"What can I tell you, sir, by way of news? You know that your friend the Comtesse Hermine is dead, I suppose? Ha, ha, that makes you prick up your ears, I see! It's quite true: that good and great woman was executed the other day at Soissons. And, upon my word, she cut just as poor a figure as you are doing now, sir. They had to hold her up. And the way she yelled and screamed for mercy! There was no pose about her, no dignity. But I can see that your thoughts are straying. Bother! What can I do to cheer you up? Ah, I have an idea! . . ."
He took a little paper-bound book from his pocket:
"Look here, sir, I'll read to you. Of course, a Bible would be more appropriate; only I haven't one on me. And the great thing, after all, is to help you to forget; and I know nothing better for a German who prides himself on his country and his army than this little book. We'll dip into it together, shall we? It's called German Crimes as Related by German Eye-witnesses. It consists of extracts from the diaries of your fellow-countrymen. It is therefore one of those irrefutable documents which earn the respect of German science. I'll open it at random. Here goes. 'The inhabitants fled from the village. It was a horrible sight. All the houses were plastered with blood; and the faces of the dead were hideous to see. We buried them all at once; there were sixty of them, including a number of old women, some old men, a woman about to become a mother, and three children who had pressed themselves against one another and who died like that. All the survivors were turned out; and I saw four little boys carrying on two sticks a cradle with a child of five or six months in it. The whole village was sacked. And I also saw a mother with two babies and one of them had a great wound in the head and had lost an eye.'"
Bernard stopped to address the prince:
"Interesting reading, is it not, sir?"
And he went on:
"'26 August. The charming village of Gué d'Hossus, in the Ardennes, has been burnt to the ground, though quite innocent, as it seems to me. They tell me that a cyclist fell from his machine and that the fall made his rifle go off of its own accord, so they fired in his direction. After that, they simply threw the male inhabitants into the flames.' Here's another bit: '25 August.' This was in Belgium. 'We have shot three hundred of the inhabitants of the town. Those who survived the volleys were told off to bury the rest. You should have seen the women's faces!'"
And the reading continued, interrupted by judicious reflections which Bernard emitted in a placid voice, as though he were commenting on an historical work. Prince Conrad, meanwhile, seemed on the verge of fainting.
When Paul arrived at the Château d'Ornequin and, alighting from his car, went to the terrace, the sight of the prince and the careful stage-setting with the twelve soldiers told him of the rather uncanny little comedy which Bernard was playing. He uttered a reproachful protest:
"I say! Bernard!"