"British sense of proportion," he replied, and as he spoke a man on skis approached from the street below and called on him by name.
"Orders from the General, Excellency!"
Saunders took the note. It was a hurried scrawl in Meyer's handwriting:
"Proceed instantly on receipt of this to the Marienkastel. Hang on till they get within a hundred yards, then bolt for the abatis in the new cemetery!" Saunders read it aloud, and then turned to his wife.
"Farewell, dearest," he said simply. "When I have gone make your way to the Pariserhof. You will be perfectly safe there."
Mrs. Saunders hung speechless a moment in her husband's embrace. When she spoke it was apologetically, as one demanding a difficult favour.
"Robert," she pleaded, "should I be a great nuisance in the Marienkastel? I could tend the wounded—I might even——"
"To-day is a day of obedience and discipline," he interrupted with firm kindness. "I am ordered to the Marienkastel, you to the Pariserhof. Yours is the post of anxiety, mine of excitement. Man is selfish and woman patient—and so the latter always has to bear the crueller burden."
She bit her lip and nodded, and released herself from his embrace. Strong arms handed him his rifle, and cool, steady hands fastened the cartridge-belt around his waist.
"You know Karl entreated you not to take part in this stupid war," she said with the suspicion of a break in her voice. "Was it kind to me to refuse him?"