The Frontier Part 30

I swear it, Philippe ... and a good wife...."

He understood that she meant to be married and he suffered at the thought. But he said to her, gently, after looking at her lips, her bare neck, her whole charming, fragrant and tantalizing person:

"Thank you, Suzanne.... It is the best proof of your love.... I thank you."

She went on to say to him:

"And then, Philippe, you see, I don't want to give my father pain....

Any one can feel that he has been very unhappy.... And the reason why I was afraid, the other morning, that Marthe might discover the truth ...

was because of him."

"You need not fear, Suzanne."

"I need not, need I?" she said. "There is no danger of it.... And yet, this enquiry.... If you were compelled to confess?..."

"Oh, Suzanne, how can you think it?"

Their eyes mingled fondly, their hands had not parted. Philippe would have liked to speak affectionate words and especially to say how much he hoped that she would be happy. But no words rose to his lips save words of love; and he would not....

She gave a smile. A tear shone at the tip of her lashes. She stammered:

"I love you.... I shall always love you."

Then she released her hand.

Marthe, who had turned back, saw them standing together, motionless.

When they emerged at the corner of the Albern Path, they saw a group of journalists and sightseers gathered behind half-a-dozen gendarmes. The whole road was thus guarded, as far as the Saint-elophe rise. And, on the right, German gendarmes stood posted at intervals.

They reached the b.u.t.te. The b.u.t.te is a large round clearing, on almost level ground, surrounded by a circle of ancestral trees arranged like the colonnade of a temple. The road, a neutral zone, seven feet wide, runs through the middle.

On the west, the French frontier-post, in plain black cast-iron and bearing a slab with directions, like a sign-post.

On the east, the German post, in wood painted with a black and white spiral and surmounted by an escutcheon with the words, "_Deutsches Reich_."

Two military tents had been pitched for the double enquiry and were separated by a s.p.a.ce of fifty or sixty yards. Above each waved the flag of its respective country. A soldier was on guard outside either tent: a Prussian infantryman, helmet on head, s.h.i.+n-strap buckled; an Alpine rifleman, bonneted and gaitered. Each stood with his rifle at the order.

Not far from them, on either side of the clearing, were two little camps pitched among the trees: French soldiers, German soldiers. And the officers formed two groups.

French and German horizons showed in the mist between the branches.

"You see, Marthe, you see," whispered Philippe, whose heart was gripped with emotion. "Isn't it terrible?"

"Yes, yes," she said.

But a young man came towards them, carrying under his arm a portfolio bulging with papers:

"M. Philippe Morestal, I believe? I am M. de Trebons, attached to the department of the under-secretary of state. M. Le Corbier is talking to M. Morestal your father and begs that you will be good enough to wait."

He took him, with Marthe and Suzanne, to the French camp, where they found, seated on a bench, Farmer Saboureux and Old Poussiere, who had likewise been summoned as witnesses. From there, they commanded the whole circus of the b.u.t.te.

"How pale you look, Philippe!" said Marthe. "Are you ill?"

"No," he said. "Please don't worry me."

Half an hour pa.s.sed. Then the canvas fly that closed the German tent was lifted and a number of persons came out.

Suzanne gave a stifled cry:

"Papa!... Look ... Oh, my poor father!... I must go and kiss him...."

Philippe held her back and she obeyed, feebly. Jorance, besides, had disappeared, had been led by two gendarmes to the other camp; and Weisslicht the detective and his men were now being shown into the tent.

But the French tent opened, an instant after, to let old Morestal out.

M. de Trebons was with him and went back with Saboureux and Old Poussiere. All this coming and going seemed to take place by rule and was effected in great silence, interrupted only by the sound of the footsteps.

Morestal also was very pale. As Philippe put no question to him, Marthe asked:

"Are you satisfied, father?"

"Yes, we began all over again from the start. I gave all my explanations on the spot. My proofs and arguments have made an impression on him. He is a serious man and he acts with great prudence."

In a few minutes, M. de Trebons returned with Saboureux and Old Poussiere. Farmer Saboureux continued disputing, in a state of great excitement:

"Hope they've finished this time! That makes three of them enquiring into me!... What do they want with me, after all? When I keep on telling everybody that I was fast asleep.... And Poussiere too.... Isn't it so, Poussiere, you and I saw none of it?"

And, suddenly seizing M. de Trebons by the arm, he said, in a choking voice:

"I say, there's not going to be a war, is there? Ah, no, we can't do with that! You can tell your gentry in Paris that we don't want it....

Oh, no, I've toiled enough as it is! War indeed! Uhlans burning everything!..."

He seemed terrified. His bony old hands clutched M. de Trebons' arm and his little eyes glittered with rage.

Old Poussiere jerked his head and stammered:

"Oh, no!... The Uhlans!... The Uhlans!..."

M. de Trebons released himself gently and made them sit down. Then, going up to Marthe:

"M. Le Corbier would be glad to see you, madame, at the same time as M.

Philippe Morestal. And he also asks M. Morestal to be good enough to come back."

The two Morestals and Marthe walked away, leaving Suzanne Jorance behind.

But, at that moment, a strange thing happened, which, no doubt, had its effect on the march of events. From the German tent issued Weisslicht and his men, followed by an officer in full uniform, who crossed the open s.p.a.ce, went up to M. de Trebons and told him that his excellency the Statthalter, having completed his enquiries, would feel greatly honoured if he could have a short conversation with the under-secretary of state.