Madeleine saw the lever put over, and the ponderous machine of another generation roar away upon the cobbles, its single cylinder panting desperately. Then she felt indeed disturbed, as though she had been forced to part with a conviction. * * * * * As she went back to the farm through the fairy beauty of the evening--(were ever evenings so beautiful as those of the April retreat?)--her step was no less firm, her glance as calm, as usual. Passing over the plank bridge, and entering the house by the back, she was confronted by the spectacle of Berthe in her best hat, with a bundle. “I’m going!” said the apparition simply. “What has come over you?” “After you were gone, an English wagon came, all full of people from Armentières way. The secretary of Nieppe told the patron that the Bosche are in Laventie, and that Marie has left, so the Patron has taken the tumbril and gone after her potatoes!” Madeleine was at no loss. She even approved the old man’s determination. Only she considered that it would have been better for her to go. “You stay here,” she said. “I’m going up to the château to borrow the young Baron’s bicycle!” She knew well enough that Georges’ machine was stowed away in the coachhouse. On that she could catch her father, and send him back. But she had not reckoned up the situation. “No,” said Berthe, “I’m going!” “Why, you’re not frightened like that silly lot from Armentières?” But the terror-stricken faces and bandaged heads of those civilians in the lorry, who had so narrowly escaped the battle, had broken Berthe’s nerve--which was never the equal of Madeleine’s. She shouldered her bundle. “I’m going!” she said simply. Madeleine was not accustomed to being disobeyed, and there is no knowing what she might not have done had she not been in a hurry herself. “Very well, go then! Tell the Picquart family to lock up the sheds. I’m going after the patron!” “The Picquarts are gone, this half-hour, with their things in the wheelbarrow!” Just then the breeze that stirs at dusk blew open the door, and there entered into the darkening passage with startling nearness the rat-tat-tat-tat-tat of German machine guns. Madeleine flung away: “Go and burst yourselves as quick as possible, heap of dirtiness!” she cried, and set off at a run for the château.