She went forward without a murmur. The fate of the others was to be hers also.
Where was Edmond? If he were there he would certainly teach those brutes a severe lesson. But alas! he was not there. The Belgians had been driven out, and they, weak and defenceless, were held by a fierce relentless set of savages. The whole world was now learning the vanity of attempting to distinguish between the Germany of “culture” and the panoplied brutality of Prussian arrogance.
With the others, Aimée had ascended the steps and had gained the big ancient kitchen of the inn.
A number of the elder women had been pushed forward out into the street, where some screamed in sudden madness at seeing the bodies of men lying in the roadway. But Aimée, with half a dozen or so of the younger women, were detained by the officer, who had just given a sharp order to his men.
Suddenly the young elegant in command went outside, leaving the women to suffer the indignities of a dozen or so soldiers left to guard them. The big infantryman again approached Aimée, but the would speak no further word.
Suddenly, in the doorway, there appeared the figure of a major, at whose word the men quickly drew up to attention.
Aimée looked at him, scarce believing her own eyes.
Was she dreaming?
She stood staring at him. Though his uniform was strange, his face was only too familiar.
It was Arnaud Rigaux.