The Château d'Ornequin, or rather what remained of it—for even the ruins of the château had been subjected to a fresh bombardment in November—was serving as a cantonment for territorial troops, whose first line of trenches skirted the frontier. There was not much fighting on this side, because, for tactical reasons, it was not to the enemy's advantage to push too far forward. The defenses were of equal strength; and a very active watch was kept on either side.
These were the particulars which Paul obtained from the territorial lieutenant with whom he lunched.
"My dear fellow," concluded the officer, after Paul had told him the object of his journey, "I am altogether at your service; but, if it's a question of getting from Ornequin to Èbrecourt, you can make up your mind that you won't do it."
"I shall do it all right."
"It'll have to be through the air then," said the officer, with a laugh.
"No."
"Or underground."
"Perhaps."
"There you're wrong. We wanted ourselves to do some sapping and mining. It was no use. We're on a deposit of rock in which it's impossible to dig."
It was Paul's turn to smile: