The words rang out, soon lost in the vast silence. But one of them went on speaking to Jean Oberlé's heart: "You will go down into France." He was in a hurry to see her, this mysterious France, which held such a large place in his dreams, in his life--she, who had destroyed the unity of his family because the older members, some of them at least, remained faithful to her charms. France, for whom so many Alsatians had died and for whom so many others were waiting and whom they were loving with that silent love which makes hearts sad. So near him--she from whom he had been so jealously kept--she for whom Uncle Ulrich, M. Bastian, his mother, his grandfather Philippe, and thousands and thousands of others said a prayer every night! In a few minutes he had reached the top and begun his descent on the other side. But the trees formed a thick curtain round him. And he began to run to find a road and a free space to see France. He took pleasure in sliding down and letting himself almost fall, head foremost, seeking the desired opening. On this side of the mountain the sun was touching the earth; here and there the air was still warm; but the pines always made a wall. "Halt!" cried a man, showing himself suddenly, and coming out from behind the trunk of a tree. Jean went on running some steps--carried away by the impetus. Then he came back to the customs official who had called to him. Then the man, who was a brigadier, young and squat, with defective eyes, a little wild, two locks of yellow hair framing the thick-set face--the real type of a man of the Vosges, looked at the young man and said: "Why the devil did you run? I thought you were a smuggler." "I was trying to find a place to see a landscape in France...." "Does that interest you? You are from the other side?" "Yes." "Not a Prussian all the same?" "No; an Alsatian." The man smiled slightly and said, "That is better!" But Jean continued without taking up the conversation, and as if he had forgotten his question, to look at this poor officer of France, his face, his uniform, and to photograph them on his mind. The officer seemed amused at his curiosity and said, laughing: "If it is a view you are after, you have only to follow me. I have one which the Government offers me to complete my treatment." They both began to laugh, looking straight into each other's eyes quickly--less for what the customs officer had said than because of a certain sympathy which they felt for each other. "We have no time to lose," said the brigadier, "the sun is dying down."