coach-house is a hay-loft. Break down the door...."

"Victor, show the gentleman the way," said Mme. Morestal to the servant.
"Here is the key."

"In the loft," continued the captain, "you will find two hundred bags of
plaster.... Use them to block up the parapet of this terrace.... Quick
as you can!... Every minute is worth an hour."

He himself went to the parapet, measured it and counted the balusters.
In the distance, within rifle-range, the Col du Diable formed a deep
gash between the great rocks. Saboureux's Farm guarded the entrance. As
yet, not a single figure of the enemy showed.

"Ah, twenty minutes!... If I only had twenty minutes!" repeated the
officer. "The position of the Old Mill is hard to beat. One would stand
a chance or two ..."

An adjutant and a couple more soldiers appeared at the top of the
staircase.

"Well?" asked Captain Daspry. "Are they coming?"

"The vanguard was turning the corner of the factory, at five hundred
yards from the pass," replied the adjutant.

"Are there any more of our men behind you?"

"Yes, captain, there's Duvauchel. He's wounded. They've laid him on a
stretcher...."

"Duvauchel!" cried the officer, anxiously. "It's not a serious wound, I
hope?"

"Upon my word ... I shouldn't like to say."

"Dash it all! But then one saw nothing but that devil in the front
line.... There was no holding him...."

"Yes," chuckled the adjutant, "he has a way of his own of deserting in
the face of the enemy!... He charges straight at them, the beggar!"

But Mme. Morestal grew frightened:

"A man wounded! I will go and prepare some bandages, get out the
medicine-chest.... We have all that's wanted.... Will you come, Marthe?"

"Yes, mother," replied Marthe, without budging.

She did not remove her eyes from her husband and tried to read on
Philippe's face the feelings that stirred him. She had first of all seen
him go back to the drawing-room and cross the entrance-hall, as though
he were thinking of the way out through the garden, which was still
free. The sudden arrival of the riflemen pushed him back; and he talked
to several of them in a low voice and gave them some bread and a flask
of brandy. Then he returned to the terrace. His inaction, in the midst
of the constant traffic to and fro, was obviously irksome to him. Twice
he consulted the drawing-room clock; and Marthe guessed that he was
thinking of the hour of the train and the time which he would need to
reach Lango