Fatal name! No sooner had Lieutenant von Bernhausen heard it than he despatched to us his second self, the sergeant Marquis, _alias_ Sainte-Brute. For, as no one can doubt, Bouillot had about him worthy followers--this sergeant, Sainte-Brute, as much dreaded as his master, and a few other hussars, "he loved above all," as Victor Hugo says. Was it "for their great courage and their huge size"? I do not know, but for their ferocity in any case, their want of scruple, their hatred of France. Among them he reckoned "the Blackguard," a vicious lad with a pink and white complexion; "Rabbit's Paw," who looked like a degenerate fool, with a long bovine face; and the "Japanese," whose slanting, spiteful eyes were always laughing. One evening, when all the inhabitants of the village had locked up their houses, a loud ring was heard at our gate. This made our hearts beat quickly. "So late, O heavens! what do they want?" We ran out, and soon showed in Sainte-Brute, attended by two soldiers. Like a conqueror he walked up the steps and entered the dining-room. He showed his best graces, his small moustache was curled up, his cloak put on after the Spanish fashion, his cap roguishly set on one side. A paper in his hands, he made a show of his fingers--he had well-kept nails, I must acknowledge. Mme. Valaine, Geneviève, and I stood and waited. A night-light illumined the scene. "It is six o'clock," the under-officer announced. "Everybody must be at home. I want to see all the inhabitants of this house." Come along, then! Let him count us; set the family in a row; it is fair-day; the Germans are amusing themselves! The girls came in reluctantly with fury-flashing eyes. Sainte-Brute thought the light too weak; he pointed his electric lamp at us, and one after another scanned our hostile faces; then he declared: "The 'population' say that you often go to Laon without passports." "If the population say so, it is lying. In the last ten days we have been but once to Laon, and here is the passport you gave us yourself." "Hum, hum, the population...." Sainte-Brute seemed to hesitate. The Blackguard plucked him by the sleeve: "Come, come...." "Mind, you have had your warning," the sergeant concluded by saying. "It is strictly forbidden to travel without leave from the military authorities." Satisfied with his speech, the man withdrew. He took a careful survey of the lobby, opened the kitchen door, cast his light in every direction. He seemed to take a great interest in the copper of the saucepans. Yet he went out, followed by his acolytes. Their steps resounded in the street. We bolted the door, and an hour after had not recovered from the emotion. What was the meaning of this visit?