He said no more, but took me by both hands, and kissed me on the forehead.
“I trust I'm not doing wrong,” said my father gruffly. “I hope it's not a breach of orders.”
“I am sure it is not,” replied Monsieur Maurice, still holding my hands. “Were your instructions twice as strict, they could not be supposed to apply to this little maiden.”
“They are strict enough, Monsieur Maurice,” said my father, drily.
A faint flush rose to the prisoner's cheek.
“I know it,” he said. “And they are as unnecessary as they are strict. I had given you my parole, Colonel Bernhard.”
My father pulled at his moustache, and looked uncomfortable.
“I'm sure you would have kept it, Monsieur Maurice,” he said.
Monsieur Maurice bowed.
“I wish it, however, to be distinctly understood,” he said, “that I withdrew that parole from the moment when a sentry was stationed at my door.”