As he neared Alsheim, Jean's desertion seemed to him more credible. Every detail of his conversation with Madame Oberlé came back to him, and other reasons as well for believing the calamity against which his imperious will was fighting desperately. "He does not understand Germany; he was glorying in it at Councillor Brausig's. And then his disunited family—a disunion increased by my engagement. But then he is himself engaged, or almost; and characters like his, French characters, must be dominated by love. No; I shall find him there—or have news of him."
It was warm; the long dusty road stretched from village to village, without shade, a thin line between the fields, now bare of their crops. The sky hung over them like brass, on the horizon banks of motionless clouds rose above the Vosges, throwing out rays of light. The horses, covered with sweat, continued to gallop. Under the scattered walnut-trees, among the stubble, children raised their switches and shouted as the riders passed them.
"Is the lieutenant crazy?" thought Hermann; "he is going faster and faster."
Farnow's anguish increased as he drew nearer his destination. "If I do not find him," he murmured, "supposing he has——"
Obernai was passed on the right. A sign-post at the cross roads pointed to Alsheim, and soon the blue roof of the Oberlés' house appeared among the green.
"Lucienne, Lucienne, Lucienne!"
The house seemed to slumber in the heavy heat of the autumn day, the silence being broken only by a feeble, monotonous voice. Seated near grandfather Oberlé's chair, in the room which the invalid could never hope to leave, Madame Oberlé was reading aloud the Journal d'Alsace, which the postman had just delivered.
Through the open window her voice could be heard murmuring as though engaged in the rhythmic recital of the rosary. In the billiard-room above, that which was still called Jean's room, M. Joseph Oberlé was dozing behind the curtain, on his knees lay several letters, and a copy of the Strasburger Post. At the end of the room Lucienne could be seen writing at a Louis XVI. desk.
"Monsieur? Monsieur Oberlé?"
Joseph Oberlé jumped up and threw open the door, which was ajar, meeting the concierge running towards him.