"—La comtesse de Beaupré et Lysboisée."
He bowed.
"Le colonel Victor de Montévrault."
She held out a slender hand. Involuntarily, almost, he touched it with his lips as he took it in his own. She did not stir. He did not see her face.
"Au revoir, madame, et tous mes remerciments!"
"Au revoir, monsieur," she answered in her rich, deep voice.
He felt her eyes upon him as he turned to follow Marie, candle in hand, once more through the series of dark apartments.
A little later and the château and its precincts were thronged with the soldiers of the three war-worn battalions as they installed themselves for the night. From the great yard between the stables and the barns came the glow of cooking fires.
But not for all was the hour of rest arrived. In a little room of the château the colonel, with his three chefs de bataillon of whom one only was a major, was poring over a large-scale map and indicating the positions for the lines of sentries, outposts and grand'gardes. Up the opposite side of the ravine to that which they had ascended, well in advance across the high open ground, and down the valley road he posted them. On the three battalion commanders the greatest vigilance was enjoined. Ahead of them there should be French cavalry, but those were the days of flux and reflux in the meeting tides of war, and all things were possible.