"Look alive, smith," cried that officer, in the domineering tone evidently habitual with him. "Are the shoes in good order?"
The smith turned up the hoofs one after another, and pronounced them perfectly shod.
"Very well; if any of the troopers' horses need shoeing, see that it is done promptly, or it will be the worse for you. Now for the château, gentlemen; monsieur le marquis will be delighted to entertain us."
There was a look upon his face that Burton could not fathom--an ugly smile that made him shiver. The horsemen rode away, and Boitelet, the smith, spat upon the ground.
II
"Come inside, monsieur," murmured the smith, glancing round to see that no German was within hearing. Then he threw up his hands and groaned.
"He is an insolent hound," said Burton, sympathetically.
"Ah, monsieur, it is not that; all these Prussians are brutes. I fear for monsieur le marquis."
"Who is the marquis? He has a soldierly look."
"He was a fine soldier, monsieur. Every Frenchman knows his name. In the army he was plain General du Breuil; here in his own country, where we love him, we give him his true title, that has come to him from the days of long ago. Ah! there is great trouble for him. I know that man."