We ran out, and soon showed in Sainte-Brute, attended by two soldiers. Like a conqueror he walked up the steps and entered the dining-room. He showed his best graces, his small moustache was curled up, his cloak put on after the Spanish fashion, his cap roguishly set on one side. A paper in his hands, he made a show of his fingers—he had well-kept nails, I must acknowledge. Mme. Valaine, Geneviève, and I stood and waited. A night-light illumined the scene.
"It is six o'clock," the under-officer announced. "Everybody must be at home. I want to see all the inhabitants of this house."
Come along, then! Let him count us; set the family in a row; it is fair-day; the Germans are amusing themselves!
The girls came in reluctantly with fury-flashing eyes.
Sainte-Brute thought the light too weak; he pointed his electric lamp at us, and one after another scanned our hostile faces; then he declared:
"The 'population' say that you often go to Laon without passports."
"If the population say so, it is lying. In the last ten days we have been but once to Laon, and here is the passport you gave us yourself."
"Hum, hum, the population...."
Sainte-Brute seemed to hesitate. The Blackguard plucked him by the sleeve:
"Come, come...."