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For it did not occur to him that he might leave Morteyn as long as Lorraine stayed. It was late in the afternoon when he lighted a pipe and walked out to the road, where the smooth macadam no longer bore the slightest trace of wheel or hoof, and nobody could have imagined that part of an army corps had passed there the night before.
"I regret the military necessity of occupying the Château; the government will indemnify Monsieur le Vicomte " Jack held up his hand: "My uncle is an old soldier of France the government is welcome; I bid you welcome in the name of the Vicomte de Morteyn." The old general flushed and bowed deeply. "I thank you in the name of the government. Blood will tell.
And so it happened that the whole party invaded three first-class compartments of an east-bound train at the Gare de l'Est, and twenty-two hours later were trooping up the terrace steps of the Château Morteyn, here in the forests and fragrant meadows of Lorraine.
The Uhlans had probably not seen him; if they had, it made little difference, for even the picquet that had chased him could not have recognized him at that distance. Then, again, in a whole regiment it was not likely that the three horsemen who had peeped at Morteyn through the road-gate could have been part of that same cursed picquet.
When he finished, he removed the cigarette from his lips, looked eagerly at Jack, and said: "You are from Morteyn?" "Yes." "A guest?" "The Vicomte de Morteyn is my uncle." The officer burst into a boyish laugh. "Jack Marche!" "Eh!" cried Jack, startled. Then he looked more closely at the young officer before him, who was laughing in his face. "Well, upon my word!
"Times have changed since we breakfasted by candle-light at Morteyn," said Jack, trying to regain his coolness. "I know I know," said Grahame, sympathetically. "It's devilish rough on you all on Madame de Morteyn. I can never forget her charming welcome. Dear me, but this war is disgusting; isn't it now? And what the devil are you doing here? Heavens, man, you're a sight!"
Also it was true that he would not have permitted a Frenchman to visit Lorraine as Jack did. He hated two persons; one of these was Jack's uncle, the Vicomte de Morteyn. On the other hand, he admired him, too, because the vicomte, like himself, was a royalist and shunned the Tuileries as the devil shuns holy water.
I saw them I, Brocard the poacher." After a moment he resumed: "There were more poachers than Jean Brocard in Morteyn. I saw the Prussian officers stand in the carrefours and shoot the deer as they ran in, a line of soldiers beating the woods behind them. I saw the Saxons laugh as they shot at the pheasants and partridges; I saw them firing their revolvers at rabbits and hares.
At last, on the 10th of August, about five o'clock in the afternoon, the last squadron of the rear-guard cantered over the hills west of Morteyn, and the last straggling Uhlan followed after, twirling his long lance.
"Yes, there's a cold chicken and some things, and a flask to keep you until you find your Hohenzollern Regiment again." Grahame rose and held out his hand. "Good-by. You've been very kind, Marche. Will you say, for me, all that should be said to Madame de Morteyn? Good-by once more, my dear fellow. Don't forget me I shall never forget you!"
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