The keeper's lodge served as a kind of outpost in the forest of Aveline. Twice a week the man went for provisions, and carried to the citizens news from the outlying country.
He had gone that day to announce that a small detachment of German infantry had stopped at his house, the day before, about two in the afternoon, and had gone away again almost directly. The subaltern in command spoke French.
When the old man went on such errands he took with him his two dogs—two great beasts with the jaws of lions—because of the wolves who were beginning to get fierce; and he left his two women, advising them to lock themselves into the house as soon as night began to fall.
The young one was afraid of nothing, but the old one kept on trembling and repeating:
"It will turn out badly, all this sort of thing. You'll see, it will turn out badly."
This evening she was more anxious even than usual.
"Do you know what time your father will come back?" said she.
"Oh, not before eleven for certain. When he dines with the Major he is always late."
She was hanging her saucepan over the fire to make the soup, when she stopped short, listened to a vague sound which had reached her by way of the chimney, and murmured:
"There's some one walking in the wood—seven or eight men at least."