhaps ...
+of perhaps saving the world from the great scourge of war.
+
+He stiffened himself and, livid in the face, said:
+
+"Monsieur le ministre, what my wife suspected, what you have already
+guessed, is the exact truth. On Monday night, while the arrest was
+taking place and while the two captives were being carried to Germany, I
+was with Suzanne Jorance."
+
+It was as though Jorance, standing behind him, had been waiting for the
+accusation as for an attack that must be parried without delay:
+
+"Suzanne! My daughter!" he cried, seizing Philippe by the collar of his
+jacket. "What are you saying, you villain? How dare you?"
+
+Marthe had not stirred, remained as though stunned. Old Morestal
+protested indignantly. Philippe whispered:
+
+"I am saying what happened."
+
+"You lie! You lie!" roared Jorance. "My daughter, the purest, the most
+honest girl in the world! Why don't you confess that you lie?... Confess
+it!... Confess it!..."
+
+The poor man was choking. The words were caught short in his throat. His
+whole frame seemed to quiver; and his eyes were filled with gleams of
+hatred and murderous longings and anger and, above all, pain, infinite,
+pitiless, human pain.
+
+And he entreated and commanded by turns:
+
+"Confess, confess!... You're lying, aren't you?... It's because of your
+opinions, that's it, because of your opinions!... You want a proof ...
+an alibi ... and so ..."
+
+And, addressing Le Corbier:
+
+"Leave me alone with him, monsieur le ministre.... He will confess to me
+that he is lying, that he is talking like that because he has to ... or
+because he is mad ... who knows? Yes, because he is mad!... How could
+she love you? Why should she? Since when? She, who is your wife's
+friend.... Get out, I know my daughter!... But answer, you villain!...
+Morestal, my friend, make him answer ... make him give his proofs....
+And you, Suzanne, why don't you spit in his face?"
+
+He turned upon Suzanne; and Marthe, rousing herself from her torpor,
+went up to the girl, as he did.
+
+Suzanne stood tottering on her feet, with averted gaze.
+
+"Well, what's this?" roared her father. "Won't you answer either?
+Haven't you a word to answer to that liar?"
+
+She tried to speak, stammered a few confused syllables and was silent.
+
+Philippe met her eyes, the eyes of a hunted fawn, a pair of poor eyes
+pleading for help.
+
+"You admit it! You admit it!" shouted Jorance.
+
+And he made a sudden rush at her; and Philippe, as in a nightmare, saw
+Suzanne flung back, shaken by her father, struck by Marthe, who, she
+too, in an abrupt fit of fury, demanded the useless confession.
+
+It was a horrible and violent scene. Le Corbier and M. de Trebons
+interfered, while Morestal, shaking his fist at Philippe, cried:
+
+"I curse you! You're a criminal! Let her be, Jorance. She couldn't help
+it, poor thing. He is the one to blame.... Yes, you, you, my son!... And
+I curse you.... I turn you out...."
+
+The old man pressed his hand to his heart, stammered a few words more,
+begging Jorance's pardon and promising to look after his daughter, then
+turned on his heels and fell against the table, fainting....
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE ARMED VIGIL
+
+
+"Ma'am!"
+
+"What is it? What's the matter?" asked Mme. Morestal, waking with a
+start.
+
+"It's I, Catherine."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"They have sent from the town-hall, ma'am.... They are asking for the
+master.... They want instructions.... Victor says the troops are being
+mobilized...."
+
+The day before, after his fainting-fit at the Butte-aux-Loups, old
+Morestal was carried back to the Old Mill on a litter by the soldiers of
+the detachment. Marthe, who came with him, flung a few words of
+explanation to her mother-in-law and, without paying attention to the
+good woman's lamentations, without even speaking to her of Philippe and
+of what could have become of him, ran to her room and locked herself in.
+
+Dr. Borel was hurriedly sent for. He examined the patient, diagnosed
+serious trouble in the region of the heart and refused to give an
+opinion.
+
+The house was at sixes and sevens during the evening and all through
+that Sunday night. Catherine and Victor ran to and fro. Mme. Morestal,
+generally so level-headed, but accustomed to bewail her fate on great
+occasions, nursed the sick man and issued a multiplicity of orders.
+Twice she sent the gardener to the chemist at Saint-Elophe.
+
+At midnight, the old man was suffering so much that Dr. Borel was called
+in again. He seemed anxious and administered an injection of morphia.
+
+There followed a few hours of comparative calm; and Mme. Morestal,
+although tortured at Philippe's absence and fearing that he might do
+something rash, was able to lie down on the sofa.
+
+It was then that Catherine rushed into the room, at the risk of
+disturbing the patient's rest.
+
+Mme. Morestal ended by bundling her off:
+
+"Hold your tongue, can't you? Don't you see that your master's asleep?"
+
+"They're mobilizing the troops, ma'am.... It's certain that we shall
+have war...."
+
+"Oh, don't bother us with your war!" growled the good woman, pushing her
+out of the room. "Boil some water for your master and don't waste your
+time talking nonsense."
+
+She herself went to work at once. But all around her was a confused
+noise of murmurs and exclamations, coming from the terrace, the garden
+and the house.
+
+Morestal woke up at nine o'clock.
+
+"Suzanne! Where's Suzanne?" he asked, almost before he opened his eyes.
+
+"What! Suzanne!..."
+
+"Why, yes ... why, of course, Suzanne!... I promised her father.... No
+one has a better right to live in this house.... Philippe's not here, I
+suppose?"
+
+He raised himself in bed, furious at the mere thought.
+
+"He has not come in," said his wife. "We don't know where he is...."
+
+"That's all right! He'd better not come back!... I've turned him out....
+And now I want Suzanne.... She shall nurse me ... she alone, do you
+understand?..."
+
+"Come, Morestal, you surely wouldn't ask ... It's not possible for
+Suzanne to ..."
+
+But her husband's features were contracted with such a look of anger
+that she dared not protest further:
+
+"As you please," she said. "After all, if you think right...."
+
+She consulted Dr. Borel by telephone. He replied that the patient must
+on no account be thwarted. Moreover, he undertook to see the girl, to
+point out to her the duty that called her to the Old Mill and to
+overcome any reluctance on her part.
+
+Dr. Borel himself brought Suzanne to the house at about twelve o'clock.
+Red with shame, her eyes swollen with tears, she submitted to Mme.
+Morestal's humiliating reception and took her seat by the old man's
+bedside.
+
+He gave a sigh of content when he saw her:
+
+"Ah, I'm glad!... I feel better already.... You won't leave me, will
+you, my little Suzanne?"
+
+And he fell asleep again almost at once, under the action of a fresh
+injection of morphia.
+
+As on the previous evening, the dining-room at the Old Mill remained
+empty. The maid took a light meal on a tray to Mme. Morestal and, next,
+to Marthe. But Marthe did not even answer her knock.
+
+Marthe Morestal had not left her room during the morning; and all day
+she stayed alone, with her door bolted and her shutters closed. She sat
+on the edge of a chair and, bent in two, held her fists to her jaws and
+clenched her teeth so as not to scream aloud. It would have done her
+good to cry; and she sometimes thought that her suffering was about to
+find an outlet in sobbing; but the relief of tears did not come to
+moisten her eyes. And, stubbornly, viciously, she went over the whole
+pitiful story, recalling Suzanne's stay in Paris, the excursions on
+which Philippe used to take the young girl and from which they both
+returned looking so happy and glad, their meeting at the Old Mill,
+Philippe's departure for Saint-Elophe and, the next day, Suzanne's
+strange attitude, her ambiguous questions, her spiteful smile, as of a
+rival endeavouring to hurt the wife and hoping to supplant her. Oh, what
+a cruel business! And how hateful and wicked life, once so sweet, now
+seemed to her!
+
+At six o'clock, driven by hunger, she went down to the dining-room. As
+she came out, after eating a little bread and drinking a glass of water,
+she saw Mme. Morestal going down the front-door steps to meet the
+doctor. She then remembered that her father-in-law was ill and that she
+had not yet seen him. His bedroom was close by. She crossed the passage,
+knocked, heard a voice--the voice of a nurse, she thought--say "Come
+in," and opened the door.
+
+Opposite her, at a few steps' distance, beside the sleeping man, was
+Suzanne.
+
+"You! You!" fumed Marthe. "You here!..."
+
+Suzanne began to tremble under her fixed gaze and stammered:
+
+"It was your father-in-law.... He insisted.... The doctor came ..."
+
+And, with her knees giving way beneath her, she said, over and over
+again:
+
+"I beg your pardon.... Forgive me ... forgive me.... It was my fault....
+Philippe would never have ..."
+
+Marthe at first listened without stirring. Perhaps she might have been
+just able to restrain herself. But, at the name of Philippe, at the name
+of Philippe uttered by Suzanne, she gave a bound, clutched the girl by
+the throat and flung her back against the table. She quivered with rage
+like an animal that at last holds its foe. She would have liked to
+destroy that body which her husband had clasped in his arms, to tear it,
+bite it, hurt it, hurt it as much as she could.
+
+Suzanne gurgled under the onslaught. Then, losing her head, Marthe,
+stiff-fingered, clawed her with her nails on the forehead, on the
+cheeks, on the lips, those moist, red lips which Philippe had kissed.
+Her hatred gained new life with every movement. Blood flowed and mingled
+with Suzanne's tears. Marthe vilified her with abominable words, words
+which she had never spoken before. And, drunk with rage, thrice she spat
+in her face.
+
+She ran out of the room, turned back, hissed a parting insult, slammed
+the door and went down the passage, calling:
+
+"Victor! Catherine!"
+
+Once in her room, she pressed the bell-push until the servants came:
+
+"My trunk! Bring it down! And get the carriage ready, Victor, do you
+hear? At once!..."
+
+Mme. Morestal appeared, attracted by the noise. Dr. Borel was with her.
+
+"What's the matter, Marthe? What is it?"
+
+"I refuse to stay here another hour!" retorted Marthe, heedless of the
+presence of the doctor and the servants. "You can choose between Suzanne
+and me...."
+
+"My husband promised ..."
+
+"Very well. As you choose that woman, I am going."
+
+She opened the drawers of the chest and flung the dresses and linen out
+promiscuously. With an abrupt movement, she pulled the cloth from the
+table. All the knicknacks fell to the floor.
+
+Dr. Borel tried to argue with her:
+
+"This is all very well, but where are you going?"
+
+"To Paris. My boys will come to me there."
+
+"But haven't you seen the papers? The position is growing more serious
+every hour. The frontier-corps are being mobilized. Are you sure of
+getting through?"
+
+"I am going," she said.
+
+"And suppose you don't reach Paris?"
+
+"I am going," she repeated.
+
+"What about Philippe?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. He understood that nothing mattered to her,
+neither her husband's existence nor the threat of war, and that there
+was no fighting against her despair. Nevertheless, as he went away with
+Mme. Morestal, he said, loud enough for Marthe to hear:
+
+"By the way, don't be uneasy about Philippe. He has been to see me and
+to enquire after his father. He will come back. I promised to let him
+know how things were going...."
+
+When Victor came, at seven o'clock, to say that the carriage was ready,
+Marthe had changed her mind. The thought that Philippe was hanging about
+the neighbourhood, that he might return to the house, that Suzanne and
+he would stay under the same roof and see each other as and when they
+pleased was more than she could bear. She remained, therefore, but
+standing behind her door, with her ears pricked up to catch the first
+sound. When everybody had gone to bed, she went downstairs and hid
+herself, until break of day, in a recess in the entrance-hall. She was
+prepared to spring out at the least creak on the stair, for she felt
+convinced that Suzanne would slip out in the dark with the object of
+joining Philippe. This time, Marthe would have killed her. And her
+jealousy was so exasperated that she lay in wait, not with fear, but
+with the fierce hope that Suzanne was really going to appear before her.
+
+Fits such as these, which are abnormal in a woman like Marthe, who, at
+ordinary times, obeyed her reason more readily than her instinct, fits
+such as these do not last. Marthe ended by suddenly bursting into sobs.
+After crying for a long time, she went up to her room and, worn out with
+fatigue, got into bed.
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+That morning, on the Tuesday, Philippe came to the Old Mill. Mme.
+Morestal was told and hurried down, in a great state of excitement,
+eager to vent her wrath upon her unworthy son. But, at the sight of him
+standing outside on the terrace, she overcame her need of recrimination
+and uttered no reproach, so frightened was she at seeing him look so
+pale and sad.
+
+She asked:
+
+"Where have you been?"
+
+"What does it matter?" replied Philippe. "I ought not to have come back
+... but I could not keep away, because of father.... I was too much
+upset.... How is he?"
+
+"Dr. Borel won't say anything definite yet."
+
+"And what is your opinion?"
+
+"My opinion? Well, frankly speaking, I am very hopeful. Your father is
+so strong! But, all the same, it was a violent shock...."
+
+"Yes," he said, "that is what alarms me. I have not lived, these last
+two days. How could I possibly go before knowing for certain?..."
+
+She hinted, with a certain feeling of apprehension:
+
+"Then you want to stay here?"
+
+"Yes ... provided he does not know."
+
+"The fact is ... it's like this ... Suzanne is here, in your father's
+room.... He insisted on her coming...."
+
+"Oh!" he said. "Is Suzanne here?"
+
+"Where would you have her go? She has no one left. Who knows when
+Jorance will be out of prison? And, besides, will he ever forgive her?"
+
+He stood wrapped in thought and asked:
+
+"Has Marthe met her?"
+
+"There was a terrible scene between them. I found Suzanne with her face
+streaming with blood, all over scratches."
+
+"Oh, the poor things!" he murmured. "The poor things!..."
+
+His head fell; and, presently, she saw that he was weeping.
+
+As she had no word of consolation to offer him, she turned round and
+walked to the drawing-room, where she shifted the furniture so as to
+have the satisfaction of putting it back in its place. She tried to find
+a pretext to utter her resentment. When Philippe sat down at the table,
+she showed him the newspapers:
+
+"Have you seen them?"
+
+"Yes, the news is bad."
+
+"That's not the point. The point is that the cabinet has fallen on the
+publication of the under-secretary's report. The whole Chamber rose up
+in protest."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, that report is the one based upon the last enquiry ... of two
+days ago ... at the Butte-aux-Loups.... So you see ..."
+
+Philippe felt a need to justify himself:
+
+"You forget, mother, that there was an unexpected factor in the case.
+Before the sitting of the Chamber, a telegram had been published
+reporting the words spoken by the emperor after hearing the
+Statthalter's explanation."
+
+He pointed to one of the papers:
+
+"Here, mother, read this. These are the emperor's own words: 'Our
+conscience is now at ease. We had the might; we have the right. God
+decide the issue! I am ready.' And the Chamber, when condemning and
+overthrowing a ministry that was prepared for conciliation, intended to
+reply to words which it looked upon as provocative."
+
+"Very well," said the old lady. "But, all the same, the report made no
+difference."
+
+"Yes, that is so."
+
+"Then what was the good of all your fuss and bothering? It was no use
+doing so much harm, considering that it served no purpose."
+
+Philippe shook his head:
+
+"It had to be. Certain actions must be performed and they should not be
+judged by the consequences which accident thrusts upon them, but by
+those which we expected of them, in all human logic and in all good
+faith."
+
+"Empty phrases!" she said, obstinately. "You ought not to have done
+it.... It was a very useless piece of heroism...."
+
+"Don't think that, mother. There was no need to be a hero to act as I
+did. It was enough to be an honest man. No one with the same clear
+vision as myself of what might happen would have hesitated any more than
+I did."
+
+"So you regret nothing?"
+
+He took her hand and, sadly:
+
+"Oh, mother, how can you talk like that, you who know me? How can I be
+indifferent to all this break-up around me?"
+
+He spoke the words with such despondency that she received an insight
+into his distress. But her anger with him was too great and especially
+their natures were too different for her to be touched by it. She
+concluded:
+
+"No matter, my boy, it's all your fault. If you had not listened to
+Suzanne...."
+
+He did not reply. The accusation cut into the most sensitive part of a
+wound which nothing could allay; and he was not the man to seek excuses.
+
+"Come," said his mother.
+
+She took him to another room on the second floor, further than the first
+from that which Marthe occupied:
+
+"Victor will bring you your bag and serve your meals in here; that will
+be best. And I will let your wife know."
+
+"Give her this letter, which I got ready for her," he said. "It is only
+asking for an interview, an explanation. She can't refuse."
+
+                                   *
+                                  * *
+
+In this way, in the course of that Tuesday, the Morestal family were
+once more gathered under the same roof; but in what heart-rending
+conditions! And how great was the hatred that now divided those beings
+once united by so warm an affection!
+
+Philippe felt the disaster in a way that was, so to speak, visible and
+palpable, during these hours in which each of his victims remained
+locked up, as though in a torture-chamber. Nothing could have distracted
+his mind from its obsession, and even the fear of that accursed war
+which he had not been able to avert.
+
+And yet news reached him at every moment, threatening news, like the
+news of a plague that comes nearer and nearer, despite the distance,
+despite the intervening waters.
+
+At lunch-time, it was Victor, who had hardly entered the room with
+Philippe's tray before he exclaimed:
+
+"Have you heard of the telegram from England, sir? The British premier
+has declared in parliament that, if war came, he would land a hundred
+thousand men at Brest and Cherbourg. That means an open alliance."
+
+Later on, he heard the gardener's son, Henriot, returning on his bicycle
+from Saint-Elophe, shouting to his father and Victor:
+
+"There's a mutiny at Strasburg! They're barricading the streets! They've
+blown up one of the barracks!"
+
+And Victor at once telephoned to the _Eclaireur des Vosges_, pretending
+that he was doing so on behalf of M. Morestal, and came running up to
+Philippe's room:
+
+"M. Philippe, Strasburg is in a state of insurrection.... All the
+peasants of the country around have taken up arms."
+
+And Philippe reflected that there was no hope, that the governments
+would have their hands forced. And he reflected upon it almost calmly.
+His part was played. Nothing interested him now but his personal sorrow,
+the health of his father, the sufferings of Marthe and Suzanne, those
+first victims of the hateful scourge.
+
+At five o'clock, he heard that one of the countries had issued an
+ultimatum against the other. Which of the two countries? And what was
+the purport of the ultimatum? He was unable to learn.
+
+At nine o'clock, the telegrams announced that the new cabinet, chosen
+for the greater part from among the members of the opposition, had moved
+the immediate creation of "a Committee of National Safety, charged to
+take all the necessary measures for the defence of the country in case
+of war." The Chamber had passed the motion through its various stages in
+one sitting and had appointed the Governor of Paris head of the
+Committee of National Safety, with discretionary powers. This implied an
+eventual dictatorship.
+
+All that Tuesday night, the Old Mill, silent and gloomy within doors,
+was filled with noise and excitement from without, a prey to the fever
+that precedes great catastrophes. Victor, the gardener and the
+gardener's son by turns bicycled at full speed to Saint-Elophe, where
+other people were bringing news from the sub-prefecture. The women
+moaned and wailed. At three o'clock in the morning, Philippe
+distinguished the angry voice of Farmer Saboureux.
+
+At daybreak, there was a lull. Philippe, exhausted by so many sleepless
+nights, ended by dozing off and, while still asleep, heard the sound of
+footsteps coming and going over the pebbles in the garden. Then,
+suddenly, pretty late in the morning, he was awakened by a clamour
+outside.
+
+He sprang out of bed. In front of the steps, Victor leapt from his
+horse, shouting:
+
+"The ultimatum is rejected. It's war. It's war!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THEY WHO GO TO THEIR DEATH
+
+
+Philippe went downstairs as soon as he was dressed. He found all the
+servants gathered in the hall, discussing the news. Victor confirmed it:
+he had come straight from Noirmont.
+
+Moreover, the postman had heard from a gendarme that the railway-station
+at the sub-prefecture was occupied by soldiers. He himself, when he left
+Saint-Elophe, had seen army telegraphists on duty in the post-office.
+
+These hasty measures fitted in with the rejection of the ultimatum and
+went to prove the imminence of the dreaded catastrophe.
+
+Philippe could not help saying:
+
+"That means war."
+
+"It's what I've been shouting from the house-tops for the last two
+days!" proclaimed Victor, who seemed greatly excited. "Oughtn't we to
+make preparations, here? At two steps from the frontier?"
+
+But a bell rang. Catherine ran to the drawing-room, where Mme. Morestal
+appeared:
+
+"Where were you? I have been looking for you. Hasn't the doctor been?
+Oh, there you are, Philippe! Quick, telephone to the doctor...."
+
+"Is my father ...?"
+
+"Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he
+ought.... It may be the morphia.... You had better telephone."
+
+She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one
+tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was
+increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air:
+
+"What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away
+and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize ..."
+
+And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round:
+
+"Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize.... The master's
+quite well again.... Well, then, they should make up their minds!..."
+
+"Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant.
+"Suppose the enemy invade us?"
+
+They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the
+doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window.
+
+An old woman entered, an old woman who was employed at the Old Mill as
+a charwoman. She waved her arms about:
+
+"Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest,
+who is with his regiment?... And the other, who is in the reserve?... Is
+it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!"
+
+"Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene.
+"You'll soon see if it's nonsense!... They'll all have to go ... my
+husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans."
+
+She was accompanied by a child of three or four years old and in her
+arms carried another, in swaddling-clothes, who was whimpering.
+
+"Of course they'll have to go," said Victor. "And what about me? You'll
+see, they'll call me to the colours, though I'm past the age!... You'll
+see!..."
+
+"You as well as the rest," grinned the gardener, who now entered in his
+turn. "As long as one can hold a rifle.... But our eldest, Henriot,
+who's sixteen: do you think they'll forget him?"
+
+"Oh, as for him," scolded the mother, "I shall hide him if they try to
+take him from me!"
+
+"And what about the gendarmes?"
+
+All were gesticulating and talking together. And Victor repeated:
+
+"Meantime, we had better be off. Shut up the house and go. That's the
+wisest. We can't remain here like this, at two steps from the frontier."
+
+In his eyes, war represented the disordered flight of the old men and
+the women, running away in herds and pushing before them carts loaded
+with furniture and bedding. And he stamped his foot, resolved upon
+making an immediate move.
+
+But a great hullabaloo arose on the terrace. A little farm-labourer came
+rushing into the drawing-room:
+
+"He's seen some! He's seen some!"
+
+He was running in front of his employer, Farmer Saboureux, who arrived
+like a whirlwind, with his eyes starting out of his head:
+
+"I've seen some! I've seen some! There were five of them! I've seen
+some!"
+
+"Seen what? Seen what?" said Victor, shaking him. "What have you seen?"
+
+"Uhlans!"
+
+"Uhlans! Are you sure?"
+
+"As I see you now! There were five of them on horseback! Oh, I knew them
+again ... it wasn't the first time!... Uhlans, I tell you!... They'll
+burn everything down!"
+
+Mme. Morestal came running up at the noise which he made:
+
+"Do be quiet! What's the matter with you?"
+
+"I've seen some!" yelled Saboureux. "Uhlans! They've gone off to fetch
+the others."
+
+"Uhlans!" she gasped in dismay.
+
+"Yes, like last time!"
+
+"Oh, heaven! Is it possible?"
+
+"I saw them, I say.... Go and tell monsieur le maire."
+
+She lost her temper:
+
+"Tell him? But he's ill!... And be quiet, you, I've had enough of it....
+Philippe, is the doctor coming?"
+
+Philippe put down the telephone:
+
+"The line is engaged by the military, it's not available for private
+communications."
+
+"Oh, but this is terrible!" said the old lady. "What's to become of us?"
+
+She thought only of Morestal, confined to his room, and of the
+inconvenience which he would suffer through this state of things.
+
+A bicycle-bell was heard outside.
+
+"Ah!" cried the gardener, leaning out of the window on the garden side.
+"There's my boy coming.... How the rascal is growing! And you think,
+mother, that they'll leave him at home to pluck the geese? A sharp lad
+like that?..."
+
+A few seconds later, the boy was in the drawing-room. Breathless,
+staggering, he reeled back against the table and blurted out, in a
+hollow voice:
+
+"It's ... war!..."
+
+Philippe, who retained some hope in spite of everything, flew at him:
+
+"War?"
+
+"Yes ... it's declared...."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"They didn't say."
+
+And Saboureux, seized with fresh anger, stuttered:
+
+"Of course!... I said so!... I saw the Uhlans ... there were five of
+them."
+
+There was a stir among the servants. All rushed to meet a new arrival,
+Gridoux, the official game-keeper, who came prancing along the terrace,
+brandishing a stick. He pushed them aside:
+
+"Don't bother me!... I've a message to give! Where's monsieur le maire?
+He must come at once! They're waiting for him!"
+
+He seemed furious at not finding the Mayor of Saint-Elophe there, ready
+to go back with him.
+
+"Not so loud, not so loud, Gridoux," Mme. Morestal ordered. "You'll wake
+him up."
+
+"He's got to be woke up. I've been sent from the town-hall.... He's got
+to come at once."
+
+Philippe laid hold of him:
+
+"Stop that noise, I tell you, hang it all! My father is ill."
+
+"That doesn't matter. I've got the butcher's cart.... I'll take him with
+me straight away, as he is."
+
+"But it's impossible," moaned Mme. Morestal. "He's in bed."
+
+"That doesn't matter.... There's orders to be given.... There's a whole
+company of soldiers ... soldiers from the manoeuvres.... The town-hall
+is upside down.... He's the only one to put things right."
+
+"Nonsense! Where are his deputies? Arnauld? Walter?"
+
+"They've lost their heads."
+
+"Who's at the town-hall?"
+
+"Everybody."
+
+"The parish-priest?"
+
+"A milksop!"
+
+"The parson?"
+
+"An ass! There's only one man who isn't crying like the others.... But
+M. Morestal would never consent.... They're not friends."
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The school-master."
+
+"Let them obey him, then!... The school-master will do!... Let him give
+orders in my husband's name."
+
+The wish to save Morestal any annoyance gave her a sudden authority.
+And she pushed everybody out, to the stairs, to the hall:
+
+"There, go away, all of you.... Gridoux, go back to the town-hall...."
+
+"Yes, that's it," said Saboureux, gripping the gamekeeper's arm, "go
+back to Saint-Elophe, Gridoux, and send the soldiers to me, eh? Let them
+defend me, hang it all! The Uhlans will burn down everything, my house,
+my barn!"
+
+They all went out in high excitement. Philippe was able for a long time
+to distinguish Farmer Saboureux's exclamations through the garden
+window. And the picture of all those anxious, noisy people, drunk with
+talk and action, rushing from side to side in obedience to unreasoning
+impulses, that picture suggested to him a vision of the great mad crowds
+which the war was about to let loose like the waves of a sea.
+
+"Come on," he said. "It's time to act."
+
+He took a railway-guide from the table and turned up the station at
+Langoux. The new strategic line passed through Langoux, the line which
+follows the Vosges and runs down to Belfort and Switzerland. He found
+that he could reach Bale and sleep at Zurich that same evening.
+
+He stood up and looked around him, with his heart wrung at the thought
+of going away like that, without bidding good-bye to any one. Marthe
+had not answered his letter and remained invisible. His father had
+turned him out and would never forgive him. He must go away by stealth,
+like a malefactor. "Well," he murmured, thinking of the act which he was
+on the point of accomplishing, "it's better so. In any case and in spite
+of everything, I was bound, now that war has been declared, to appear a
+miscreant and a renegade in my father's eyes. Have I the right to rob
+him of the least affectionate word?"
+
+Mme. Morestal came up from the garden and he heard her moaning:
+
+"War! Oh, heaven, war, like last time! And your poor father forced to
+keep his bed! Ah, Philippe, it's the end of all things!"
+
+She shifted a few chairs in their places, wiped the table-cover with her
+apron and, when the drawing-room seemed tidy to her eyes, went to the
+door:
+
+"Perhaps he is awake.... What will he want to do, when he hears?... If
+only he keeps quiet! A man of his age ..."
+
+Philippe went up to her, in an instinctive burst of confidence:
+
+"You know I'm going, mother?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"You're going? Well, yes, you are right. I dare say I shall persuade
+Marthe to come back to you...."
+
+He shook his head:
+
+"I'm afraid not...."
+
+"Yes, yes," she declared, "Marthe loves you very much. And then there
+are the children to bring you together. Leave it to me.... The same with
+your father: don't be alarmed.... Everything will smooth down in time
+between the two of you. Go, my boy.... Write to me often...."
+
+"Won't you kiss me, mother?"
+
+She kissed him on the forehead, a quick, cold kiss that revealed her
+lingering bitterness.
+
+But, as she was opening the door, she stopped, reflected and said:
+
+"You are going back to Paris, are you not? To your own place?"
+
+"Why do you ask, mother?"
+
+"An idea that came to me, that's all. My head is in such a state,
+because of your father, that I did not think of it before...."
+
+"What idea? Can you tell me?"
+
+"About this war.... But, no, as a professor, you're exempt, aren't you?"
+
+He understood her fears and, as he was unable to reassure her by
+confessing his secret intentions, he did not enlighten her further:
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm exempt."
+
+"Still, you spent some time in the reserve?"
+
+"Only at the government offices. And that's where we serve in time of
+war."
+
+"Oh," she said, "that's all right, that's all right!... Else I should
+have been very anxious.... You see, the mere thought that you might be
+fighting ... that you might be wounded ... oh, it would be horrible!"
+
+She drew him to her with a sort of violence that delighted Philippe and
+kissed him as he had longed to be kissed. He was nearly saying:
+
+"Do you understand, mother darling?... Do you understand what I was
+trying to do, the other day? Thousands and thousands of mothers will be
+made to shed tears.... Great as our private troubles are, they will
+pass. Those which begin to-morrow will never pass. Death is
+irreparable."
+
+But why waste words? Did not his mother's emotion prove him absolutely
+right?
+
+They remained for a few moments locked in each other's embrace and the
+old lady's tears fell upon Philippe's cheeks.
+
+At last, she said:
+
+"You are not going at once, are you?"
+
+"As soon as I have packed my bag."
+
+"What a hurry you are in! Besides, there's no train yet. No, I want to
+kiss you once more and to make sure that you have all you want. And
+then it's impossible for you and Marthe to part like this. I will speak
+to her presently. But I must go to your father first: he may want
+me...."
+
+He went with her as far as the sick man's room and, as she had taken
+from a cupboard a pile of towels that filled her arms, she said:
+
+"Open the door for me, will you?"
+
+Then he saw his father at the other end of the room, lying lifeless,
+very pale in the face, and Suzanne sitting at the foot of the bed. He
+clearly distinguished the red scratches on her cheeks and chin.
+
+"Shut the door, Suzanne," said Mme. Morestal, when she was inside.
+
+Suzanne did so. As she approached, she saw Philippe in the dusk of the
+passage. She did not make a movement nor give a start; and she closed
+the door upon him as though he had not been there.
+
+"She too," thought Philippe, "she too will never forgive me, any more
+than my father or Marthe."
+
+And he resolved to go away at once, now that his mother's affection had
+given him a little comfort.
+
+He found Victor at the foot of the garden-steps, indulging in
+lamentations in the midst of the other servants and recommending
+immediate flight:
+
+"We can pack up the plate, the clocks, the valuables in an hour and be
+off.... When the enemy arrive, they will find no one here...."
+
+Philippe called him and asked if it was possible to get a carriage at
+Saint-Elophe:
+
+"Oh, are you going, sir? You are quite right. But not just yet, are you?
+Presently, I suppose, with Mme. Philippe? I've orders to drive Mme.
+Philippe to Saint-Elophe. From there, there's the diligence that goes to
+Noirmont."
+
+"No, I am not going in that direction."
+
+"How do you mean, sir? There's only one line to Paris."
+
+"I sha'n't go straight to Paris. I want to take the train at Langoux."
+
+"The new line to Switzerland? But that's an endless journey, sir! It
+goes all the way down to Belfort."
+
+"Yes, that's it. How far is it from Saint-Elophe to Langoux?"
+
+"Three miles and a bit."
+
+"In that case, I shall walk," said Philippe. "Thank you."
+
+He was in a hurry to leave the Old Mill, for he felt that events were
+hastening to a crisis and that, at any moment, he might be prevented
+from carrying out his plan.
+
+As a matter of fact, when he turned back, he was passed by Henriot, the
+gardener's son, who was clapping his hands:
+
+"There they are! The soldiers of the manoeuvring company!... They are
+going to the Col du Diable, at the quick step. We shall see them from
+the terrace."
+
+He was followed by the other servants, by his mother, by his little
+brother, who, like himself, was waving his hands; and they all crossed
+the drawing-room.
+
+Philippe went to the edge of the terrace. The troops were already
+debouching in good order. They were young soldiers, beardless boys for
+the most part, and looked almost like children amusing themselves by
+marching in file. But he saw an unaccustomed expression of anxiety and
+doubt on their faces. They marched in silence, hanging their heads and
+as though bent by the fatigue of the recent manoeuvres.
+
+A word of command sounded in the rear and was repeated in a sharp voice
+by two non-commissioned officers. There was a momentary undulating
+movement. Then the column proceeded at the double down the slope that
+led to the Etang-des-Moines.
+
+And, when the last ranks had filed off below the terrace, two officers
+appeared, followed by a bugler. One of the two sprang briskly from his
+horse, flung the reins to the bugler and ran up the staircase, shouting:
+
+"I'll be with you presently, Fabregues.... Meet me in the Col du
+Diable.... Take up your position at Saboureux's Farm."
+
+On reaching the terrace, he raised his hand to his cap:
+
+"Can I see M. Morestal, please?"
+
+Philippe stepped forward:
+
+"My father is laid up, captain."
+
+The officer was obviously affected by the news:
+
+"Oh!" he said. "I was relying on M. Morestal. I have had the pleasure of
+making his acquaintance and he spoke to me of the Old Mill.... I now see
+what he meant. The position is really excellent. But, for the moment,
+monsieur, would you mind?... I know you are on the telephone here and I
+have an urgent message.... Excuse me ... it is such a serious time...."
+
+Philippe took him to the telephone. The officer pressed the button
+impatiently and, as he did not receive a reply at once, turned round:
+
+"Meanwhile, allow me to introduce myself ... Captain Daspry.... I met
+your father in connection with a rather funny incident, the slaughter of
+Farmer Saboureux's fowls.... Hullo! Hullo! Gad, how difficult it is to
+get put on!... Hullo! Hullo!... I even shocked M. Morestal by refusing
+to punish the culprit, one Duvauchel, an incorrigible
+anti-militarist.... An excuse like that would just have served the
+beggar's turn...."
+
+He had a rather vulgar type of face and a complexion that was too red;
+but his frank eyes and his gaiety of manner made him exceedingly
+attractive. He began to laugh:
+
+"To show his gratitude, Duvauchel promised me, this morning, to turn his
+back on the enemy, at the first shot, and to desert.... He has a
+chauffeur's place reserved for him in Switzerland.... And, as Duvauchel
+says, 'There's nothing like a French greaser.'... Hullo!... Ah, at
+last!... Hullo! Captain Daspry speaking.... I want the military post at
+Noirmont.... Yes, at once, please.... Hullo!... Is that Noirmont? The
+military post? I want Major Dutreuil.... Switch me on to him.... It's
+urgent."
+
+Captain Daspry ceased. Instinctively, Philippe took up the other
+receiver:
+
+"May I?"
+
+"Oh, certainly!..."
+
+And Philippe heard the following dialogue, with its swift and anxious
+questions and answers:
+
+"Is that you, Daspry?"
+
+"Yes, major."
+
+"Did the cyclists catch you up?"
+
+"Which cyclists?"
+
+"I sent three after you."
+
+"I've seen nothing of them so far. I'm at Morestal's."
+
+"The Old Mill?"
+
+"Yes, major ... I wrote to you about it."
+
+"Well, what is it, Daspry?"
+
+"Uhlans have been seen in the Col du Diable."
+
+"Yes, I know. The Boersweiler cavalry are on the march."
+
+"What!"
+
+"They will cross the frontier in an hour from now, supported by two
+regiments of infantry."
+
+"What!"
+
+"That's what I sent my cyclists to tell you. Get to the Col du Diable as
+fast as you can."
+
+"My men are there, major. As soon as the enemy arrives, we will fall
+back, keeping in touch with them as we do so."
+
+"No."
+
+"Eh? But I can't do otherwise, I have only my company."
+
+"You must stand your ground, Daspry. You must stand your ground for two
+hours and a half or three hours. My battalion has just left barracks.
+The 28th are following us by forced marches. We shall be at the frontier
+by two o'clock in the afternoon. You must stand your ground."
+
+"But I say, major!"
+
+"You must stand your ground, Daspry."
+
+With a mechanical movement, the officer drew himself up, brought his
+heels together and replied:
+
+"We shall stand our ground, major."
+
+He replaced the receiver and thought for a few minutes. Then he said,
+with a smile:
+
+"By Jove, that's a nice beginning! Two hundred men against some
+thousands ... for three hours! If one of the 4th company remains alive,
+he'll be a lucky man...."
+
+"But it's madness!" Philippe protested.
+
+"Monsieur, the Alpine Rifles and the 28th of the line are on their way;
+and Dornat's division is certainly behind them. If they arrive too late,
+if the ridges of the Vosges are taken, if the frontier is crossed, if
+the Saint-Elophe valley is occupied and all this on the very day on
+which war is declared, you can imagine the consternation which this
+first check will produce all over France. If, on the other hand, a
+handful of men sacrifice themselves ... and _succeed_, the moral effect
+will be incalculable. I shall stand my ground for three hours,
+monsieur."
+
+The words were spoken simply, with the profound conviction of a man who
+realizes the full importance of his act. He was already on his way down
+the stone steps. Saluting Philippe, he added:
+
+"You can congratulate M. Morestal, monsieur. He is a far-seeing
+Frenchman. He foresaw everything that is happening. Let us hope that it
+is not too late."
+
+He leapt into the saddle, spurred his horse and set off at a gallop.
+
+Philippe followed him with his eyes as far as the Etang-des-Moines. When
+the officer had disappeared behind a dip in the ground, he gave way to
+an angry movement and muttered:
+
+"Play-acting!"
+
+However, he turned the telescope on the Col du Diable and saw soldiers
+all around Saboureux's Farm, running, scrambling up the rocks on every
+side with the agility of young goats. He reflected that they had
+forgotten their weariness and seemed to be diverting themselves with an
+exercise to which each contributed his own effort, his individual
+tactics and his qualities of self-reliance and initiative.
+
+He stood pensive for a few minutes. But time was pressing. He called
+Victor and went up to his room:
+
+"Quick, my bag."
+
+They stuffed the papers and manuscripts into it promiscuously, together
+with a little linen and the toilet-articles. The bag was strapped up.
+Philippe seized it:
+
+"Good-bye, Victor. Tell my mother I sent her my love."
+
+He crossed the landing. But some one darted out of an adjacent room. It
+was Marthe. She barred his way:
+
+"Where are you going?" she asked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IDEAS AND FACTS
+
+
+Marthe, who had kept her room since the day before, but remained
+attentive to all that was happening at the Old Mill, had, through her
+open door and window, heard and seen the hubbub, the fuss made by the
+servants, all the mad fluster of a house that feels itself threatened by
+an approaching cyclone.
+
+She had overcome her fit of anger and hatred, was now mistress of
+herself and was no longer frightened of a possible meeting between
+Philippe and Suzanne. Another torment obsessed her. What did her husband
+mean to do? Brought face to face with an eventuality which he had often
+contemplated, what line of conduct would he pursue?
+
+And it was he that she was watching. Before she went away, she wished to
+know. She overheard his first conversation with Victor. She saw his
+meeting with Captain Daspry from a distance. She saw him go to his room.
+She saw him come out again. And, in spite of herself, although urged by
+a very definite feeling, she stood up before him like an obstacle:
+
+"Where are you going?" she asked.
+
+Philippe did not lose countenance. He replied:
+
+"What interest can that have for you?"
+
+"Come," she said, "we have to speak to each other.... Come in here."
+
+She took him into her room, shut the door and repeated, in a masterful
+tone:
+
+"Where are you going, Philippe?"
+
+He replied, with the same decision:
+
+"I am going away."
+
+"There is no carriage."
+
+"I shall walk."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"To Noirmont."
+
+"To take which train?"
+
+"The train to Paris."
+
+"That's not true," she said, vehemently. "You are not going to Paris.
+You are going to Langoux, to take the train to Belfort."
+
+"Just so, but I shall be in Paris to-morrow morning."
+
+"That's not true! You do not mean to stop at Belfort. You will go on to
+Bale, to Switzerland. And, if you go to Switzerland, it will not be for
+a day, it will be for months ... for your life!"
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"You intend to desert, Philippe."
+
+He did not speak. And his silence dumbfoundered her. Violent as was the
+certainty that filled and angered her, Marthe was stupefied when he made
+no protest.
+
+She stammered:
+
+"Is it possible? You really intend to desert?"
+
+Philippe grew irritable:
+
+"Well, what has it to do with you? You had a letter from me yesterday,
+offering you an explanation. You have not even troubled to reply! Very
+well! I have done you an irreparable wrong. Our whole married life is
+shattered by my fault. Your attitude up to the present shows me that you
+never mean to forgive me.... Then what right have you to call me to
+account for what I do?"
+
+She repeated, in a low voice, with fixed eyes:
+
+"You intend to desert...."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is it really credible? I knew your ideas against war ... all the ideas
+in your books ... which agree with my own.... But I never thought of
+this.... You never spoke to me of it.... And then, no ... I could never
+have believed it...."
+
+"You will have to believe it, for all that, Marthe."
+
+He turned to the door. Once again she stood up in front of him.
+
+"Let me pass," he said.
+
+"No."
+
+"You are mad!"
+
+"Listen to me ... Philippe...."
+
+"I refuse to listen. This is not the time for quarrelling. I have made
+up my mind to go. I will go. It is not a rash impulse. It is a decision
+taken silently and calmly. Let me pass."
+
+He tried to clear the door. She pushed him back, suddenly seized with an
+energy which became all the fiercer as she felt her husband to be more
+inflexible. She had only a few minutes; and that was what frightened
+her. In those few minutes, by means of phrases, poor phrases flung out
+at random, she had to win the battle and to win it against a foe with
+whose mettle and obstinacy she was well acquainted.
+
+"Let me pass," he repeated.
+
+"Well, then, no, no, no!" she cried. "You shall not desert! No, you
+shall not do that infamous thing! There are things that one can't do....
+This thing, Philippe, is monstrous!... Listen, Philippe, listen while I
+tell you...."
+
+She went up to him and, under her breath:
+
+"Listen, Philippe ... listen to this confession.... Philippe, you know
+what you did on Sunday, your cruelty to your father, to Suzanne, to all
+of us: well, yes, I understood it.... I suffered the pangs of death, I
+suffered more than any of the others.... Each word that you spoke burnt
+into me like fire.... But, all the same, Philippe, I understood.... You
+had to sacrifice us to the cause of peace. It was your right, it was
+your duty to victimize us all in order that you might save a whole
+nation.... But what you now propose to do.... Oh, the shame of it!...
+Listen, if you did that ... I should think of you as one thinks of ... I
+don't know what ... as one thinks of the most contemptible, the most
+revolting ..."
+
+Shrugging his shoulders impatiently, he interrupted her:
+
+"I can't help it if you do not understand. It is my right ... and my
+duty also...."
+
+"Your duty is to join your regiment, now that war is declared, and to
+fight, yes, to fight for France, like every other Frenchman ... like the
+first peasant that comes along, who may tremble with all his poor human
+flesh, it is true, and whose heart sinks within him and whose stomach
+turns cold, but who believes that his duty lies in being there ... and
+who goes ahead, come what may! March on, as he does, Philippe! I have
+accepted all your opinions, I have shared them and backed them.... If
+there is to be an end of our union, at least let me address this last
+entreaty to you: join your regiment!... Your place is over there...."
+
+"My place is anywhere except where men commit the odious act of
+killing," exclaimed Philippe, who had listened to her in spite of
+himself and who now suddenly collected himself. "My place is with my
+friends. They trust me and I trust them. They are the men whom I must
+join."
+
+"Where? In Paris?"
+
+"No. We swore, at the first signal, to meet at Zurich. From there, we
+shall issue a manifesto calling upon all the thinkers and all the men of
+independent views in Germany and France."
+
+"But no one will answer your appeal!"
+
+"Never mind! The appeal will have gone forth. The world will have heard
+the protest of a few free men, professors like myself, tutors, writers,
+men who reflect, men who act in accordance with their convictions, and
+not like animals led to the slaughter."
+
+"You must defend your country," said Marthe, seeking to gain time, in
+the hope that something would come to her assistance.
+
+"I must defend my ideas!" declared Philippe. "If my country chooses to
+commit an act of folly, that is no reason why I should follow her. What
+nonsense it is, these two great nations, the most civilized in the
+world, going to war because they can't agree about the arrest of a petty
+official, or because one of them wants to eat up Morocco and the other
+is incensed at not being invited to the banquet! And, for that, they are
+going to fly at each other's throats, like wild beasts! To scatter
+mourning and misery on every side! No, I refuse to take part in it!
+These hands, Marthe, these hands shall not kill! I have brothers in
+Germany as well as France. I have no enmity against them. I will not
+kill them."
+
+She pretended to listen to his arguments with attention, knowing that,
+in this way, she would detain him a little longer. And she said:
+
+"Ah, your German brothers, whether they feel enmity or not, you may be
+sure that they will march against France! Is not your love for her the
+greater?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I love her, but just for the very reason that she is the most
+generous and noble of countries, that in her alone the idea of revolt
+against the law of blood and war can take root and sprout and blossom."
+
+"You will be treated as a coward."
+
+"To-day, perhaps ... but, in ten years, in twenty years, we shall be
+treated as heroes. Our names will be quoted as the names of the
+benefactors of humanity. And it will be France again that shall have had
+that honour ... through us! Through me!"
+
+"But your name will be reviled during your lifetime."
+
+"Reviled by those whom I despise, by those who have the cast of mind of
+that captain--though he's one of the best of them--who laughs and jokes
+when he is sent to certain death, he and his company."
+
+Marthe answered indignantly:
+
+"It's the laughter of a Frenchman, Philippe, of a Frenchman hiding his
+anguish under a little light chaff. A glorious laughter, which forms the
+pride of our race!"
+
+"One does not laugh in the presence of the death of others."
+
+"Yes, Philippe, when it is to hide the danger from them and to keep all
+the horror and all the terror for one's self alone.... Listen,
+Philippe!..."
+
+The sound of firing came from the distance, on the other side of the
+house. For some seconds, there was an uninterrupted crackle of musketry;
+then it came at rarer intervals; and, presently, there was no sound at
+all.
+
+Marthe whispered:
+
+"The first shot fired in the war, Philippe.... They are fighting on the
+frontier.... It's your country they are defending.... France is in
+danger.... Oh, doesn't your heart quiver like the heart of a son? Don't
+you feel the wounds they are giving her ... the wounds they intend to
+give her?..."
+
+He wore his attitude of suffering, keeping his arms crossed stiffly over
+his chest and half-closing his eyes. He answered, sorrowfully:
+
+"Yes, yes, I feel those wounds.... But why is she fighting? For what mad
+love of glory? Is she not intoxicated with successes and conquests?
+Remember our journey through Europe.... Wherever we went, we found
+traces of her passage: cemeteries and charnel-houses to bear witness
+that she was the great victress. Isn't that enough of conquests and
+triumphs?"
+
+"But, fool that you are," cried Marthe, "she is not trying to conquer!
+She is defending herself! Picture this vision, for a moment: France
+invaded once more ... France dismembered ... France wiped from the face
+of the earth...."
+
+"But no, no," he said, with a gesture of protest, "there is no question
+of that!"
+
+"Yes, there is, there is a question of that: it's a question of life or
+death to her.... And you, you are deserting!"
+
+Philippe did not stir. Marthe felt that he was, if not shaken, at least
+anxious, uneasy. But, suddenly, he uncrossed his arms and, striking the
+table with his fist:
+
+"I must! I must! I promised to!... And I was right to promise! And I
+will keep my oath! What you call deserting is fighting, but fighting the
+real fight! I too am going to wage war, but it will be the war of
+independence and brains; and my comrades in heroism are waiting for me.
+There, Marthe, I won't listen to you any longer!"
+
+She glued her back to the door, with her arms outstretched:
+
+"And the children! The children whom you are abandoning!"
+
+"You will send them to me later."
+
+She raised her hand:
+
+"Never, I swear it on their heads, never shall you set eyes on them
+again! The sons of a deserter!... They will disown you!"
+
+"They will love me, if they understand."
+
+"I will teach them not to understand you."
+
+"If they do not understand me, it is I who will disown them. So much the
+worse for them!"
+
+He took her by the shoulders and tried to push her away. And, when
+Marthe resisted, he jostled her, exasperated by the fear of the
+unforeseen obstacle that might spring up, the arrival of his mother,
+perhaps the apparition of old Morestal himself.
+
+Marthe weakened. He at once seized her wrist and pulled at the door.
+But, with one last effort, she thrust back her husband and, panting, in
+despair:
+
+"One word! One word more!" she implored. "Listen, Philippe, don't do
+this thing.... And, if you do not do it, well, I think I could.... Oh,
+it is horrible to coerce me like this!... Still, I won't have you go....
+Listen, Philippe. You know my pride, the bitterness of my feelings and
+all that I have suffered, all that I am suffering because of Suzanne.
+Well, I will forget everything. I offer not only to forgive, but to
+forget. Never a single word shall remind you of the past ... never an
+allusion ... I swear it! But don't desert, Philippe, I entreat you,
+don't do that!"
+
+She hung on to his clothes and pressed herself against him, stammering:
+
+"No, don't do that.... Do not inflict that disgrace upon your children!
+The sons of a deserter!... Oh, I entreat you, Philippe, stay! We will go
+away together ... and we will begin life again as it was before...."
+
+She dragged herself at his feet, humble and supplicating, and she
+received the terrible impression that her words were of no avail. She
+was encountering a rival idea, against which all her strength was
+shattered. Philippe did not hear her. No feeling of pity even turned him
+towards her.
+
+Calmly, with an irresistible movement, he clasped Marthe's wrists,
+gathered them in one of his hands, opened the door with the other and,
+flinging his wife from him, fled.
+
+Marthe was seized with a feeling akin to despair. However, the bag was
+still there and she believed that he would come back to fetch it. Then,
+realizing her mistake, she suddenly rose and started to run:
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!" she cried.
+
+Like him, she was thinking of some outside interference, of old
+Morestal, whom the outcries might attract and whom Philippe would find
+on his path.
+
+"Philippe! Philippe!"
+
+She became scared, not knowing where to look for him. There was nobody
+in the garden. She returned to the drawing-room, for she seemed to hear
+a sound of voices. And in fact she saw a sergeant and a private soldier
+hurriedly crossing the terrace, with the gardener's son leading the way.
+
+"Follow me!" the brat commanded. "We'll go up to the roof.... You can
+see the whole valley from there.... Ah, the telescope!..."
+
+He caught up the instrument as he passed.
+
+Marthe rushed at them:
+
+"What's happening?"
+
+"Impossible to hold out over there," said the sergeant. "There are too
+many of them.... We're falling back...."
+
+"But, in that case, _they_ will be coming?"
+
+"Yes, yes, they're coming, right enough!..."
+
+Marthe went out on the terrace. A swarm of soldiers came running up the
+staircase.
+
+She saw Philippe in a corner. He was speaking to the men:
+
+"Are they coming?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have they crossed the frontier?"
+
+"No, not yet."
+
+He turned to his wife and said to her, as a piece of good news:
+
+"They have not crossed the frontier yet."
+
+And he went to meet another group of soldiers.
+
+Then Marthe believed that fate had sent her the aid for which she was
+praying. She could now do nothing more but trust to events.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE SACRED SOIL
+
+
+"Bugler!... Sound the rally ... at the double ... and quietly."
+
+It was Captain Daspry who now arrived, with a brisk gait, but with the
+grave and resolute face of a leader who is commanding at a solemn
+moment.
+
+He said to Philippe:
+
+"Is M. Morestal still unwell?"
+
+Mme. Morestal ran out from the house:
+
+"My husband is asleep.... He is very tired.... The morphia.... But, if
+there is anything you want, I can take his place. I know his intentions,
+his preparations."
+
+"We shall attempt the impossible," said the officer. And, addressing his
+lieutenant, he added, "It would have been madness to stay over there,
+wouldn't it, Fabregues? It's not a question of demolishing a few Uhlans,
+as we did, but of standing our ground against a whole brigade who were
+climbing the other slope.... Oh, it was all planned long ago!... And M.
+Morestal is a jolly clever man!..."
+
+The bugle sounded a low call and the Alpine Rifles emerged from every
+side, through the terrace, the garden and the back entrances.
+
+"That will do!" said the officer to the bugler. "They have heard ... and
+I don't want the enemy to hear as well."
+
+He took out his watch:
+
+"Twelve o'clock.... Two hours more, at least.... Oh, if I only had
+twenty-five minutes or half an hour in which to prepare my
+resistance.... But nothing will stop them.... The passage is free...."
+
+He called:
+
+"Fabregues!"
+
+"Yes, captain."
+
+"All the men in front of the coach-house, on the left of the garden. At
+the back of the coach-house is a hay-loft. Break down the door...."
+
+"Victor, show the gentleman the way," said Mme. Morestal to the servant.
+"Here is the key."
+
+"In the loft," continued the captain, "you will find two hundred bags of
+plaster.... Use them to block up the parapet of this terrace.... Quick
+as you can!... Every minute is worth an hour."
+
+He himself went to the parapet, measured it and counted the balusters.
+In the distance, within rifle-range, the Col du Diable formed a deep
+gash between the great rocks. Saboureux's Farm guarded the entrance. As
+yet, not a single figure of the enemy showed.
+
+"Ah, twenty minutes!... If I only had twenty minutes!" repeated the
+officer. "The position of the Old Mill is hard to beat. One would stand
+a chance or two ..."
+
+An adjutant and a couple more soldiers appeared at the top of the
+staircase.
+
+"Well?" asked Captain Daspry. "Are they coming?"
+
+"The vanguard was turning the corner of the factory, at five hundred
+yards from the pass," replied the adjutant.
+
+"Are there any more of our men behind you?"
+
+"Yes, captain, there's Duvauchel. He's wounded. They've laid him on a
+stretcher...."
+
+"Duvauchel!" cried the officer, anxiously. "It's not a serious wound, I
+hope?"
+
+"Upon my word ... I shouldn't like to say."
+
+"Dash it all! But then one saw nothing but that devil in the front
+line.... There was no holding him...."
+
+"Yes," chuckled the adjutant, "he has a way of his own of deserting in
+the face of the enemy!... He charges straight at them, the beggar!"
+
+But Mme. Morestal grew frightened:
+
+"A man wounded! I will go and prepare some bandages, get out the
+medicine-chest.... We have all that's wanted.... Will you come, Marthe?"
+
+"Yes, mother," replied Marthe, without budging.
+
+She did not remove her eyes from her husband and tried to read on
+Philippe's face the feelings that stirred him. She had first of all seen
+him go back to the drawing-room and cross the entrance-hall, as though
+he were thinking of the way out through the garden, which was still
+free. The sudden arrival of the riflemen pushed him back; and he talked
+to several of them in a low voice and gave them some bread and a flask
+of brandy. Then he returned to the terrace. His inaction, in the midst
+of the constant traffic to and fro, was obviously irksome to him. Twice
+he consulted the drawing-room clock; and Marthe guessed that he was
+thinking of the hour of the train and the time which he would need to
+reach Langoux Station. But she did not alarm herself. Every second was
+weaving bonds around him that tied him down without his knowing it; and
+it seemed to Marthe as though events had no other object than to make
+her husband's departure impossible.
+
+The resistance, meanwhile, was being organized. Swiftly, the riflemen
+brought the bags of plaster, which the captain at once ordered to be
+placed between every pair of balusters. Each of the bags was of the
+height and width corresponding with the dimensions of the intervals and
+left an empty space, a loop-hole, on either side. And old Morestal had
+even had the forethought to match the colour of the sacking with that of
+the parapet, so that it might not be suspected in the distance that
+there was a defence behind which sharpshooters lay hidden.
+
+On either side of the terrace, the wall surrounding the garden was the
+object of similar cares. The captain ordered the soldiers to set out
+bags at the foot of the wall so as to make the top accessible from the
+inside.
+
+But a sound of shouting recalled the captain to the drawing-room. The
+gardener's son came tumbling down from his observatory, yelling:
+
+"Saboureux's Farm is on fire! You can see the smoke! You can see the
+flames!"
+
+The captain leapt out on the terrace.
+
+The smoke was whirling above the barn. Gleams kindled, faint as yet and
+hesitating. And, suddenly, as though set free, the flames shot up in
+angry spirals. The wind at once beat them down again. The roof of the
+house took fire. And, in a few minutes, it was a violent flare,
+accompanied by the quick blaze of the rotten beams, the dry thatch, the
+trusses of hay and straw heaped up by the hundred in the barn and in the
+sheds.
+
+"To work!" shouted the captain, gleefully. "The Col du Diable is blocked
+by the flames.... They'll last for quite fifteen or twenty minutes ...
+and the enemy have no other road...."
+
+His excitement communicated itself to the men. Not one of them broke
+down beneath the weight of the bags, heavy though these were. The
+captain posted the non-commissioned officers at regular intervals, so
+that his orders could be passed on from the terrace to every end of the
+property.
+
+Lieutenant Fabregues came up. The materials were beginning to fall short
+and the lofty wall remained inaccessible to the marksmen in several
+places.
+
+Mme. Morestal behaved like a heroine:
+
+"Take the furniture, captain, the chairs, the tables. Break them up, if
+necessary.... Burn them even.... Do just as if my husband were here."
+
+"M. Morestal said something about a stock of cartridges," asked the
+captain.
+
+"In the boxes in the harness-room. Here are the keys."
+
+The men redoubled their activity. The Old Mill was ransacked; and the
+soldiers passed laden with mattresses, sofas, old oak chests, hangings
+also and carpets, with which they stopped up the holes and the windows.
+
+"The flames are spreading," said the captain, going to the top of the
+staircase. "There's nothing left of Farmer Saboureux's buildings.... But
+by what miracle ...? Who set the place on fire?..."
+
+"I did."
+
+A peasant stood at the top of the steps, in a scorched blouse, with his
+face all blackened.
+
+"You, Saboureux?"
+
+"Yes, I," growled Saboureux, fiercely. "I had to.... I heard you over
+there: 'If we could only stop them,' says you. 'If I had half an hour to
+spare!'... Well, there's your half an hour for you.... I set fire to
+the shanty."
+
+"And very nearly roasted me inside it," grinned Old Poussiere, who was
+with the farmer. "I was asleep in the straw...."
+
+The captain nodded his head:
+
+"By Jove, Farmer Saboureux, but that's a damned sportsmanlike thing
+you've done! I formed a wrong opinion of you. I apologize. May I shake
+you by the hand?"
+
+The peasant put out his hand and then walked away, with his back bent in
+two. He sat down in a corner of the drawing-room. Poussiere also huddled
+into a chair, took a piece of bread from his pocket, broke it and gave
+half to Saboureux, as though he thought it only natural to share what he
+had with the man who had nothing left.
+
+"Here's Duvauchel, sir!" announced a rifleman. "Here's Duvauchel!"
+
+The staircase was too narrow and they had to bring the stretcher round
+by the garden. The captain ran to meet the wounded man, who made an
+effort to stand on his legs:
+
+"What's up, Duvauchel? Are you hit?"
+
+"Not I, sir, not I," said the man, whose face was livid and his eyes
+burning with fever. "A cherry-stone tickled my shoulder, by way of a
+lark. It's nothing...."
+
+"But the blood's flowing...."
+
+"It's nothing, I tell you, sir.... I know all about it.... Saw plenty of
+it as a greaser!... It won't show in five minutes ... and then I'm
+off...."
+
+"Oh, of course, I forgot, you're deserting!..."
+
+"Rather! The comrades are waiting for me...."
+
+"Then begin by getting your wound dressed...."
+
+"My wound dressed? Oh, that's a good one! I tell you, sir, it's nothing
+... less than nothing ... a kiss ... a puff of wind...."
+
+He stood up for an instant, but his eyelids flickered, his hands sought
+for support and he fell back upon the litter.
+
+Mme. Morestal and Marthe hastened to his side:
+
+"Let me, mamma, please," said Marthe, "I'm used to it.... But you've
+forgotten the absorbent wool ... and the peroxide of hydrogen.... Quick,
+mamma ... and more bandages, lots of bandages...."
+
+Mme. Morestal went out. Marthe bent over the wounded man and felt his
+pulse without delay:
+
+"Quite right, it's nothing," she said. "The artery is uninjured."
+
+She uncovered the wound and, very tenderly, staunched the blood that
+trickled from it:
+
+"The peroxide, quick, mamma."
+
+She took the bottle which some one held out to her and, raising her
+head, saw Suzanne stooping like herself over the wounded man.
+
+"M. Morestal is waking up," said the girl. "Mme. Morestal sent me in her
+stead...."
+
+Marthe did not so much as start. She did not even feel as though an
+unpleasant memory had flitted through her mind, compelling her to make
+an effort to suppress her hatred:
+
+"Unroll the bandages," she said.
+
+And Suzanne also was calm in the face of her enemy. No sense of shame or
+embarrassment troubled her. Their mingled breath caressed the soldier's
+face.
+
+Nor did it seem that any memory of love existed between Philippe and
+Suzanne or that a carnal bond united them. They looked at each other
+unmoved. Marthe herself told Philippe to uncork a bottle of boracic. He
+did so. His hand touched Suzanne's. Neither he nor Suzanne felt a
+thrill.
+
+Around them continued the uninterrupted work of the men, each of whom
+obeyed orders and executed them according to his own initiative, without
+fuss or confusion. The servants were all in the drawing-room. The women
+aided in the work. Amid the great anguish that oppressed every heart at
+the first formidable breath of war, no one thought of anything but his
+individual task, that contribution of heroism which fate was claiming
+from one and all. What mattered the petty wounds of pride, the petty
+griefs to which the subtleties of love give rise! What signified the
+petty treacheries of daily life!
+
+"He's better," said Marthe. "Here, Suzanne, let him sniff at the
+smelling-salts."
+
+Duvauchel opened his eyes. He saw Marthe and Suzanne, smiled and
+murmured:
+
+"By Jingo!... It was worth while!... Duvauchel's a lucky dog!..."
+
+But an unexpected silence fell upon the great drawing-room, like a
+spontaneous cessation of all the organs at work. And, suddenly, a voice
+was heard on the threshold:
+
+"_They_ have crossed the frontier! Two of them have crossed the
+frontier!"
+
+And Victor exclaimed:
+
+"And there are more coming! You can see their helmets.... They are
+coming! They are in France!"
+
+The women fell on their knees. One of them moaned:
+
+"O God, have pity on us!"
+
+Marthe had joined Philippe at the terrace-door and they heard Captain
+Daspry repeating in a low voice, with an accent of despair:
+
+"Yes, they are in France ... they have crossed the frontier."
+
+"They are in France, Philippe," said Marthe, taking her husband's hand.
+
+And she felt his hand tremble.
+
+Drawing himself up quickly, the captain commanded:
+
+"Not a shot!... Let no one show himself!"
+
+The order flew from mouth to mouth and silence and immobility reigned in
+the Old Mill, from one end to the other of the house and grounds. Each
+one stood at his post. All along the wall, the soldiers kept themselves
+hidden, perched upright on their improvised talus.
+
+At that moment, one of the drawing-room doors opened and old Morestal
+appeared on his wife's arm. Dressed in a pair of trousers and a
+waistcoat, bare-headed, tangle-haired, with a handkerchief fastened
+round his neck, he staggered on his wavering legs. Nevertheless, a sort
+of gladness, like an inward smile, lighted his features.
+
+"Let me be," he said to his wife, who was endeavouring to support him.
+
+He steadied his gait and walked to the gun-rack, where the twelve rifles
+stood in a row.
+
+He took out one with feverish haste, felt it, with the touch of a
+sportsman recognizing his favourite weapon, passed in front of Philippe,
+without appearing to see him, and went out on the terrace.
+
+"You, M. Morestal!" said Captain Daspry.
+
+Pointing to the frontier, the old man asked:
+
+"Are they there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you making a resistance?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are there many of them?"
+
+"There are twenty to one."
+
+"If so ...?"
+
+"We've got to."
+
+"But ..."
+
+"We've got to, M. Morestal; and be easy, we shall stand our ground....
+I'm certain of it."
+
+Morestal said, in a low voice:
+
+"Remember what I told you, captain.... The road is undermined at two
+hundred yards from the terrace.... A match and ..."
+
+"Oh," protested the officer, "I hope it won't come to that! I am
+expecting relief."
+
+"Very well!" said Morestal. "But anything rather than let them come up
+to the Old Mill!"
+
+"They won't come up. It's out of the question that they should come up
+before the arrival of the French troops."
+
+"Good! As long as the Old Mill remains in our hands, they won't be able
+to man the heights and threaten Saint-Elophe."
+
+They could plainly see columns of infantry winding along the Col du
+Diable. There, they divided and one part of the men turned towards the
+Butte-aux-Loups, while the others--consisting of the greater number, for
+this was evidently the enemy's object--went down towards the Etang-des
+Moines, to seize the high-road.
+
+These disappeared for a moment, hidden by the bend of the ground.
+
+The captain said to Morestal:
+
+"Once the road is held and the assault begins, it will be impossible to
+get away.... It would be better, therefore, for the ladies ... and for
+you yourself ..."
+
+Morestal gave him such a look that the officer did not insist:
+
+"Come, come," he said, smiling, "don't be angry.... Rather help me to
+make these good people understand...."
+
+He turned to the servants, to Victor, who was taking down a rifle, to
+the gardener, to Henriot, and warned them that none but combatants must
+stay at the Old Mill, as any man captured with arms in his hands exposed
+himself to reprisals.
+
+They let him talk; and Victor, without thinking of retiring, answered:
+
+"That's as may be, captain. But it's one of the things one doesn't think
+about. I'm staying."
+
+"And you, Farmer Saboureux? You're running a big risk, if they prove
+that you set fire to your farm."
+
+"I'm staying," growled the peasant, laconically.
+
+"And you, tramp?"
+
+Old Poussiere had not finished eating the piece of bread which he had
+taken from his wallet. He was listening and observing, with eyes wide
+open and an evident effort to attend. He examined the captain, his
+uniform, the braid upon his sleeve, seemed to reflect on mysterious
+things, stood up and seized a rifle.
+
+"That's right, Poussiere," grinned Morestal. "You know your country
+right enough, once it needs defending."
+
+A man had made the same movement as the tramp, almost at the same time.
+One more division in the gun-rack was empty.
+
+It was Duvauchel, still rather unsteady on his pins, but wearing an
+undaunted look.
+
+"What, Duvauchel!" asked Captain Daspry. "Aren't we deserting?"
+
+"You're getting at me, captain! Let the beggars clear out of France
+first! I'll desert afterwards."
+
+"But you've only one arm that's any good."
+
+"A greaser's arm, captain ... and a French greaser's at that ... is
+worth two, any day."
+
+"Pass me one of them rifles," said the gardener's son. "I know my way
+about with 'em."
+
+Duvauchel began to laugh:
+
+"You too, sonnie? You want one? You'll see, the babes at the breast will
+be rising up next, like the others. Lord, but it makes my blood boil to
+think that they're in France!"
+
+All followed the captain, who allotted them a post along the parapet.
+The women busied themselves in placing ammunition within reach of the
+marksmen.
+
+Marthe was left alone with her husband. She saw that the scene had
+stirred him. In the way in which those decent folk realized their duty
+and performed it without being compelled to, simply and spontaneously,
+there was that sort of greatness which touches a man to the very depths
+of his soul.
+
+She said to him:
+
+"Well, Philippe?"
+
+His face was drawn; he did not reply.
+
+She continued:
+
+"Well, go.... What are you waiting for? No one will notice your
+flight.... Be quick.... Take the opportunity while it's here...."
+
+They heard the captain addressing his lieutenant:
+
+"Keep down your head, Fabregues, can't you? They'll see you, if you're
+not careful...."
+
+Marthe seized Philippe's arm and, bending towards him:
+
+"Now confess that you can't go ... that all this upsets your notions ...
+and that your duty is here ... that you feel it."
+
+"There they are! There they are!" said a voice.
+
+"Yes," said Captain Daspry, searching the road through the orifice of a
+loop-hole, "yes, there they are!... At six hundred yards, at most ...
+It's the vanguard.... They are skirting the pool and they haven't a
+notion that ..."
+
+A sergeant came to tell him that the enemy had hoisted a gun on the
+slope of the pass. The officer was alarmed, but old Morestal began to
+laugh:
+
+"Let them bring up as many guns as they please!... They can only take up
+positions which we command and which I have noted. A few good marksmen
+are enough to keep them from placing a battery."
+
+And, turning to his son, he said to him, quite naturally, as though
+nothing had ever parted them:
+
+"Are you coming, Philippe? We'll demolish them between us."
+
+Captain Daspry interfered:
+
+"Don't fire! We are not discovered yet. Wait till I give the order....
+There'll be time enough later...."
+
+Old Morestal had moved away.
+
+Philippe walked resolutely towards the gate that led to the garden, to
+the open country. But he had not taken ten steps, when he stopped. He
+seemed to be vaguely suffering; and Marthe, who had not left his side,
+Marthe, anxious, full of mingled hope and apprehension, watched every
+phase of the tragic struggle:
+
+"All the past is calling on you, Philippe; all the love for France that
+the past has bequeathed to you. Listen to its voice."
+
+And, replying to every possible objection:
+
+"Yes, I know, your intelligence rebels against it. But is one's
+intelligence everything?... Obey your instinct, Philippe.... It's your
+instinct that is right."
+
+"No, no," he stammered, "one's instinct is never right...."
+
+"It is right. But for that, you would be far away by now. But you can't
+go. Your whole being refuses to go. Your legs have not the strength for
+flight."
+
+The Col du Diable was pouring forth troops and more troops, whose
+swarming masses showed along the slope. Others must be coming by the
+Albern Road; and, on every side, along every path and through every gap,
+the men of Germany were invading the soil of France.
+
+The vanguard reached the high-road, at the end of the Etang-des-Moines.
+
+There was a dull roll of the drum; and, suddenly, in the near silence, a
+hoarse voice barked out a German word of command.
+
+Philippe started as though he had been struck.
+
+And Marthe clung to him, pitilessly:
+
+"Do you hear, Philippe? Do you understand? The German speech on French
+soil! Their language forced upon us!"
+
+"Oh, no!" he said. "That can't be.... That will never be!"
+
+"Why should it never be? Invasion comes first ... and then conquest ...
+and subjection...."
+
+Near them, the captain ordered:
+
+"Let no one stir!"
+
+Bullets spluttered against the walls, while the sounds of firing
+reverberated. A window-pane was smashed on the floor above. And more
+bullets broke fragments of stone from the coping of the parapet. The
+enemy, surprised at the disappearance of the French troops, were feeling
+their way before passing below that house, whose gloomy aspect must
+needs strike them as suspicious.
+
+"Ah!" said a soldier, spinning on his heels and falling on the threshold
+of the drawing-room, his face covered with blood.
+
+The women ran to his assistance.
+
+Philippe gazed haggard-eyed at that man who was about to die, at that
+man who belonged to the same race, who lived under the same sky as
+himself, who breathed the same air, ate the same bread and drank the
+same wine.
+
+Marthe had taken down a rifle and handed it to Philippe. He grasped it
+with a sort of despair:
+
+"Who would ever have told me ...?" he stammered.
+
+"I, Philippe ... I was sure of you. We have not to do with theories, but
+with implacable facts. These are realities, to-day.... The enemy is
+treading the bit of earth where you were born, where you played as a
+child. The enemy is forcing his way into France. Defend her,
+Philippe...."
+
+He clenched his fists around his rifle and she saw that his eyes were
+full of tears.
+
+He murmured, quivering with inward rebellion:
+
+"Our sons will refuse ... I shall teach them to refuse.... What I cannot
+do, what I have not the courage to do they shall do."
+
+"Perhaps, but what does the future matter!" she said, eagerly. "What
+does to-morrow's duty matter! Our duty, yours and mine, is the duty of
+to-day."
+
+A voice whispered:
+
+"They're coming near, captain.... They're coming near...."
+
+Another voice, beside Philippe, the voice of one of the women tending
+the wounded man, moaned:
+
+"He's dead.... Poor fellow!... He's dead...."
+
+The guns roared on the frontier.
+
+"Are you coming, Philippe?" asked old Morestal.
+
+"I'm coming, father," he said.
+
+Very quickly, he walked out on the terrace and knelt beside his father,
+against the balusters. Marthe knelt down behind him and wept at the
+thought of what he must be suffering. Nevertheless, she did not doubt
+but that, notwithstanding his despair, he was acting in all conscience.
+
+The captain said, clearly, and the order was repeated to the end of the
+garden:
+
+"Fire as you please.... Sight at three hundred yards...."
+
+There were a few seconds of solemn waiting ... then the terrible word:
+
+"Fire!"
+
+Yonder, along the barrel of his rifle, near an old oak in whose branches
+he once used to climb, Philippe saw a great lubber in uniform throw up
+his hands, bend his legs one after the other and stretch himself along
+the ground, slowly, as though to sleep....
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frontier, by Maurice LeBlanc
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