Henriette listened dumbfounded, unable to recover from her amazement. 'But, my dear,' she said at last, 'everybody thinks it is the Prussian captain who has succeeded in pleasing you.'

At this Gilberte sprang to her feet, and, wiping her eyes, broke out into protestations: 'The Prussian! Oh, dear no, indeed! He's frightful; he's hateful to me! What can people take me for? How can anyone think me capable of such infamy? No, no, never; I would rather die!'

Her feeling of revolt had rendered her quite grave, imparting a pained, irritated expression to her beauty which quite transfigured her. But all at once her coquettish gaiety, her thoughtless giddiness, came back with a laugh which she was unable to repress: 'Well, it's true I amuse myself with him. He adores me, you know, and I merely have to look at him to make him obey me. If you only knew how amusing it is to make game of that big fat fellow, who always seems to fancy that he is about to be rewarded for his attentions.'

'But it's a very dangerous game to play,' said Henriette, seriously.

'Do you think so? Why, what risk do I run? When it dawns upon him that I have merely been trifling with him, he will be unable to do anything beyond flying into a passion and taking himself off. And, besides, he will never realise it! You don't know the man, my dear; he's one of those creatures whom women can flirt with as far as they like without any fear of danger. I know it intuitively. He is far too vain; he will never admit that I have trifled with him. And all that he will get from me will be permission to carry off my souvenir, with the consolation of thinking that he has done the proper thing and behaved himself like a well-bred man who long resided in Paris.' She was getting quite gay again, and added: 'Meantime he will have father Fouchard set at liberty, and his only reward for doing so will be a cup of tea from my hands.'

All at once, however, her fears returned to her, and fresh tears gathered in her eyes. 'And the old lady; good heavens! What will happen? She is not at all fond of me, and she is capable of telling the whole story to my husband.'

Henriette had at last recovered her self-possession. Wiping Gilberte's eyes, she said; 'Listen, my dear, I haven't the strength to scold you, and yet you know how I blame such conduct. But people had frightened me so terribly about your Prussian, I feared such horrid things, that this flirtation with the young sergeant comes as a relief. Quiet yourself, everything may be set right.'

This was sensible advice, the more so as Delaherche almost immediately came in with his mother, and explained that, having made up his mind to take the train to Brussels that same evening, he had just sent for the vehicle which was to convey him across the Belgian frontier. He had therefore come to bid his wife good-bye. Then, turning towards Henriette, he added: 'You may be at rest. On leaving me just now, the captain promised me that he would attend to that matter of your uncle's, and whilst I am away my wife will do whatever may be necessary.'

Since Madame Delaherche senior had entered the room Gilberte, with her heart oppressed, had not taken her eyes off her. Did she mean to speak out and tell what she had seen and thus prevent her son from starting? On her side the old lady had fixed her eyes upon her daughter-in-law from the moment she had crossed the threshold. However, she remained silent, experiencing perhaps a relief akin to that which Henriette had felt. Since it was that young Frenchman who had fought so bravely, ought she not to forgive as she had already forgiven, in the case of Captain Beaudoin? Her eyes softened, and she averted her head. Her son might go; if need were, Edmond would protect Gilberte against the Prussian. And at this thought she even indulged in a faint smile, she whose stern features had not once relaxed since the good news of Coulmiers.[47]