"No, mademoiselle, no," said Robert Tournay in a low tone.
By a quick gesture she bade him be silent.
"General von Waldenmeer, you are a brave soldier. You have professed the greatest friendship for your old friend's daughter. She now asks you to release these gentlemen. As a soldier and a gentleman you are bound to grant her prayer."
She spoke the words simply and in the tone which was natural to her, as if the request admitted of no denial; and laying her hand upon the general's arm looked into his rough face.
For a moment he sat in silence. His heavy brows came down until they shaded his eyes completely. Then taking the hand that rested on his sleeve, he said:—
"At the risk of neglecting my duty as a soldier, I will grant your request. These men shall go free, but," he added hastily, as though his consent to their liberation had been given too quickly, "they must be kept under surveillance here until to-morrow, and then they shall be escorted back over the frontier. Colonel von Waldenmeer," he continued, addressing his son, "I leave you to conduct these French gentlemen to their quarters. I make you responsible for their keeping."
Edmé held out her hand to Tournay. "Good-night, Colonel Tournay," she said. "It is a great joy and relief to know that you are to come to no harm through having brought me here. And you, who have done so much for me, will surely overlook this last and slight indignity which you are called upon to endure for my sake."
"Mademoiselle," he replied, bending over her hand and speaking in a tone so low that none other in the room could hear, "there is nothing in the world I would not endure for your sake. To have you speak to me like this repays me a thousand-fold. Adieu, mademoiselle. Now, Colonel von Waldenmeer, I am ready;" and with Gaillard at his side he followed young von Waldenmeer from the room.