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"Listen, Silvine," Honore slowly and feelingly went on; "you sent me a letter that afforded me great pleasure. I should have never come back here, but that letter I have been reading it again this evening speaks of things that could not have been expressed more delicately " She had turned pale when first she heard the subject mentioned.
If I do not find the window open next Monday evening at seven o'clock I will come with a detail the following day and arrest the inmates of the house and then will return and bear away the little one. Think of it well; au revoir, Silvine."
This gentleman requested to be allowed to see the pass, which he examined attentively and restored to Silvine; then, with an expression of compassion on his face, he gave directions that the poor woman should have her donkey returned to her and be allowed to go in quest of her husband's body.
And a dusky flock of ravens flew away, croaking noisily, and swarms of flies, thousands upon thousands of them, attracted by the odor of fresh blood, were buzzing over the bodies and returning incessantly. "Where is the spot?" Silvine asked again. They were then passing a plowed field that was completely covered with knapsacks.
He touched glasses with Prosper, and also with Silvine, whom he at times was half inclined to marry, knowing what a treasure he had in his faithful, hard-working little servant; but what was the use? he knew she would never leave him, that she would still be there when Charlot should be grown and go in turn to serve his country as a soldier.
There was a sound of rapid steps coming up the road and the old man was heard to cock his weapon. "Who goes there?" he shouted. "Is it you, Silvine?" There was no reply. He repeated his question, threatening to fire. Then a laboring, breathless voice managed to articulate: "Yes, yes, Father Fouchard; it is I." And she quickly asked: "And Charlot?" "He is abed and asleep." "That is well! Thanks."
And grasping Weiss by both his hands and giving them a hearty squeeze, he strode swiftly away toward the slight elevation where the guns of the reserves were parked, without again mentioning his father's name or sending any word to Silvine, whose name lay at the end of his tongue. The minutes slipped away, and over toward the left, where the 2d brigade lay, a bugle sounded.
He therefore finally decided to go and lay the matter before the mayor of Remilly, who was a kind of distant cousin of his, and they two between them concocted a story: Silvine was to pass as the actual widow of Honore, Prosper became her brother, so that the Bavarian colonel, who had his quarters in the Hotel of the Maltese Cross down in the lower part of the village, made no difficulty about granting a pass which authorized the brother and sister to bring home the body of the husband, provided they could find it.
And the suspense was long protracted, Goliah prowling warily about the house before he would risk entering. He thought he could depend on the young woman, and had therefore come unarmed save for a single revolver in his belt, but he was haunted by a dim presentiment of evil; he pushed open the window to its entire extent and thrust his head into the apartment, calling below his breath: "Silvine!
The expression faded from the eyes; they became dim, the light died from out them. "Say, Silvine, we shall want a sponge, too." She made no reply, standing riveted to the floor in an attitude of unconsciousness, her arms folded tightly across her bosom, her throat constricted as by the clutch of a mailed hand, gazing on the horrible spectacle.
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