There was no answer, but before he called again a tall figure in a black
cloak ran from the doorway and hurried toward him.
“Césaire!... Césaire!” were the only words she spoke. She clung against
him, the metal of his bright cuirass pressing her lovely, soft body. For
a time Césaire kissed her passionately and at length, without a word,
she led him away from the house to the pleached walk that led from the
château garden down to the river. They walked sadly with arms encircling
each other’s waists.
“I have but a moment,” said the Baron. “At most, ten minutes. I have no
right even to that.”
She told him that Madame Gigon was dying. She explained that old Pierre
had not appeared to help them to escape and that he would have been of
no use since it was impossible to move her companion. And when she had
wasted three precious minutes in these explanations, she said, “You need
not worry for me.... I shall be quite safe.... If only I could be as
certain of you.”
At this he laughed softly, reassuring her and pulling his fierce
mustachios in warlike fashion.
“You need not fear for me,” he said. “I have had such great luck ...
always.” And he looked at her closely with shining eyes.
Then they sat for a time in silence, clinging closely to each other.
Presently he took off his helmet and rested it in her lap allowing her
to twist her fingers in and out among the long black hair of the plume.
“And Jean,” she said, after a time. “He is with you?”
“He is with me. He passed with the others beneath your window. He sent
you his love. He would have come too, but he knew it was unsoldierly to
break the ranks.... He is a good soldier,” he added softly. “A valiant
fellow. With me it is different. I am an old fellow. I have learned that
there are times when one must break the ranks. There are times when even
breaking ranks does not matter.”
In the darkness Lily’s eyes closed as if she felt a sharp, sudden pain.
“Ellen advised me,” she said, “never to be too fond of my child.”
Her lover kissed her and answered, “Come, you must not think of it like
that. You must understand he is a boy ... an ardent boy.”
And then he fell again to talking of her danger. He urged her not to
remain.
“I have the curé here ... M. Dupont,” she said.
“Leave him with Madame Gigon.”
“No. That I will not do.... Besides the Germans may never arrive here
after all.”
“No,” he said, gravely. “Perhaps not. We shall try to prevent them.”
Then they walked back again to the gateway. The house was silent now and
the voice of M. Dupont no longer to be heard. The Baron replaced his
helmet, untied his horse and swung himself on the back of the animal.
Leaning down, he kissed her again and then turned through the gateway
into the road. She listened to the sound of the black horse’s hoofs as
he galloped past the moving columns, and at last when the echo was no
longer audible she reentered the house and flung herself down upon the
bed. Throughout the brief visit, she had restrained herself. Now she
wept quietly, almost in peace, as if she were enveloped already by a
great resignation.