"What if we placed our ears to the ground?"
And so we lay on the grass like so many dead bodies, and concentrated our whole souls in listening.
"There certainly is a rambling." This conviction filled our hearts with joy and anxiety, and the whole day long we fidgeted about the house. Besides, we could not stay for ever in Chevregny. We had to make up our minds.
"Since the Germans are here, there, and everywhere," I said, "we had better go back home, where at least we are comfortable and at ease."
In Chevregny, to be sure, comfort is unknown. For instance, cleanliness does not hold a large place in the people's life, though we had transformed the bakehouse into a very decent bathroom. Every evening Pierrot was washed at the pump, and pretended to throw the water which deluged him to the bright and passionless moon.
As long as the weather kept warm it was pleasant enough, but all the same home would be better. But before taking so long a journey, we thought it well to think over it at leisure. A word from M. Lonet settled the matter. "There is no danger," he wrote; "some one ought to come back; the house might be occupied."
If one of us went, then we would all go. Union is strength. Boldly we had come to Chevregny by night, nine in number, including the dogs. Nine in number we would go home by day. We had spent a week in Chevregny.
On Tuesday we had Gentil put to. Liza huddled our luggage into the cart, helped Mme. Valaine and Pierrot up, and sat on the box. In a few feeling words, one and all took leave of our kind cousin, and we followed on foot.
We walked on without hardihood, casting suspicious glances before and behind. The mere shadow of a helmet would have put us to flight. Besides, the horse might be requisitioned, and Liza left us at Bièvres, and drove home as fast as she could. In Bruyères we met with a big dog almost as alarming as a Prussian. Percinet is fond of fighting, and he cannot bear the sight of his kindred alive. Two days before he had satisfied this thirst for blood by killing two dogs. At the entrance of Morny we passed three riders on the road, dressed in green, booted and spurred, with their helmets on. We did not think them mere gendarmes, as we heard afterwards they were. They contented themselves with gazing at the dusty, weary group that went by. At length we got home. Dear little house! it had not altered! Its white walls were still there; so was its grey roof. The Virginia creepers shook their branches like arms to wish us a hearty welcome. We threw the gate open. The dogs rushed into the stable at a cheerful bound.
Leaving the luggage in the lobby, we dropped into the dining-room chairs, and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.