I commanded my escort to be silent. We rode across the park, and half-way to the door we came upon a wire fence and a gate. There we dismounted, and walked our horses. We tethered them to a tree about twenty yards from the house. I ordered one of my dragoons to go round the house, and watch any door which he might find at the back. I told the other two to stay where they were, and I advanced alone to the steps, but before I had reached them the front door was thrown open, and a girl with a lantern in her hand came out. She held the lantern high above her head and peered forward, so that the light fell full upon her hair, her face, and dress. She was a tall girl and slight of figure, with big, dark eyes, and a face pretty and made for laughter. It was very pale now, however, and the brows were drawn together in a frown. She wore a white evening frock, which glistened in the lantern light, and over her bare shoulders she had flung a heavy black military cloak. So she stood and swung the lantern slowly from side to side as she stared into the darkness, while the lights and shadows chased each other swiftly across her white frock, her anxious face, and the waves of her fair hair. "Whom do you expect at this hour, mademoiselle?" I asked. I was quite close to her, but she had not seen me, for I stood at the bottom of the steps, and she was looking out over my head. Yet she did not start or utter any cry. Only the lantern rattled in her hand. Then she stood quite still for a moment or two, and afterwards lowered her arm until the light shone upon me. [Illustration] "You are Prussian?" she said. "A lieutenant of foot," I answered. "You have nothing to fear." "I am not afraid," she replied quietly. "Whom do you expect?" "No one," she replied. "I thought that I heard the rattle of iron as though a horse moved and a stirrup rang. It is lonely here since our neighbours have fled. I came out to see." "The lantern then, was not a signal, mademoiselle?" I asked. She looked at me in perplexity, and certainly the little piece of acting, I thought, was very well done. "A signal?" she repeated. "To whom?" "To some man hiding in the woods of Mont Guichet, a signal to him that he may come and fetch the news for Paris which has lately--very lately--been brought to the house." She bent forward and peered down at me, drawing the cloak closer about her neck. "You are under some strange mistake, monsieur," she said. "No news for Paris has been brought to this house by any one." "Indeed?" I answered. "And is that so?" Then I stretched out my hand and said triumphantly: "You will tell me perhaps that the cloak upon your shoulders is a woman's cloak?" And she laughed! It was humiliating; it is always humiliating to a young man not to be taken seriously, isn't it? There was I thinking that I had fairly cross-examined her into a trap, and she laughed indulgently. And she explained indulgently, too.