At any moment now! She glanced for the barbarian's weapon, her heart praying for his safety. Out there beyond the shuttered windows he was coming in might at the head of his men. She seemed to see him—running towards her, past the Cupid-crowned fountain. She exulted in the crass absence of suspicion in the hatefully calm enemy at her side.
Out there in the twilight the precincts of the château were being lined with grey-clad soldiers, settling themselves in hidden firing positions. The officer saw them, with experienced second-sight. He smiled, blandly. His prisoner loitered, desperately prolonging his happy preoccupation.
When they returned to the salon it was to find another German officer waiting. Unseen by her, they exchanged a significant look.
There was a sharp, hissing, ugly rush in the air and a loud crash in the courtyard.
By a fortunate chance the colonel was near when the panting Marie scrambled over the parapet to the accompaniment of a dozen rifle bullets. On the point of collapse, the old woman sank into his arms, stammered confused unintelligible words, gave him the scrap of paper. Consigning her to the care of an orderly, he read the message, then raised his head, his fingers crushing the paper. He stood motionless, in intense thought. Slowly his eyes turned, fell upon the old woman shaking more with fright from the narrowly escaped bullets than from her exertions. Then his gaze lifted, fixed itself with frowning concentration upon the clay wall of the trench. He saw only with an inner vision. Around him no one spoke. His jaw set hard.
He raised himself upon the fire-step, gazed over the parapet through his glasses. The opposing lip of the ravine, bare of undergrowth a few yards from the top, lay silent, seemingly deserted. He called up an officer, handed him his glasses, indicated a point, ordered an unceasing watch upon it. Then he sent orderlies for his chefs-de-bataillon and the artillery observation officer in all haste.
They came. The battalion commanders received definite instructions and departed. The artillery officer remained with him. The ancient Marie sat upon the fire-step of the trench, trembling but recovering. She watched the saviour of her mistress with fascinated eyes.
The trench began to fill with soldiers. They crouched in their firing positions, their heads kept carefully below the parapet. Here and there little groups were busy about the machine-guns, fitted the long comb-like strips of cartridges, huddled ready to hoist the weapon into action. The watching officer called, without moving his head.