But Madeleine was just succeeding, by sheer will-power in swallowing--swallowing down. It--the maniacal desire that had come rushing up from her heart into her head--the strong frenzy of a strong nature--bidding her catch up the great steel harl from the hearth and smash in the heads--not so much of her father and Victor, but of these two men--prototypes of all the other careless, mischievous, hopeless men, that had let Georges be hurt in their insane war. She swallowed, and the fury of that instant was gone, battened down, under control. She replied to Victor in a steady off-hand voice: “Oh no, we have plenty of candles from the English. After all, you might as well light up, Father!” As he did so, the old man asked: “What had he the matter with him, the poor young Baron?” “He had become consumptive, owing to the life.” As the candle took heart and shone, Madeleine’s courage rose to meet the necessity for showing nothing and finding out everything which she deliberately courted. Sure of herself, she said gently: “To which base hospital did you say he was going?” She saw her mistake in a moment. She was not so completely mistress of herself as she had thought. No hospital had been mentioned. But there was nothing subtle about Victor. He was only too pleased to have interested her. He replied: “The English hospital in tents at Naes’ farm, there beside the St. Omer line. Ours are full.” His gossiping talk flickered on like the candle flame--dim and alone. Madeleine and her father said scarcely a word, the former deliberately, wanting to be alone, the latter lacking the habit of speech. As no interest was shown and no further refreshment offered, Victor eventually rose to go. They bade him good night at the door, locked up, and turned to their rooms, with their usual brief word of nightly affection. The old man was snoring directly. Madeleine lay for hours on her back, her eyes burning at the dim ceiling of her little room, her legs and feet straight and rigid, hands clasped on her thumping heart. Surely he was a lucky man for whom she planned and schemed and longed so in her short, hard-earned time of rest! * * * * * The next day Jerome Vanderlynden and Madeleine set out in the dark early morning and reached Hazebrouck before most of the market had foregathered. This the old man understood and agreed to. One got one’s own price by this means from people who were in a hurry. What he did not understand was why Madeleine had on her very best instead of her second best that she usually wore to market, without a hat. Incurious and incapable of challenging her decisions, he said nothing. The stuff sold well. By eight o’clock the basket and receptacles were almost empty. Then Madeleine said: “We must go and see the young baron.” “What do we want to go tra’passin’ over there for?” “Because Victor may be wrong. The Baron and Madame had not heard the other day.” “That’s their affair.”