The girl flushed and paled and trembled. "What a shy dove!" he said, bending over her. "What is your name?"

"Cherie," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"What? _'Cherie'?_" he laughed. "Did you say that to me? The same to you, Herzchen!" He sat down on a corner of the table quite close to her.

"Now tell me what you are afraid of. And whom you are afraid of.... Is it of Captain Fischer? Or of me? Or of the soldiers?"

"Of everybody," stammered Cherie.

"Why, we are such good people," he said, blowing the cigarette-smoke in a long whiff before him, then throwing the cigarette on the carpet and stamping it out with his foot. "We would not hurt a cat--nor a dog," he added, catching sight of Amour, who came hopping down the stairs limping and yelping, "let alone such an adorable little angel as you."

The dog came whining piteously and crouched at Cherie's feet; she bent down and lifted him up in her arms. He was evidently hurt. Von Wedel said "Good dog!" and attempted to pat him, but Amour gave a long, low growl and the officer quickly withdrew his hand.

Louise reappeared bringing boxes of cigars and cigarettes, which she placed on the table. Mireille, who followed her, caught sight of Amour in Cherie's arms and heard him whine.

"What have you done to him?" she said, turning fiercely on Von Wedel.

He laughed. "Well, well, what a little vixen!" he said. Then he added, "You can take the dog away. I don't like dogs." Cherie moved at once towards the staircase, but he stopped her again. "No, no; give the dog to the vixen. You stay here."

Cherie obeyed, shrinking away from him to Louise's side, while Mireille ran upstairs with Amour and took him to Cherie's room. She kissed him on his rough black head and patted his poor paws and put him down on a cushion in a corner. Then she ran down again to see what was going on.

Amour left alone whined and howled in hideous long-drawn tones of indignation and suffering. When a few minutes later Captain Fischer, followed by Lieutenant Glotz and the two soldiers on his round of inspection, came downstairs, he stopped on the landing.

"What is that noise? Who is crying?" he asked.

"The dog, sir," said Glotz, "whom you kicked downstairs before."

"Hideous sound!" said Captain Fischer; "stop it."

And one of the soldiers went in and stopped it.

Captain Fischer went downstairs, followed by Glotz. When they entered the room Von Wedel turned away from Cherie and stood at attention.

Outside the boom of the cannon had ceased, but there were loud bursts of firing in the distance, sudden volleys which ceased as abruptly as they began. The three officers seemed to pay no heed to these sounds; they stood speaking together, the captain issuing brief orders, Von Wedel asking a question or two, and Glotz saying "_Ja, Herr Kapitan--ja, Herr Leutnant_" at brief intervals, like a mechanical toy. Glotz was round-faced and solemn. He never once looked at Louise, Cherie, or Mireille, who stood in a corner of the room watching the men with anxious eyes.

"What are they saying?" asked Louise in an undertone.

Cherie listened. So far as she could understand they were making arrangements as to where they should sleep.

"Eight men are to stay here," she translated in a whisper, "four in the attics and four downstairs. They themselves are going somewhere else--wait! They are talking of the Cheval Blanc--wait ... wait ...

they are saying"--and her eyes dilated--"that they can't go there because the inn is burning...."

At this point Von Wedel gave a loud laugh and Fischer smiled. Only Glotz's chubby countenance remained solemn, like the face of an anxious baby.

"What are they saying now?" asked Louise.

Mireille whispered, "They are talking about the _Pfarrer_--that means the priest."

"About Monsieur le Cure? What are they saying about him?"

At this point Von Wedel laughed again. "_Der alte Esel!... Seine eigene Schuld...._"

"What is that? what is that?" asked Louise.

"The old donkey ... his own fault," translated Mireille.

"And now what?" The captain was bending down and looking at his boots.

Cherie interpreted. "He says he will be glad to get the mud and blood off his feet...."

"Mud and blood?" echoed Louise in a horrified whisper. "Surely not."

Mireille nodded. "_Koth und Blut_--that is what he said."

A wave of sickness came over Louise; she felt the ground heave under her.

Now Von Wedel was helping the captain to take off his tunic, drawing the left sleeve down with great precaution.

"He says he is wounded," whispered Mireille.

"But he says it is nothing; that his arm is only grazed," supplemented Cherie.

The coat was off and Captain Fischer was carefully turning up his shirt-sleeve. Yes; the forearm was grazed and bleeding.

The captain examined it very carefully, and so did Von Wedel, bending over it and shaking his head with an air of great concern. The captain looked across at Louise and beckoned to her with his finger.

"Come here, _Gnadige_, please;" and as she approached him he said, "Your husband is a doctor, is he not? Then you will have some antiseptic in the house. Lysoform? Sublimate? Have you?" Louise nodded a.s.sent. "Bring me some," he said. "And a little boiled water if you have it."

Louise turned without a word and left the room.

"She is very stupid," said Von Wedel looking after her.

"She is very pretty," said the captain.

Louise pa.s.sed the soldiers who stood in the hall talking together in low voices. She went down the stairs feeling dizzy and bewildered. Would these men stay in the house all night? Would they sleep and eat here?

Would they order her about, and ogle Cherie, and bully little Mireille?

How long would they stay, she wondered. A week? a month?... She entered her husband's surgery and turned on the light. The sight of his room, of his chair, of his book, open on the desk as he had left it, seemed to wring her heart in a vice of pain. "Claude! Claude!" she sobbed. "Come back! Come back and take care of us!"

But Claude was far away.

She found the little blue phial of pastilles of corrosive sublimate; she poured some distilled water into a small basin and found cotton and a packet of lint for a bandage. Then she went upstairs again, past the soldiers in grey, and entered the sitting-room. It was empty.

Where had they all gone to? Where had they taken Cherie and Mireille?

She stumbled blindly up the short flight of stairs leading to the drawing-room. There she heard their voices, and went in.

Captain Fischer was reclining on the sofa, still in his shirt-sleeves, with his boots off. Von Wedel and Glotz were at the flower-adorned supper-table prepared for Cherie's birthday party, and were eating sandwiches in large mouthfuls. Their grey helmets were on the piano; their belts on a chair. Cherie stood cowering in a corner near the door.

"Where is Mireille?" cried Louise; and Cherie replied, "She is all right. He"--indicating the captain on the sofa--"has sent her to fetch him some slippers." Her lips quivered. "I wanted to go with her but they would not let me."

"I feel as if we were in a dream," murmured Louise.