:

"You shall have your wish, monsieur le ministre. Commissary Jorance is
here, at your disposal."

He clapped his heels together, raised his hand to his helmet and gave
the military salute. The interview was ended.

The German crossed the frontier. M. Le Corbier watched him walk away,
stood for a moment in thought and then returned to the French tent.

He was surprised to find the Morestals there. But he gave a gesture as
though, after all, he was rather pleased than otherwise at this accident
and he asked M. de Trebons:

"Did you hear?"

"Yes, monsieur le ministre."

"Then do not lose a moment, my dear Trebons. You will find my car at the
bottom of the hill. Go to Saint-Elophe, telephone to the prime minister
and communicate the German reply to him officially. It is urgent. There
may be immediate measures to be taken ... with regard to the frontier."

He said these last words in a low voice, with his eyes fixed on the two
Morestals, went out with M. de Trebons and accompanied him as far as the
French camp.

A long silence followed upon his disappearance. Philippe, clenching his
fists, blurted out:

"It's terrible ... it's terrible...."

And turning to his father:

"You are quite sure, I suppose, of what you are swearing?... Of the
exact place?..."

Morestal shrugged his shoulders.

Philippe insisted:

"It was at night.... You may have made a mistake...."

"No, no, I tell you, no," growled Morestal, angrily. "I know what I am
talking about. You'll end by annoying me."

Marthe tried to interfere:

"Come, Philippe.... Your father is accustomed to ..."

But Philippe caught her by the arm and, roughly:

"Hold your tongue ... I won't allow it.... What do you know?... What are
you meddling for?"

He broke off suddenly, as though ashamed of his anger, and, in a fit of
weakness and uncertainty, murmured an apology:

"I beg your pardon, Marthe.... You too, father, forgive me.... Please
forgive me.... There are situations in which we are bound to pardon one
another for all the pain that we can give one another."

Judging by the contraction of his features, one would have thought that
he was on the verge of crying, like a child trying to restrain its tears
and failing in the effort.

Morestal stared at him in amazement. His wife looked at him aslant and
felt fear rising within her, as at the approach of a great calamity.

But the tent opened once more. M. Le Corbier entered. Special
Commissary Jo