"You are very near the Rhine."
"There will be—there shall be no invasion," she said, feverishly. "France also ends at the Rhine; let them look to their own!"
She moved impatiently, stepped from the stones to the damp gravel, and walked slowly across the misty lawn. He followed, leading the horses behind him and holding his telegram open in his right hand. Presently she looked back over her shoulder, saw him following, and waited.
"Why, will you go as war correspondent?" she asked when he came up, leading the saddled horses.
"I don't know; I was on the Herald staff in New York; they gave me a roving commission, which I enjoyed so much that I resigned and stayed in Paris. I had not dreamed that I should ever be needed—I did not think of anything like this."
"Have you never seen war?"
"Nothing to speak of. I was the Herald's representative at Sadowa, and before that I saw some Kabyles shot in Oran. Where are you going?"
"To the river. We can hear the carriage when it comes, and I want to see the lights of the Château de Nesville."
"From the river? Can you?"
"Yes—the trees are cut away north of the boat-house. Look! I told you so. My father is there alone."