"Tell me," said Loulou, "did the master say anything to you when you saw him to the train the other night?"
"Yes, madam," said Fritz.
"What—what did he say?" asked Loulou very anxiously.
Fritz waited a long time before he answered. "The master said"—and he smiled that horrible smile again,—"the master said I was to protect you in case those dogs came here. That's what he said—those dogs! Those dogs—" he repeated, glaring at Loulou and at me until we felt quite strange and sick.
Little Mireille had just come into the room, and she asked somewhat anxiously, "What dogs are you talking about?"
Fritz wheeled round on her with a savage look. "German dogs," said he. "And they bite."
Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Loulou sighed. "Who would have conceived it possible a month ago!" she murmured. "Why, even ten days ago, no one dreamed of war."
Fritz took a step forward. "Some of us have been dreaming of war," he said—and there was something in his tone that made Loulou look up at him with startled eyes,—"dreaming of war, not for the past ten days, but for the past ten years." He rolled his eyes at us; then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Loulou has written a long letter to Claude. But will it reach him?