It was only when the men had gone that Madame la Marquise bethought herself of her niece, and of the latter's strange attitude while the council of war had been going on; whereupon she frowned and then remarked testily:
"Of a truth, Fernande, I do not understand you. Here you have been sitting like a stuffed dummy, the while the destinies of France were being talked of by men who are sacrificing their lives for her. Where is your enthusiasm of a year ago, my child? Where is your patriotism? And what, in Heaven's name, hath come over you these past few days?"
"Nothing, ma tante," replied Fernande with a little sigh of impatience; "only a foreboding, I think."
"A foreboding?" queried Madame. "What about?"
"I don't know. But it seems to me that you are all so confident ... so sure of success...."
"Well, are not you?"
"I think that M. de Puisaye—that you all, in fact, are not taking one vastly important factor into your reckoning."
"What do you mean, Fernande? What factor are you alluding to?"
"To M. le Comte Ronnay de Maurel, of course," replied Fernande.
"Well," queried Madame tartly, "what about him?"