“And now?”
It was the voice of Von Holwitz, facing his judge.
“Follow me.”
“Murder?”
At this Bernoline started up and running to her brother, caught him by the arm.
“Maurice, qu’est-ce que tu vas faire?”
“Ne crains rien, ma petite soeur. Aie foi! La justice du bon Dieu se fera. General von Holwitz—are you ready?”
“I am curious to know your plan. Is it murder?”
“Monsieur, you forget that you are among Frenchmen,” he said, looking down at him. “I have no further explanations to make to you. Père Glorieux, you will inform Mademoiselle de Saint Omer.”
None of us noticed the slip until afterwards. Von Holwitz flushed under the rebuke, shrugged his shoulders, and then turned to Bernoline.