Charles started. "But the machinery--that is--" "Exactly." "And what is he going to do with the guillotine at Plobsheim?" "He told you; he is going to be married!" Charles pressed Monnet's cold, damp hand and darted out of the room. As though through a blood-red fog he had caught a glimpse of the truth. CHAPTER VII FILIAL LOVE, OR THE WOODEN LEG Charles returned to Madame Teutch's house on a run, like the hare to his form, or the fox to his hole. It was his refuge; once there he thought himself safe; once upon the threshold of the Hôtel de la Lanterne he thought he had nothing more to fear. He asked after his young friend, and learned that he was in his room, where he was taking a fencing-lesson of the sergeant-major of a Strasbourg regiment. This sergeant-major had served under his father, the Marquis de Beauharnais, who had occasion to notice him three or four times for his extreme bravery. As soon as he learned that his son was to go to Strasbourg to seek for papers which might be useful to him, the marquis advised him not to discontinue the exercises which were a part of the education of a young man of good family. He bade him ascertain whether Sergeant Pierre Augereau were still at Strasbourg, and if so, to ask him to practice fencing with him from time to time. Eugene had found Pierre Augereau, but he had become a sergeant-major, and no longer practiced fencing except for his own amusement. As soon, however, as he learned that the young man who wished to take fencing lessons from him was the son of his old general, he insisted upon going to him at the Hôtel de la Lanterne. But what made the sergeant-major especially interested was the fact that in the young man he found, not a pupil, but a master who defended himself wonderfully well against the rough, incoherent play of the old tactician; and, furthermore--a thing which was by no means to be despised--every time he had a fencing-bout with his young pupil, the latter invited him to dinner; and a dinner at the Lanterne was far better than one at the barracks. Pierre Augereau belonged to the regiment which had left the city that morning to give chase to the Austrians, and he had seen his pupil on the rampart, gun in hand. He had saluted him repeatedly with his sabre, but the lad had been too engrossed in sending balls after the Austrians to heed the telegraphic signals of the sergeant-major. From the citizeness Teutch, Augereau had learned how nearly Eugene had escaped being killed; she had shown him the bullet hole, and had told him how the boy had returned shot for shot--a return that had proved fatal to the Austrian. Therefore, Augereau had greatly complimented his pupil, and had been invited to the meal, which, coming between the great noon breakfast and the supper, which is generally eaten at ten in the evening, constitutes the dinner of Germany.