"I shall return to the French army at—It is needless to tell you where, as you have been studying the map so attentively."
"But," interrupted General von Waldenmeer, "within six months our allied armies will be in Paris. There will be no more Republic, and every one who has been instrumental in the death of King Louis XVI. and the destruction of the monarchy will have to pay the penalty. You are a young man. You have been led into this republicanism by older heads. I offer you an opportunity—not only of escaping the consequences of your folly but the chance of redeeming yourself by fighting on the right side—and you refuse?" and the general reached out for the beer-mug to sustain himself in his disappointment. He was so sincere in his offer and in his amazement at its refusal that the angry color on Tournay's cheek faded away and a smile crept to his lips.
"Come," said the old general, putting down his mug after an unusually long pull at the contents, "you are thinking better of it. I can understand a soldier's disinclination to desert his colors, but this is not as if I were asking you to be a traitor to your country. A von Waldenmeer would cut out his own tongue rather than propose that to any other soldier. I am putting it in your way to leave the service of a faction who by anarchy and rebellion have gained control of France. Under the banner of the allies are the true patriots of your country. You have only to throw off that red, white, and blue uniform and put on the colors of Prussia and you are one of them."
Again the flush of resentment rose to Tournay's cheek, but as he looked down upon the German general who in perfect good faith and seriousness made him such a proposal, and as he realized the utter impossibility of either of them ever seeing the subject in the same light, his look of anger changed to one of amusement, and a grim smile twitched at the corners of his mustache.
"I appreciate the honor you would do me, General von Waldenmeer, but I prefer to pay the penalty of my folly and remain loyal to the French Republic."
The general took up his papers again. "Very well," he said gruffly. "I will provide you with an escort over the frontier. It will be ready to start within the hour." His eyebrows came down and he became deeply immersed in the study of the map.
Tournay stood for a few moments looking at the fat forefinger of the old soldier as it traced its way over the surface of the map. His thoughts were of Mademoiselle de Rochefort. He wondered whether she had set out on her way to Hagenhof. He almost hoped that she had left and that he would be spared the pain of parting from her. Yet if she were still at Falzenberg he knew he never could force himself to leave and not make an attempt to bid her good-by.
It was with these conflicting emotions, mingled with a reluctance to mention her name to the gruff old general, that he said in a low voice:—
"Has Mademoiselle de Rochefort started on her journey to Hagenhof?"
He received no answer.