Remorselessly he replaced the gag, and they left him to his reflections. Returning to the invalid’s room, they consulted in whispers. The captain had closed his eyes. Full of admiration for his self-control in giving no sign of having observed the stealthy approach from the door, Burton hoped that the wounded man might be strong enough to bear removal from the château to the curé’s house, and thence to the British lines. "Can we move him?" he asked Pierre. "Ah, no, monsieur," replied the old man, bending over the bed and gazing with poignancy of affection at the haggard face. "It would kill him." Burton pondered, while Pierre spoke gently to his master’s son and poured wine between his lips. The captain’s eyes were eloquent of gratitude. "There is only one thing to be done," said Burton at last. "Our army is slowly advancing: we must hold the château until it comes." "But, monsieur, it is impossible!" cried the old man. "The Bosches are in the house: they fill the village." "True; but this wing is defensible against anything except artillery, and we have a valuable hostage in the major. Let us see what monsieur le marquis says." They went to the room where they had left the old general and his wife. Burton explained to the former what he had already done, and what he proposed to do. There was a gleam in the old soldier’s eyes. "Ma foi, monsieur, la bonne idée!" he cried. "It makes me young again." Then he glanced at his wife, and his face was full of trouble. "Chérie," he said, "there will be danger. It will be no place for you. Will you not go to the curé’s? It is dark: Pierre would lead you across the fields." "Mon ami," replied the old lady firmly, taking the general’s hand, "my place is with you and with Fernand. Is it for nothing that I am a soldier’s wife?" The marquis pressed her hand; his eyes were moist. "Monsieur, it shall be," he said, simply, turning to Burton. "Will you come with me then, monsieur?" said Burton. "Pierre, bring food and candles from the kitchen, also a chisel if you have one." The marquise returned to her son’s room; Burton, accompanied by the general, made a rapid tour of the floor. The head of the kitchen staircase came to the passage near the door of the servant’s bedroom in which the captain was now laid. The window of the room, overlooking the parterres in front of the house, was opposite the door. There were two doors, one on each side of the passage, opening into rooms both of which communicated with the bedroom. One of these had been temporarily occupied by monsieur and madame; in the other, Major Schwikkard was confined. At the farther end of the passage was a door opening on to a landing, from which the grand staircase descended to the hall below. The general’s experienced eye marked the possibilities of the situation.