"You know something, Bernard, or you wouldn't be laughing! Can't you speak? How do you account for the bullets in the wall of the lodge? And the iron chain? And that third ring?"

"Just so. There were too many stage properties. When an execution takes place, does one see marks of bullets like that? And did you ever find elisabeth's body? How do you know that they did not take pity on her after shooting Jerome and his wife? Or who can tell? Some one may have interfered. . . ."

Paul felt some little hope steal over him. elisabeth, after being condemned to death by Major Hermann, had perhaps been saved by Prince Conrad, returning from Corvigny before the execution.

He stammered:

"Perhaps . . . yes . . . perhaps. . . . And then there's this: Major Hermann knew of our presence at Corvigny--remember your meeting with that peasant woman--and wanted elisabeth at any rate to be dead for us, so that we might give up looking for her. I expect Major Hermann arranged those properties, as you call them. How can I tell? Have I any right to hope?"

Bernard came closer to him and said, solemnly:

"It's not hope, Paul, that I'm bringing you, but a certainty. I wanted to prepare you for it. And now listen. My reason for asking those questions of the artillery adjutant was that I might check facts which I already knew. Yes, when I was at Ornequin village just now, a convoy of German prisoners arrived from the frontier. I was able to exchange a few words with one of them who had formed part of the garrison of the chateau. He had seen things, therefore. He knew. Well, elisabeth was not shot. Prince Conrad prevented the execution."

"What's that? What's that?" cried Paul, overcome with joy. "You're quite sure? She's alive?"

"Yes, alive. . . . They've taken her to Germany."

"But since then? For, after all, Major Hermann may have caught up with her and succeeded in his designs."

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Through that prisoner. The French lady whom he had seen here he saw this morning."

"Where?"

"Not far from the frontier, in a village just outside ebrecourt, under the protection of the man who saved her and who is certainly capable of defending her against Major Hermann."

"What's that?" repeated Paul, but in a dull voice this time and with a face distorted with anger.

"Prince Conrad, who seems to take his soldiering in a very amateurish spirit--he is looked upon as an idiot, you know, even in his own family--has made ebrecourt his headquarters and calls on elisabeth every day. There is no fear, therefore. . . ." But Bernard interrupted himself, and asked in amazement, "Why, what's the matter? You're gray in the face."

Paul took his brother-in-law by the shoulders and shouted:

"elisabeth is lost. Prince Conrad has fallen in love with her--we heard that before, you know; and her diary is one long cry of distress--he has fallen in love with her and he never lets go his prey. Do you understand? He will stop at nothing!"

"Oh, Paul, I can't believe. . . ."

"At nothing, I tell you. He is not only an idiot, but a scoundrel and a blackguard. When you read the diary you will understand. . . . But enough of words, Bernard. What we have to do is to act and to act at once, without even taking time to reflect."

"What do you propose?"

"To s.n.a.t.c.h elisabeth from that man's clutches, to deliver her."

"Impossible."

"Impossible? We are not eight miles from the place where my wife is a prisoner, exposed to that rascal's insults, and you think that I am going to stay here with my arms folded? Nonsense! We must show that we have blood in our veins! To work, Bernard! And if you hesitate I shall go alone."

"You will go alone? Where?"

"To ebrecourt. I don't want any one with me. I need no a.s.sistance. A German uniform will be enough. I shall cross the frontier in the dark. I shall kill the enemies who have to be killed and to-morrow morning elisabeth shall be here, free."

Bernard shook his head and said, gently:

"My poor Paul!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I should have been the first to agree and that we should have rushed to elisabeth's rescue together, without counting the risk.

Unfortunately. . . ."

"What?"

"Well, it's this, Paul: there is no intention on our side of taking a more vigorous offensive. They've sent for reserve and territorial regiments; and we are leaving."

"Leaving?" stammered Paul, in dismay.

"Yes, this evening. Our division is to start from Corvigny this evening and go I don't know where . . . to Rheims, perhaps, or Arras. North and west, in short. So you see, my poor chap, your plan can't be realized.

Come, buck up. And don't look so distressed. It breaks my heart to see you. After all, elisabeth isn't in danger. She will know how to defend herself. . . ."

Paul did not answer. He remembered Prince Conrad's abominable words, quoted by elisabeth in her diary:

"It is war. It is the law, the law of war."

He felt the tremendous weight of that law bearing upon him, but he felt at the same time that he was obeying it in its n.o.blest and loftiest phase, the sacrifice of the individual to everything demanded by the safety of the nation.

The law of war? No, the duty of war; and a duty so imperious that a man does not discuss it and that, implacable though it be, he must not even allow the merest quiver of a complaint to stir in his secret soul.

Whether elisabeth was faced by death or by dishonor did not concern Sergeant Paul Delroze and could not make him turn for a second from the path which he was ordered to follow. He was a soldier first and a man afterwards. He owed no duty save to France, his sorely-stricken and beloved country.

He carefully folded up elisabeth's diary and went out, followed by his brother-in-law.

At nightfall he left the Chateau d'Ornequin.

CHAPTER XI

"YSERY, MISERY"

Toul, Bar-le-Duc, Vitry-le-Francois. . . . The little towns sped past as the long train carried Paul and Bernard westwards into France. Other, numberless trains came before or after theirs, laden with troops and munitions of war. They reached the outskirts of Paris and turned north, pa.s.sing through Beauvais, Amiens and Arras.

It was necessary that they should arrive there first, on the frontier, to join the heroic Belgians and to join them as high up as possible.

Every mile of ground covered was so much territory s.n.a.t.c.hed from the invader during the long immobilized war that was in preparation.

Second Lieutenant Paul Delroze--he had received his new rank in the course of the railway journey--accomplished the northward march as it were in a dream, fighting every day, risking his life every minute, leading his men with irresistible dash, but all as though he were doing it without his own cognizance, in obedience to the automatic operation of a predetermined will.