III
The Chateau du Breuil had been luckier than many similar country housesthat stood in the line of the German advance. Whether by accident or arare considerateness, it had not been shelled, and the officer who hadlast quartered himself there, though a German, was also a gentleman. Itstood, a noble building, in its little park, whole and intact as thefirst marquis built it in the reign of Henri Quatre.
At either end was a projecting wing of two stories, the wings beingconnected by the long one-storied building that contained theliving-rooms. Burton found the part of deaf mute irksome; he wished toquestion old Pierre as to the quarters in which the Germans had disposedthemselves. But he perforce kept silence, listening to a fragmentarydialogue in German between the orderly and Pierre, who, as he afterwardslearnt, had been valet to the marquis when the latter, as a young man,was military attache to the French embassy at Berlin.
They arrived at the kitchen entrance. Pierre went in first, and at onceaddressed an old white-haired lady who was stuffing a chicken at thekitchen table. He spoke so rapidly and in so low a tone that Burtoncould not follow his words, but he gathered their purport when the oldlady glanced at him, and signed to him to lay down his load on thetable.
"Madame la marquise has understood," he thought.
The orderly waited awhile; then, seeing that the lady had set Pierre andthe deaf mute to pare potatoes and turnips, he went off to report thatpreparations for dinner were at last in train.
"A thousand thanks, monsieur," whispered the marquise when the German'sback was turned. "It was good of you to help old Pierre. But, believeme, it is unwise of you to stay. If you should be discovered---- Ifyou made a slip----"
"Madame, to run risks is my daily work," said Burton. "I am glad toserve you--even in the capacity of kitchen-maid."
The marquise smiled wearily.
"We are playing strange parts, God help us!" she said. "I am in greatdistress, monsieur. The German officer----"
"Boitelet has told me about him, madame," said Burton. "Pardon: Iinterrupt; but we may have little time. Will you tell me what hashappened?"
"My poor son! They dismissed our good doctor who was attending him;they carried him, ill as he is, from his own room to one of theservants' rooms, and there they have locked him in with my husband. Itis on the floor above us. They have taken our rooms in the other wingfor themselves. They have ransacked the wine-cellar, and loaded thetable in the dining-room with my poor husband's finest vintage. But itis not what they have done but what they may do that fills me withdread. That horrible man----"
Old Pierre, who was standing near the door, at this moment put hisfinger quickly to his lips. When the orderly entered, the marquise wasturning the chicken on the spit, and Burton was cleaning the knives.
"The old frau is slow," said the German to Pierre. "The officers aregrowing impatient. She had better hurry, or there will be trouble."
"Madame la marquise will serve the dinner when it is ready," saidPierre, quietly.
"Teufel! You are insolent," cried the orderly, striking the old manacross the face.
Burton smothered the exclamation that rose to his lips. The marquiseflashed at the German such a look of indignant scorn that he wasabashed, and went out muttering sullenly.
"The visit of that horrible man," the old lady went on, ignoring theunderling's brutality, "is not accidental, I am sure. He contemplatesvengeance. He was dismissed with contumely, and I fear he will make mypoor son pay."
Burton could only murmur his sympathy. He watched with admiration thequick, deft actions of the marquise, who prepared the dinner asskilfully as her own cook could have done.
There was no opportunity for further conversation. The orderlyreturned, and lolled in a chair, commenting on the old lady's movementsin offensive tones that made Burton tingle. When the dishes were ready,the marquise told Pierre to carry them in.
"No, no, old witch," said the orderly, with a chuckle. "The Herr Majoris very particular; she must serve him herself."
Pierre translated this to his mistress, protesting that she must notsubmit to such indignity.
"Eh bien, mon ami," she said, "they cannot hurt me more. For my son'ssake I will be cook and bonne in one. Carry the dishes; I will showthem how a marquise waits at table."
Burton assisted the old man to convey the dishes to the dining-room,following the marquise. At their entrance there was a shout oflaughter. Four officers sat at the table--the major, his captain, andtwo moon-faced lieutenants.
"Where are your cap and apron, wench?" cried the major. "Go and putthem on at once. And make that dumb dog there understand that he is notto bring his dirty face inside; he can hand the things to you throughthe hatch."
The marquise compressed her lips, and, without replying, returned to thekitchen, and came back in a maid's cap and apron. What was meant forindignity and insult seemed to Burton, watching from the hatch, toenhance the lady's dignity. She moved about the table with thequickness of a waiting maid and the proud bearing of a queen, paying noheed to the coarse pleasantries of the Germans, or to their complaintsof the food, of which, nevertheless, they devoured large quantities.
"A tough fowl, this," said the major, "as old as the old hen herself."
"Ha, ha!" laughed his juniors, in whom the champagne they had alreadydrunk induced a facile admiration of the major's wit.
As the meal progressed, and the Germans' potations deepened, theirmanners went from bad to worse. They commenced an orgy ofplate-smashing, flinging pellets of damp bread at one another and atpictures on the walls. Burton's fingers tingled; from his place at thehatch he could have shot them one by one with the revolver that lay snugin his blouse. But he contained his anger. The four orderlies were inan adjacent room; the village was filled with the troopers; and hastyaction would probably involve the destruction of the chateau and themassacre of its long-suffering inhabitants.
Presently they called for coffee, and the major went to the marquis'scigar cupboard, promising his subordinates the best smoke of theirlives. The champagne seemed to have affected him less than the othermembers of the party, and Burton gained the impression that he washolding himself in for the accomplishment of some sinister purpose.
Dismissing the marquise with a curt and contemptuous "Gehen Sie aus," hecalled in an orderly to lock her in the upper room with her husband andson.
"Now get your own suppers and turn in," he said. "You may be disturbed;the sneaking Englishmen are somewhere in the neighbourhood; so keep aman on guard to give warning, and post a sentry in the corridor. SendVossling to me."
His own orderly entered. The major opened a fresh bottle, and passed itround the table; then with a "Verzeihen Sie mir" to his companions, herose, and took the man into the passage out of earshot. Burton hadslipped back into the kitchen; the passage appeared to be vacant.
A few minutes later old Pierre, his face blanched to the colour ofchalk, staggered into the kitchen.
"What is the matter?" asked Burton, alarmed.
He poured out a little brandy, and held the glass to the old man's paleand quivering lips. Pierre gulped the liquid, looked around with horrorin his eyes, and signed to Burton to throw the door wide open.
"They must not know, monsieur," he said in a whisper, tottering to achair.
"What is the matter?" Burton repeated.
"I was in the passage, I heard them coming. They are not there,monsieur?"
"No, there is no one," said Burton, looking out through the open door.
"I slipped into the dark ante-room, monsieur, and hid behind the tallclock. They came in."
"Who?"
"The major--Schwikkard, the accursed spy, and his man. I heard whatthey said. 'The old marquis is a bitter enemy of Germany,' saidSchwikkard. 'He fought against us in '70. He is a dangerous man. Now,if the west wing of the chateau caught fire--_caught fire_, youunderstand--say, in the early morning.' ... They are not there,monsieur?"<
br />
"No. Go on."
"'Caught fire!' he said. Mon Dieu! 'In the early morning--not tooearly, for that would disturb the sleep of some good Germans; but nottoo late, for that would bring the whole village here. If the west wingwere burned, and all in it'--_all in it_, monsieur!--'it would be a goodthing for Germany. Understand,' he said, 'it will be an accident. Weshould all try to put the fire out, but we should not succeed,naturally. These old places burn well. You understand? Well then,good-night--and see that you don't call me too soon--versteht sich!'The orderly chuckled, monsieur. Mon Dieu! Monsieur et madame, le pauvrecapitaine! Ah ciel! Quelle horreur!"