The airman was whispering to a fat staff officer when she rejoined him. All three looked up in silence at the belfry of Sainte Lesse, looming above them, a monstrous shadow athwart the stars. A moment later[pg 237] an automobile, arriving from the south, drew up in front of the inn.
"Bonne chance," said the fat officer abruptly; he turned and waddled swiftly away in the darkness. They saw him mount his horse. His legs stuck out sideways.
"Now," whispered the airman, with a nod to the chauffeur.
The little bell-mistress entered the car, her wooden gloves tucked under one arm. The airman followed with his packet and his sack of bombs. The chauffeur started his engine.
The middle of the road was free to him; the edges were occupied by the retreating infantry. As the car started, very slowly, cautiously feeling its way out of Sainte Lesse, the fat staff officer turned his horse and trotted up alongside. The car stopped, the engine still running.
"It's understood?" asked the officer in a low voice. "It's to be when we hear 'La Brabançonne'?"
"When you hear 'La Brabançonne.'"
"Understood," said the staff officer crisply, saluted and drew bridle. And the car moved[pg 238] out into the starlit night along an endless column of retreating soldiers, who were laughing, smoking, and chatting as though not in the least depressed by their withdrawal from the dry and cosy trenches of Nivelle which they were abandoning.