Captain Fischer went downstairs, followed by Glotz. When they entered the room Von Wedel turned away from Chérie 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 Kapitän—ja, Herr Leutnant" at brief intervals, like a mechanical toy. Glotz was round-faced and solemn. He never once looked at Louise, Chérie, 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.
Chérie 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 Curé? What are they saying about him?"
At this point Von Wedel laughed again. "Der alte Esel!... Seine eigene Schuld...."