"But since then? For, after all, Major Hermann may have caught up with her and succeeded in his designs." "No." "How do you know?" "Through that prisoner. The French lady whom he had seen here he saw this morning." "Where?" "Not far from the frontier, in a village just outside Èbrecourt, under the protection of the man who saved her and who is certainly capable of defending her against Major Hermann." "What's that?" repeated Paul, but in a dull voice this time and with a face distorted with anger. "Prince Conrad, who seems to take his soldiering in a very amateurish spirit--he is looked upon as an idiot, you know, even in his own family--has made Èbrecourt his headquarters and calls on Élisabeth every day. There is no fear, therefore. . . ." But Bernard interrupted himself, and asked in amazement, "Why, what's the matter? You're gray in the face." Paul took his brother-in-law by the shoulders and shouted: "Élisabeth is lost. Prince Conrad has fallen in love with her--we heard that before, you know; and her diary is one long cry of distress--he has fallen in love with her and he never lets go his prey. Do you understand? He will stop at nothing!" "Oh, Paul, I can't believe. . . ." "At nothing, I tell you. He is not only an idiot, but a scoundrel and a blackguard. When you read the diary you will understand. . . . But enough of words, Bernard. What we have to do is to act and to act at once, without even taking time to reflect." "What do you propose?" "To snatch Élisabeth from that man's clutches, to deliver her." "Impossible." "Impossible? We are not eight miles from the place where my wife is a prisoner, exposed to that rascal's insults, and you think that I am going to stay here with my arms folded? Nonsense! We must show that we have blood in our veins! To work, Bernard! And if you hesitate I shall go alone." "You will go alone? Where?" "To Èbrecourt. I don't want any one with me. I need no assistance. A German uniform will be enough. I shall cross the frontier in the dark. I shall kill the enemies who have to be killed and to-morrow morning Élisabeth shall be here, free." Bernard shook his head and said, gently: "My poor Paul!" "What do you mean?" "I mean that I should have been the first to agree and that we should have rushed to Élisabeth's rescue together, without counting the risk. Unfortunately. . . ." "What?" "Well, it's this, Paul: there is no intention on our side of taking a more vigorous offensive. They've sent for reserve and territorial regiments; and we are leaving." "Leaving?" stammered Paul, in dismay. "Yes, this evening. Our division is to start from Corvigny this evening and go I don't know where . . . to Rheims, perhaps, or Arras. North and west, in short. So you see, my poor chap, your plan can't be realized. Come, buck up. And don't look so distressed. It breaks my heart to see you. After all, Élisabeth isn't in danger. She will know how to defend herself. . . ."