"Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he ought.... It may be the morphia.... You had better telephone."
She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air:
"What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize ..."
And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round:
"Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize.... The master's quite well again.... Well, then, they should make up their minds!..."
"Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant. "Suppose the enemy invade us?"
They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window.
An old woman entered, an old woman who was employed at the Old Mill as a charwoman. She waved her arms about:
"Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest, who is with his regiment?... And the other, who is in the reserve?... Is it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!"
"Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene. "You'll soon see if it's nonsense!... They'll all have to go ... my husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans."