"The new line to Switzerland? But that's an endless journey, sir! It goes all the way down to Belfort."
"Yes, that's it. How far is it from Saint-Élophe to Langoux?"
"Three miles and a bit."
"In that case, I shall walk," said Philippe. "Thank you."
He was in a hurry to leave the Old Mill, for he felt that events were hastening to a crisis and that, at any moment, he might be prevented from carrying out his plan.
As a matter of fact, when he turned back, he was passed by Henriot, the gardener's son, who was clapping his hands:
"There they are! The soldiers of the manœuvring company!... They are going to the Col du Diable, at the quick step. We shall see them from the terrace."
He was followed by the other servants, by his mother, by his little brother, who, like himself, was waving his hands; and they all crossed the drawing-room.
Philippe went to the edge of the terrace. The troops were already debouching in good order. They were young soldiers, beardless boys for the most part, and looked almost like children amusing themselves by marching in file. But he saw an unaccustomed expression of anxiety and doubt on their faces. They marched in silence, hanging their heads and as though bent by the fatigue of the recent manœuvres.
A word of command sounded in the rear and was repeated in a sharp voice by two non-commissioned officers. There was a momentary undulating movement. Then the column proceeded at the double down the slope that led to the Étang-des-Moines.