"I didn't see the man of the house."
"Oh, yes you did. Frau Krochburg or Madame Crocheville, if you wish secretly to call her so, is very much the man of the house. There is a Herr Krochburg, but he won't come in our way now. Madame will do everything for us at present. I've touched a spark of fire to her soul, and it has blazed up. Those Huguenots of long ago were really republicans, and it's republican France now, for the success of which she prays with every breath she draws."
"She's locked us in pretty securely. I heard that big German key turn."
"To keep others from getting at us. Not to keep us from getting out. Now, I hear it turning again, and I'll wager that she's coming back with something that will rejoice us to the core."
The door opened and Madame Crocheville walked into the room, bearing a large tray which she placed upon a chair until she could close and lock the door again. Then she bore it to the table and John looked at it with great longing. He was young, he was healthy and he had a digestion beyond criticism.
"I told you so," exclaimed Lannes triumphantly, "and look, Madame Crocheville has brought us her best—a bottle of the light, white wine made in this very district, and good! You can dismiss your American scruples—it's very mild—filet of beef, tender, too, baked potatoes, salad, bread and butter and cheese. It is truly fit for a king. Madame Crocheville, two young and starving souls, thank you."
A smile lighted up her stern, almost masculine features. Then her face, in truth, looked feminine and tender.
"You're wild and reckless, but you're a good boy, Philip Lannes," she said, "and I know that you'd willingly lay down your life for the France that I've never seen, but which I love. You say again that the great war is at hand."
"It has come. In a few days four hundred million people will be in it, and I know that France will come out of it with all her ancient glory and estate."
"I hope and pray so," she said fervently, and then she left them.