M. Ulrich embraced him.
"Courage, my boy, we shall meet soon. Take care not to let any one guess your plan. Who is it you are going to tell?"
"M. Bastian."
The uncle approved, and already on the threshold, pointing to the next room which M. Philippe Oberlé never left now:
"The poor man! There is more honour in his half of a human personality than in all the others together. Good-bye, Jean!"
Some hours passed and Jean went to the office of the works as usual. But his mind was so distracted that work was impossible. The employees who wished to speak to him noticed it. One of the foremen could not help saying to the clerks in the writing department, Germans like himself:
"The German cavalry is making ravages here: the master looks half mad."
The same patriotic feeling made them all laugh silently.
Then the dinner bell rang. Jean dreaded meeting his mother and Lucienne. Lucienne held her brother back as she was entering the dining-room, and in the half-light tenderly embraced him, holding him closely to her. Like most engaged people, it was probably a little of the other she was embracing without knowing it. However, the thought at least was for Jean. She murmured: