“A priest's life,” he said, “or an old woman's. It is the same thing.”
And Lory was left alone with mademoiselle and Denise. The window was still open, and from the port the sound of the military music reached their ears faintly. Mademoiselle rose, and went to the window, where she stood looking out. Her eyes were dim as she looked across the sordid street, but her lips were firm, and the hands that rested on the window-sill quite steady. She had played consistently a strong and careful game. Was she going to win or lose? She held that, next to being a soldier, it is good to be a soldier's wife and the mother of fighting men. And when she thought of the Rue du Cherche-Midi, she was not able to be amused, as the notary had said of Denise.
There was a short silence in the notary's office. De Vasselot was fingering the hilt of his long cavalry sword reflectively. After a moment he glanced across at Denise. He was placed as it were between her and the sword. And it was to the sword that he gave his allegiance.
“You see,” he said, in a low voice, “I must go.”
“Yes, you must go,” she answered. She held her lip for a moment between her teeth. Then she looked steadily at him. “Go!” she said.
He rose from his chair and looked towards Mademoiselle Bran's back. At the rattle of his scabbard against the chair, mademoiselle turned.
“There is a horse waiting in the street below,” she said—“the great horse that Colonel Gilbert rides. It is waiting for you, I suppose.”
“I suppose so,” said Lory, who went to the window and looked curiously down. Gilbert was certainly an odd man. He had left in anger, and had left his horse for Lory to ride. He waited a moment, and then held out his hand to Mademoiselle Brun. All three seemed to move and speak under a sort of oppression. It was one of those moments that impress themselves indelibly on the memory—a moment when words are suddenly useless—when the memory of an attitude and of a silence remains all through life.
“Good-bye, mademoiselle,” said Lory, with a sudden cheerfulness; “we shall meet in France next time.”
Mademoiselle Brun held out her shrinking little hand.