The corporal looked after his captain with an expression of mingled
amazement, grief, and philosophy. He seemed to be saying to himself that
there unfortunately were times, after all, when one could not rely upon
the most reliable of men. When he returned to the group he found the
captain bending over the girl and saying, "Why is it that you don't want
us to search upstairs?"
The girl's head was buried in her crossed arms. Locks of her hair had
escaped from their fastenings and these fell upon her shoulder.
"Won't you tell me?"
The corporal here winked again at the man next to him.
"Because," the girl moaned--"because--there isn't anybody up there."
The captain at last said timidly, "Well, I'm afraid--I'm afraid we'll
have to----"
The girl sprang to her feet again, and implored him with her hands. She
looked deep into his eyes with her glance, which was at this time like
that of the fawn when it says to the hunter, "Have mercy upon me!"
These two stood regarding each other. The captain's foot was on the
bottom step, but he seemed to be shrinking. He wore an air of being
deeply wretched and ashamed. There was a silence.