When he had shut the door behind her, she placed herself before him, and her face quite white in the light of the window, her eyes fixed on the eyes of her child: "You quite understood--did you not--what grandfather wished to say?" "Yes." She tried to smile, and it was heart-breaking to see this effort of a tortured soul. "Yes. He cried: 'Go away!' It is a word he often used to say to strangers. He was addressing M. von Kassewitz. You do not think so?" Jean shook his head. "But, my darling, he could not 'address others so!'" "Pardon; he meant it for me." "You are mad! You are the best friends in the world, you and your grandfather." "Just so." "He did not wish to turn you out of the room?" "No." "Then?" "He was ordering me to leave the house." "Jean!" "And for all that, the poor man was delighted to see me come back to it." Jean would not look at his mother now, because tears had gushed from Madame Oberlé's eyes, because she had come close to him, because she had taken his hands. "No, Jean, no; he could not have meant that, I assure you; you do not understand. In any case, you will not do it! Say that you will never do it." She waited for the answer, which did not come. "Jean, for pity's sake answer me! Promise me that you will not leave us! Oh! what would the house be without my son now? I have only you--you do not think I am miserable enough then? Jean, look at me!" He could not wholly resist her. She saw the eyes of her son looking at her tenderly. "I love you with all my heart," said Jean. "I know it; but do not go away!" "I pity you and respect you." "Do not go away!" And as he said no more she moved away. "You will promise nothing. You are hard--you also are like----" She was going to say "Like your father." Jean thought: "I can give her some weeks of peace; I owe them to her." And trying to smile in his turn said: "I promise you, mamma, to be at St. Nicholas's Barracks on October 1st--I promise you. Are you pleased?" She shook her head. But he, kissing her on the brow, not wishing to say anything more, left her in haste. * * * * * The town of Alsheim was occupying itself with the scene which had taken place at M. Oberlé's. Through the torrid evening heat, amidst the fertile dust of the cut wheat, of the pollen of flowers, of dried moss which was blown from one field to another, the men came home on foot; the children and young people came on horseback, and the tails of the horses were gold, or silver, or black, or fire-coloured in the burning light which the setting sun cast over the shoulder of the Vosges. Women were waiting for their husbands on the thresholds, and when they drew near, went to meet them in their haste to spread such important news. "You do not know what has happened at the works. They will speak about it for a long time! It seems that old M. Philippe found his voice in his anger, and that he drove the Prussian out!" Many of the peasants said: