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Updated: June 16, 2025
At the next section sat the officers of the citadelle, a passing general, and at the left hand of the commandant, Monsieur Dellahousse and the mild lieutenant. Overhead the stone roof of the tunnel was arched with flags, and orderlies hurried up and down serving the diners. Fanny, halfway up the long table, wavered in doubt. Where, after all, was she supposed to sit?
She did not know what to make of this. "He dislikes it intensely when you talk to the commandant of the citadelle." "But...." "He does not think you exclusive enough, considering you, as he does, as his woman." "But, why...." "Yes, of course! But you ought to realise that you are the only woman for miles around, and you belong to us!" "You too?" "Well, yes. I have something the same feeling.
They know so much they never dare to tell, while affecting that they know nothing and are innocent. For it is beyond question that several hours later, when the village and the Citadelle were lost in slumber, Mere Riquette stirred stealthily where she lay upon the hearth, opened her big green eyes, and began to wash. But this toilette was pretence in case any one was watching.
And, higher up, upon the flank of wooded mountains, is just visible still the great red-roofed farm of Cotendard, built by his friend Lord Wemyss, another Jacobite refugee, who had strange parties there and entertained Jean Jacques Rousseau in his exile. La Citadelle in the village was the wing of another castle he began to build, but left unfinished.
"I will unpack," she thought, and from her knapsack drew what she had by chance brought with her. Upon the shelf she arranged a tin of singe the French bully beef a gilt box of powder, a toothbrush, a comb, a map, a packet of letters to be answered, and a magneto spanner. There was an hour yet before dinner and she wandered out into the corridors to explore the citadelle.
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