"What is it?" she asked.
"The German army is advancing."
"Yes—but the cheering?"
"I don't know."
Side by side, they peered out above the grain. A heavy motor-car was advancing rapidly from the east along the road, the troops drawing aside to let it pass, and cheering—cheering, as though mad.
Inside the car were three men, but the one who acknowledged the salutes of the officers as he passed was a tall, slender young fellow in a long, gray coat. His face was radiant, and he saluted and saluted, and once or twice rose to his feet and pointed westward.
"The Crown Prince!" said the girl, and watched in heavy silence until the motor passed from sight and the host took up its steady march again. "Ah, well, he at least has realized his ambition—to lead an army against France!"
"It seems to be a devoted army," Stewart remarked. "I never heard such cheering."
"It is a splendid army," and the girl swept her eyes back and forth over the marching host.
"France will have no easy task—but she is fighting for her life, and she will win!"