"--he had never before called Madeleine Baudoin "my
sister"--"because of Claire's children, of Clairette and Jacqueline.
Their mother would not wish a slur to rest upon them."

She looked at him with piteous, hunted eyes. But she knew that she must
do what he asked.

IV

Jacques de Wissant sat at his desk in the fine old room which is set
aside for the mayor's sole use in the town hall of Falaise.

He was waiting for Admiral de Saint Vilquier, whom he had summoned on
the plea of a matter both private and urgent. In his note, of which he
had written more than one draft, he had omitted none of the punctilio
usual in French official correspondence, and he had asked pardon, in the
most formal language, for asking the Admiral to come to him, instead of
proposing to go to the Admiral.

The time that had elapsed since he had parted from his sister-in-law had
seemed like years instead of hours, and yet every moment of those hours
had been filled with action.

From the Chalet des Dunes Jacques had made his way straight to the
Pavillon de Wissant, and there his had been the bitter task of lying to
his household.

They had accepted unquestioningly his statement that their mistress,
without waiting even to go home, had left the Chalet des Dunes with her
sister for Italy owing to the arrival of sudden worse news from Mantua.

While Claire's luggage was being by his orders hurriedly prepared, he
had changed his clothes; and then, overcome with mortal weariness, with
sick, sombre suspense, he had returned to Falaise, taking the railway
station on his way to the town hall, and from there going through the
grim comedy of despatching his wife's trunks to Paris.

Since the day war was declared by France on Germany, there had never
been at the town hall of Falaise so busy an afternoon. Urgent messages
of inquiry and condolence came pouring in from all over the civilized
world, and the mayor had to compose suitable answers to them all.

To him there also fell the painful duty of officially announcing to the
crowd surging impatiently in the market place--though room in front was
always made and kept for those of the fisher folk who had relatives in
the submarine service--that it was the _Neptune_ which had gone down.

He had seen the effect of that announcement painted on rough, worn,
upturned faces; he had heard the cries of anger, the groans of despair
of the few, and had witnessed the relief, the tears of joy of the many.
B