There was a look upon his face that Burton could not fathom--an ugly smile that made him shiver. The horsemen rode away, and Boitelet, the smith, spat upon the ground. II "Come inside, monsieur," murmured the smith, glancing round to see that no German was within hearing. Then he threw up his hands and groaned. "He is an insolent hound," said Burton, sympathetically. "Ah, monsieur, it is not that; all these Prussians are brutes. I fear for monsieur le marquis." "Who is the marquis? He has a soldierly look." "He was a fine soldier, monsieur. Every Frenchman knows his name. In the army he was plain General du Breuil; here in his own country, where we love him, we give him his true title, that has come to him from the days of long ago. Ah! there is great trouble for him. I know that man." "The major?" "Major he may be; spy he was. It is clear. Listen, monsieur. Some three years ago, before monsieur le marquis retired from the army, he had in his service a secretary, said to be an Alsatian, very useful to monsieur, who was compiling his memoirs. One day he was dismissed, none of us knew why. Monsieur le marquis had discovered something, no doubt. There was a violent scene at the château. Monsieur’s son, Captain du Breuil, kicked the secretary down the steps. He came into the village, hired a _calèche_ to drive him to the station, and departed. We have seen no more of him until this day. He is the major." "You are sure?" "It is certain, monsieur. He was then clean shaven, and now wears a moustache, but I know the scar on his cheek." "And you fear he will insult the marquis?" "Worse than that, monsieur. A few days ago monsieur le capitaine, brave soldier like his father, was wounded in action only a mile or two away, when our gallant cuirassiers charged the Bosches and drove them helter-skelter from their trenches. He was found on the field by old Guignet, and carried secretly to the château, and there he lies, horribly hurt by shrapnel." "And now they will make him prisoner?" "That would be bad enough, but I fear worse. The Bosches are brutal to all. What must we expect from a man who has a grudge to pay off, and finds his enemy helpless in his clutches? The major will not forgive his kicking." "It’s a bad look-out, certainly," said Burton. "I like your old general; he came to our help so quickly. But what about my engine?" "Ah, oui, monsieur, it is a pity. I dare not leave the village now. The Bosches passed quickly through here in their retreat a few days ago; I did not expect to see their ugly faces again. You must wait, monsieur. Come into my house, and share our soup. If God pleases, the hounds will go again to-morrow." Burton accepted the good man’s offer of hospitality, and shared a simple meal with him, and his wife, and two wide-eyed children who gazed with interest at the stranger. When the meal was nearly finished, the smith suddenly exclaimed--