She answered: "Go and fetch M. Lavigne and his men. He'll take them prisoners; and won't he be pleased!"
Then Father Pichou smiled: "Yes; he will be pleased."
His daughter resumed: "Here's some soup for you; eat it quick and go off again."
The old keeper sat down and began to eat his soup, after having put down two plates full for his dogs.
The Prussians, hearing voices, had become silent.
A quarter of an hour later, Pichou started again. Berthine, with her head in her hands, waited.
The prisoners were moving about again. They shouted and called, and beat continually with their guns on the immovable trap-door of the cellar.
Then they began to fire their guns through the grating, hoping, no doubt, to be heard if any German detachment were passing in the neighborhood.
The keeper's wife did not stir; but all this noise tried her nerves, and irritated her. An evil anger awoke in her; she would have liked to kill them, the wretches, to keep them quiet.
Then, as her impatience increased, she began to look at the clock and count the minutes.