ay into a room ventilated by only a single narrow window.
"Wait here," she said. She closed the door and John heard the huge
German key turning in the lock. But the slit of a window was open, and
he saw in the room two beds, a table, two chairs and some other
furniture. The ceiling was low and sloping and John knew that they were
directly under the eaves.
Lannes threw himself into one of the chairs and drew several mighty
breaths.
"We're locked in, John," he said, "but it's for our good. Nobody can get
at us, while Madame Crocheville holds the key, and she'll hold it. More
than two hundred years on German soil, and still French, heart and soul.
There must be something great and true in France, when she can inspire
such far-flung devotion. That isn't a bad place, John. As the French
general said in the Crimea, _'J'y suis, j'y reste'_ and I'm resting
now."
"She knows all about you, I take it?"
"Of course. I've been here before, often. That little window looks out
into a tiny court, and you'd probably be amazed at the amount of luxury
to be found in this place. This old Europe of ours is often far better
than it looks."
"I didn't see the man of the house."
"Oh, yes you did. Frau Krochburg or Madame Crocheville, if you wish
secretly to call her so, is very much the man of the house. There is a
Herr Krochburg, but he won't come in our way now. Madame will do
everything for us at present. I've touched a spark of fire to her soul,
and it has blazed up. Those Huguenots of long ago were really
republicans, and it's republican France now, for the success of which
she prays with every breath she draws."
"She's locked us in pretty securely. I heard that big German key turn."
"To keep others from getting at us. Not to keep us from getting out.
Now, I hear it turning again, and I'll wager that she's coming back with
something that will rejoice us to the core."
The door opened and Madame Crocheville walked into the room, bearing a
large tray which she placed upon a chair until she could close and lock
the door again. Then she bore it to the table and John looked at it with
great longing. He was young, he was healthy and he had a digestion
beyond criticism.
"I told you so," exclaimed Lannes triumphantly, "and look, Madame
Crocheville has brought us her best--a bottle of the light, white wine
made in this very district, and good! You can dismiss your American
scruples--it's very mild--filet of beef, tender, too,
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