Part 27 (2/2)

At breakfast the cousins spoke only in monosyllables. A pall was over their thoughts. They could hear the steady tramp of men or the creak of gun-carriages and caissons pa.s.sing, like a march of fate that would never end. Something was gone from their hearts and minds, from the house, the garden, the air, the world--which was still with them as long as a French soldier stood between them and the enemy. There was nothing to do but stay indoors. The chateau and its grounds became a prison.

Helen took a chair out behind a bush by the gate, where she could look through an opening, and began sketching. Henriette tried to read a novel. Phil walked in the grounds. What were the old father and mother in Longfield thinking had become of him? How long should he be here? He had turned to go into the house when steps on the walk, with the jingle of spurs, arrested him and he looked around to see a young officer of distinctly Prussian pattern approaching.

Lieutenant von Eichborn, aide to Lieutenant-General von Stein, division commander, was probably four and twenty. From the peak of his helmet to his spurs he thought well of himself and poorly of everybody else in the world who was not Prussian and of his caste. This person in front of him was a civilian. Since August first civilians had been of no account on the continent of Europe. Besides, it was a nuisance to have the owner of a chateau about.

”Do you live here?” he asked.

”Yes, for the present,” Phil replied.

”English?” von Eichborn shot at him and in English.

”American!” Phil politely gave monosyllable for monosyllable. He did not like von Eichborn.

”I am going to look over the chateau with a view to making it staff headquarters,” said von Eichborn, starting toward the door past Phil.

”Evidently,” said Phil.

Von Eichborn wheeled on him.

”Take care!” he said. ”I am an officer.”

”I judged that you were,” Phil replied, with studied politeness.

Von Eichborn stared, frowned. Phil neither stared nor frowned; he smiled.

”What else am I to say?” he added. ”I am not used to military customs.”

Von Eichborn strolled on into the hall.

”Pleasant place. I think it will do--the best in this neighbourhood, anyway. But I'll go through it.”

Henriette rose from her chair as he entered the sitting-room and the aide of General von Stein who thought so well of himself, startled, put up his eye-gla.s.s, dropped it, and made a low bow.

”The chateau belongs to Mademoiselle Ribot's mother,” Phil explained.

”Most charming place, most charming!” said von Eichborn, speaking French now, while he was looking into Henriette's eyes and smiling.

”We think so,” Henriette replied, and she smiled, partly in response to his admiration, perhaps, as well as for policy's sake.

”Madame, your mother is not here?”

”No. She succeeded in getting away on the last train to Paris.”

”Perhaps I shall see her there,” von Eichborn remarked.

”You are quite sure?” Henriette flashed.

Her spirit seemed to please him; at least, he smiled again. A straight, fine figure of militarism he made, his head inclined toward her; but the thickish lips, the rather outstanding ears with heavy lobes, and the straight line from neck to crown marked him as a brute.

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