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Updated: June 25, 2025
But, as from his introducing himself it was evident he could not know that lady very well, Marie took courage and smiled. "Which 'Pierrot'?" she parried. "Pierre Thierry!" cried the youth. To the relief of Marie he turned upon the adjutant and to him explained who Pierre Thierry might be. "Paul d'Aurillac," he said, "is my dearest friend.
She explained that for a week she had been a prisoner in the chateau, and, since the mobilization, of her husband save that he was with his regiment in Paris she had heard nothing. Captain Thierry was able to give her later news. Only the day previous, on the boulevards, he had met Count d'Aurillac.
At all times an alluring person, now the one woman in a tumult of men, her smart frock covered by an apron, her head and arms bare, undismayed by the sight of the wounded or by the distant rumble of the guns, the Countess d'Aurillac was an inspiring and beautiful picture. The eyes of the officers, young and old, informed her of that fact, one of which already she was well aware.
"From among them," said the officer, "we have selected one for you. It is issued to the wife of Count d'Aurillac, a captain of reserves, and her aunt, Madame Benet. It asks for those ladies and their chauffeur, Briand, a safe-conduct through the French military lines. If it gets you into Paris you will destroy it and assume another name. The Count d'Aurillac is now with his regiment in that city.
She explained that for a week she had been a prisoner in the château, and, since the mobilization, of her husband save that he was with his regiment in Paris she had heard nothing. Captain Thierry was able to give her later news. Only the day previous, on the boulevards, he had met Count d'Aurillac.
"Of course," prompted the adjutant, "Madame d'Aurillac understands the man must not know we inquired concerning him." General Andre frowned at Marie. "Certainly not!" he commanded. "The honest fellow must not know that even for a moment he was doubted." Marie raised the violet eyes reprovingly.
Marie felt a hand of ice clutch at her throat. But she controlled herself. "And what is this?" she cried gayly. At her side Captain Thierry was smiling down at her, but his smile was hateful. "It is the prison of St. Lazare," he said. "It is not becoming," he added sternly, "that the name of the Countess d'Aurillac should be made common as the Paris road!"
"He means to," he said. "I am the Count d'Aurillac!" In Salonika, the American consul, the Standard Oil man, and the war correspondents formed the American colony. The correspondents were waiting to go to the front. Incidentally, as we waited, the front was coming rapidly toward us.
The signal from the adjutant was so slight, so swift, that Marie barely intercepted it. The lips of the general shut together like the leaves of a book. To show the interview was at an end, he reached for a pen. "I thank you," he said. "Of course," prompted the adjutant, "Madame d'Aurillac understands the man must not know we inquired concerning him." General Andre frowned at Marie.
Fighting for her life, Marie thrust herself against him; her arm that throughout the journey had rested on the back of the driving-seat caressed his shoulders; her lips and the violet eyes were close to his. "Why should you care?" she whispered fiercely. "You have me! Let the Count d'Aurillac look after the honor of his wife himself." The charming Thierry laughed at her mockingly.
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