"Do you know, Oberlé, that I had the honour of meeting your father in society last winter? I asked to be introduced."
"Excuse me, I am still such a new-comer...."
Conversation languished at this moment at Carolis, and Jean noticed that the two blue tunics had turned towards him, and that the commandant and the captain were both examining the face of the future volunteer.
They finished drinking the wine like Bordeaux they had ordered in a sealed bottle.
"I should much like to see more of you," said Farnow, lowering his voice. "I hope we shall be able to meet."
"Do you know Alsheim?"
"Yes; I've been through it several times during manœuvres."
The lieutenant was visibly trying to find out how far he could go.
He was in an annexed country; many incidents of daily life had taught him that. He did not care about renewing the experience. He was feeling his way. Should he promise a call? He did not know yet. And this uncertainty, so contrary to his energetic nature; this caution, so wounding to his pride—made him hold up his head as if he were going to pick up a challenge.
Jean, on his side, was disturbed. This simple thing, the receiving a former comrade, seemed to him now a delicate problem to solve. Personally he should have inclined towards the affirmative. But neither Madame Oberlé nor the grandfather would admit any exception to the rule so strictly kept up to now—that no Germans, except quick and commonplace business men, should be admitted to the house of the old protesting deputy. They would never consent. But it was hard for Jean to show himself less tolerant in Strasburg than he had been in Munich, and at the the first meeting on Alsatian ground to offend the young officer who had come to him with hand outstretched. He tried at least to put a note of cordiality into his answer: