"My brother-in-law left the ball before supper," replied Judith.
"0 God!" The hand left Judith's wrist and gripped the banister-rail. "He is in Brussels? Yes, yes, he is still in Brussels! Tell me, confound you, tell me!"
There was a white agony in her face, but Judith was unmoved by it. She said: "He is not in Brussels, nor will he return. I wish you goodnight, Lady Barbara."
She passed on down the stairs to where Worth stood waiting for her. Their carriage was at the door; in another minute they had entered it, and were being driven out of the gates in the direction of the centre of the town.
Judith leaned back in her corner, trying to compose her spirits. Worth took her hand presently, and held it lightly in his own. "What is it, my dear?"
"That woman!" she said in a low voice. "Barbara Childe! She dared to ask me where Charles had gone. I could have struck her in the face for her effrontery! She let Charles go like that - unhappy, all his old gaiety quite vanished!" She found that tears were running down her face, and broke off to wipe them away. "Don't let us speak of it! I am tired, and stupid. I shall be better directly."
He was silent, but continued to hold her hand. After a minute or two she said in a calmer tone: "That noise. It seems to thud in my brain. What is it?"
"The drums beating to war," he replied. "The Reserve is being put into motion at once."
She shuddered. As the carriage drew nearer to the Park, the coachman was obliged to curb his horses to a walk, and sometimes bring them to a complete standstill. There was scarcely a house in Brussels where soldiers were not billeted; the sound of the trumpet and the drums brought them out, knapsacks slung over their shoulders, coats unbuttoned, and shakos crammed on askew. Some had wives running beside them; others had their arms round Belgian sweethearts; one Highlander was carrying a little boy on his shoulder while the child's parents, who had been his hosts walked beside with his knapsack and his musket.
In the great Place Royale a scene of indescribable confusion resigned. The sky was already paling towards dawn, and in the ghostly grey light men, horses. wagons, gun-carriages seemed to be inextricably mixed. Wagons were being loaded, and commissariat trains harnessed; the air was full of a medley of noises: the stamp of hooves on the cobbles, the rumble of wheels, the jingle of harness, the sudden neigh of a horse and the indistinguishable chatter of many voices. An officer called sharply; someone was whistling a popular air; a mounted man rode past; a Colour waved. Soldiers were sitting on the pavement, some sleeping on packs of straw, others checking the contents of their knapsacks.