"A soldier----" He hesitated, looking down at his tattered sleeve. And then more deliberately as his gaze sought her face, "Mademoiselle is not a German. No German speaks French as you do."
"And what?"
"Merely that I am an escaped prisoner of Germany on my way to Switzerland," he smiled. "You see, I am frank with you. Something tells me that you're friendly."
"Switzerland!" she said. "Did you not know that you were already fifteen kilometers within the Swiss border?"
"Switzerland? Here?" The mingled expression of bewilderment and surprise upon his dirty face was comical.
"Switzerland!" he gasped again.
"You must have passed the frontier in the night," added the girl. "You're quite safe now, I should say."
"Sacred name of a pipe!" he grinned. And then, with an air of apology, "Pardon, Mademoiselle. If I'd known that I'd passed the border, I shouldn't have intruded. But I was hungry, thirsty, too, and I thought that I might find meat, drink, a place to sleep in peace."
He paused, waiting for the girl to speak, but she said nothing and only stood frowning toward the lights at the other side of the garden.
"Of course, Mademoiselle, since I'm now safe from pursuit, if you wish it, I can retire by the way I came." He shrugged and turned half away when the sound of her voice halted him.