Her father smiled.
“So he will-delighted.”
“Here's some soup for you,” said his daughter. “Eat it quick, and then be off.”
The old keeper sat down at the table, and began to eat his soup, having first filled two plates and put them on the floor for the dogs.
The Prussians, hearing voices, were silent.
Long-legs set off a quarter of an hour later, and Berthine, with her head between her hands, waited.
The prisoners began to make themselves heard again. They shouted, called, and beat furiously with the butts of their muskets against the rigid trap-door of the cellar.
Then they fired shots through the vent-hole, hoping, no doubt, to be heard by any German detachment which chanced to be passing that way.
The forester's daughter did not stir, but the noise irritated and unnerved her. Blind anger rose in her heart against the prisoners; she would have been only too glad to kill them all, and so silence them.
Then, as her impatience grew, she watched the clock, counting the minutes as they passed.