All listened for a moment and heard a dull heavy sound, as of the thunder of hoofs muted by the wet of the road, without. Some trooper was galloping towards Reichshofen, and galloping as though for his life. When he came up to the châlet he reined back his horse and began to shout like one possessed—
“Save yourselves, save yourselves; the Prussians are coming.”
The Colonel filled his glass and sipped it. The others looked at each other incredulously.
“The man is mad,” said Giraud.
“Or drunk,” said Tripard; “a gallop in the hills will do him good. Apropos, Captain, where does your road lead to? We have twenty maps of Germany là-bas but none of France. That is the way our people do things.”
“They fear you will lose the road to Berlin, Colonel,” suggested Beatrix; but Edmond said—
“It is the road to Reichshofen and Niederbronn. Those who join de Failly will go that way to-morrow, my Colonel. There is plenty of cover for an ambush if ever the Germans this way—”
“If the Germans—” ejaculated Giraud with irony that was almost indignation.
“They were here on Sunday, Monsieur Giraud,” Beatrix said quietly.