The old general held out his hand with a gesture entirely charming.

"I envy General Farron your friendship," he said. "I had a son—perhaps your age. He died—yesterday." After a silence, he said: "There are ladies in the Château?"

"Yes," replied Jack, soberly.

The general turned with a gesture towards the woods. "It is too late to move them; we are, it appears, fairly well walled in. The cellar, in case of bombardment, is the best you can do for them. How many are there?"

"Two, general. One is a Sister of Mercy."

Other officers began to gather on the terrace, glasses persistently focussed on the nearer woods. Somebody called to an officer below the terrace to hurry the cannon.

Jack made his way through the throng of officers to the stairs, mounted them, and knocked at Lorraine's door.

"Is it you—Jack?"

"Yes."

"Come."