A squadron of hussars was already bivouacked there; their wagons were coming across the fields from the Dreslin road; officers, men, and horses had taken advantage of the woods to escape observation from air-scouts; and three batteries of artillery were parked in the Forêt de Saïs, where the cannoniers had already begun to cover everything with green branches.
As they passed through the Forêt de Saïs, out of which a shepherd with his shaggy dogs was driving his flock, they overtook an officer of hussars on foot, sauntering along the same path, a lighted cigarette between his white-gloved fingers.
He stepped aside into the bracken, courteously, in deference to Sister Eila, and lifted his hand to his shako in salute. But when he caught sight of Warner he stepped forward with a quick, boyish smile and held out his hand.
"Do you remember me?—D'Aurès? This is Monsieur Warner, is it not?"
They exchanged a handclasp; Warner presented him to Sister Eila.
"This is exceedingly nice," said the American cordially. "We—Sister Eila and I—are returning to the Château. I hope you will come with us."
"If I may venture to pay my respects——"
"You will be welcome, I know." He added, laughing: "Also, the ladies will be most interested in the fate of their horses and their automobiles."
The Vicomte d'Aurès reddened, but laughed:
"The Countess was most gracious, most patriotic," he said. "But one could expect nothing less from a De Moidrey. Nevertheless, I felt like a bandit that evening. I left them only a basket wagon and a donkey."