"We must trust to luck," said Paul, taking his seat at the wheel. "Are you ready to see the job through, boys?"
"Yes; and further," said a voice which he recognized, just behind him.
It was Bernard d'Andeville, Élisabeth's brother. Bernard belonged to the 9th company; and Paul had succeeded in avoiding him, since their first meeting, or at least in not speaking to him. But he knew that the youngster was fighting well.
"Ah, so you're there?" he said.
"In the flesh," said Bernard. "I came along with my lieutenant; and, when I saw you getting into the motor and taking any one who turned up, you can imagine how I jumped at the chance!" And he added, in a more embarrassed tone, "The chance of doing a good stroke of work, under your orders, and the chance of talking to you, Paul . . . for I've been unlucky so far. . . . I even thought that . . . that you were not as well-disposed to me as I hoped. . . ."
"Nonsense," said Paul. "Only I was bothered. . . ."
"You mean, about Élisabeth?"
"Yes."
"I see. All the same, that doesn't explain why there was something between us, a sort of constraint . . ."
At that moment, the Alsatian exclaimed: