Françoise's heart turned to ice, for this was not the voice of a third person. It was Didier himself, seated beside her, who had spoken those cruel words.
She was on her feet.
"No consequence indeed!" she exclaimed. "Only my happiness is at stake! That matters little to you."
"Oh, Mademoiselle," protested the unhappy man, unable to say another word.
"Well, do you advise me to marry him—yes or no?"
"If he is an honest man—yes."
It was all over between them. In a tone in which there was a suggestion almost of enmity she said:
"Thank you, Monsieur d'Haumont. You are a real friend! Pray give me your arm and let's go back to the house."
* * * * *
The man near the garden gate whom Captain d'Haumont had failed to notice resumed his journey, keeping near the wall. He was pushing his bicycle before him. Without haste he overtook the peddler's cart which was continuing its way at the walking pace of the old horse harnessed to it. A hundred yards farther on they came to a small door in the wall. The man signalled the peddler to stop, exchanged a few words with him in German, mounted his bicycle, and went off quickly into the country.