“Ah, mon bien aimé, will you desert me now?”
My brain cleared instantly. I put my hand over my eyes and pressed against the dull numbness that filled my head. When I looked up, De Saint Omer had loosened his hold and stood watching me.
“David, understand well one thing,” he said sharply, to bring me to my senses. “As head of my family, I command here.”
Even then nothing could have held me,—nothing but the touch of her hand.
“God! You can stand here and reason!”
“Come to your senses! At once!” he ripped out, with the suddenness of a drill master. “Do you hear me, Lieutenant Littledale! At once!”
It was incongruous, grotesque, and involuntary, but I came to attention and my hand went up in salute. Our eyes met, and what I saw there made me forget everything else.
“Pardon, mon commandant. I am at your orders.”
Then I looked at Von Holwitz; if there was death brooding in the face of De Saint Omer, the face of the other was the face of the dead.