Marthe had joined Philippe at the terrace-door and they heard Captain Daspry repeating in a low voice, with an accent of despair: "Yes, they are in France ... they have crossed the frontier." "They are in France, Philippe," said Marthe, taking her husband's hand. And she felt his hand tremble. Drawing himself up quickly, the captain commanded: "Not a shot!... Let no one show himself!" The order flew from mouth to mouth and silence and immobility reigned in the Old Mill, from one end to the other of the house and grounds. Each one stood at his post. All along the wall, the soldiers kept themselves hidden, perched upright on their improvised talus. At that moment, one of the drawing-room doors opened and old Morestal appeared on his wife's arm. Dressed in a pair of trousers and a waistcoat, bare-headed, tangle-haired, with a handkerchief fastened round his neck, he staggered on his wavering legs. Nevertheless, a sort of gladness, like an inward smile, lighted his features. "Let me be," he said to his wife, who was endeavouring to support him. He steadied his gait and walked to the gun-rack, where the twelve rifles stood in a row. He took out one with feverish haste, felt it, with the touch of a sportsman recognizing his favourite weapon, passed in front of Philippe, without appearing to see him, and went out on the terrace. "You, M. Morestal!" said Captain Daspry. Pointing to the frontier, the old man asked: "Are they there?" "Yes." "Are you making a resistance?" "Yes." "Are there many of them?" "There are twenty to one." "If so ...?" "We've got to." "But ..." "We've got to, M. Morestal; and be easy, we shall stand our ground.... I'm certain of it." Morestal said, in a low voice: "Remember what I told you, captain.... The road is undermined at two hundred yards from the terrace.... A match and ..." "Oh," protested the officer, "I hope it won't come to that! I am expecting relief." "Very well!" said Morestal. "But anything rather than let them come up to the Old Mill!" "They won't come up. It's out of the question that they should come up before the arrival of the French troops." "Good! As long as the Old Mill remains in our hands, they won't be able to man the heights and threaten Saint-Elophe." They could plainly see columns of infantry winding along the Col du Diable. There, they divided and one part of the men turned towards the Butte-aux-Loups, while the others--consisting of the greater number, for this was evidently the enemy's object--went down towards the Etang-des Moines, to seize the high-road. These disappeared for a moment, hidden by the bend of the ground. The captain said to Morestal: "Once the road is held and the assault begins, it will be impossible to get away.... It would be better, therefore, for the ladies ... and for you yourself ..." Morestal gave him such a look that the officer did not insist: