“No; with most of them, the detention is a mere matter of obeying orders—one can tell their nationality at a glance. But to look at you, madame, I should never have supposed you to be an American—I should have supposed you to be French.”
“My grandmother was French,” explained the girl, composedly, “and I am said to resemble her very closely. I must also warn you that my sympathies are French.”
The officer shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
“That is a great misfortune. Perhaps when you see how our army fights, we may claim some of your sympathy—or, at least, your admiration.”
“It will fight well, then?”
“It will fight so well—it will prove so irresistible—that our General Staff has been able to prepare in advance the schedule for the entire campaign. This is the first of August. On the fifth we shall capture Lille, on the ninth we shall cross the Marne, and on the eleventh we shall enter Paris. On the evening of the twelfth, the Emperor will dine the General Staff at the Ritz.”
Stewart stared in astonishment, not knowing whether to laugh or to be impressed. But there was no shadow of a smile on the bearded face of the speaker.
“You are not in earnest!” Stewart protested.
“Thoroughly in earnest. We know where we shall be at every hour of every day. There are at present living in France many Germans who are reservists in our army. Not one of these has been required to return to Germany. On the contrary, each of them has been instructed to report at a point near his place of residence at a certain hour of a certain day, where he will find his regiment awaiting him. For example, all German reservists living at Lille, or in the neighborhood, will report at noon of Wednesday next in the Place de la République in front of the prefecture, where the German administration will have been installed during the morning.”
Stewart opened his lips to say something, but no words came. He felt intimidated and overborne.