"It's what I've been shouting from the house-tops for the last two days!" proclaimed Victor, who seemed greatly excited. "Oughtn't we to make preparations, here? At two steps from the frontier?" But a bell rang. Catherine ran to the drawing-room, where Mme. Morestal appeared: "Where were you? I have been looking for you. Hasn't the doctor been? Oh, there you are, Philippe! Quick, telephone to the doctor...." "Is my father ...?" "Your father is better; but, all the same, he's sleeping longer than he ought.... It may be the morphia.... You had better telephone." She left the room. Philippe was taking down the receiver, when some one tapped him on the shoulder. It was Victor, whose excitement was increasing every moment and who asked him with a perplexed air: "What are we to do, M. Philippe? Are we going to stay here? Or go away and shut up the house? The mistress does not realize ..." And, without waiting for the answer, he turned round: "Isn't it so, Catherine, the mistress does not realize.... The master's quite well again.... Well, then, they should make up their minds!..." "Of course, one must be prepared for everything," said the maid-servant. "Suppose the enemy invade us?" They both of them walked up and down the drawing-room, opening the doors, shutting them again, making gestures through the window. An old woman entered, an old woman who was employed at the Old Mill as a charwoman. She waved her arms about: "Is it true? Is it true? Are we going to war? And my son, the youngest, who is with his regiment?... And the other, who is in the reserve?... Is it true? No, tell me it's not true! It's all nonsense they're talking!" "Nonsense, indeed!" said the gardener's wife, appearing on the scene. "You'll soon see if it's nonsense!... They'll all have to go ... my husband too, who's in the reserve of veterans." She was accompanied by a child of three or four years old and in her arms carried another, in swaddling-clothes, who was whimpering. "Of course they'll have to go," said Victor. "And what about me? You'll see, they'll call me to the colours, though I'm past the age!... You'll see!..." "You as well as the rest," grinned the gardener, who now entered in his turn. "As long as one can hold a rifle.... But our eldest, Henriot, who's sixteen: do you think they'll forget him?" "Oh, as for him," scolded the mother, "I shall hide him if they try to take him from me!" "And what about the gendarmes?" All were gesticulating and talking together. And Victor repeated: "Meantime, we had better be off. Shut up the house and go. That's the wisest. We can't remain here like this, at two steps from the frontier." In his eyes, war represented the disordered flight of the old men and the women, running away in herds and pushing before them carts loaded with furniture and bedding. And he stamped his foot, resolved upon making an immediate move.