roth from his moustache.

Under the pretext of stretching his legs, Loiseau went out and palmed
off his wines on the country retail dealers. The Count and the
manufacturer talked politics. They forecast the future of France, the
one putting his faith in the Orleans, the other in an unknown savior, a
hero who would come to the fore when things were at their very worst--a
Du Guesclin, a Joan of Arc perhaps, or even another Napoleon I. Ah, if
only the Prince Imperial were not so young! Cornudet listened to them
with the smile of a man who could solve the riddle of Fate if he would.
His pipe perfumed the whole kitchen with its balmy fragrance.

On the stroke of ten Monsieur Follenvie made his appearance. They
instantly attacked him with questions, but he had but one answer which
he repeated two or three times without variation. "The officer said to
me, 'Monsieur Follenvie, you will forbid them to harness the horses for
these travelers to-morrow morning. They are not to leave till I give my
permission. You understand?' That is all."

They demanded to see the officer; the Count sent up his card, on which
Monsieur Carre-Lamadon added his name and all his titles. The Prussian
sent word that he would admit the two men to his presence after he had
lunched, that is to say, about one o'clock.

The ladies came down and they all managed to eat a little in spite of
their anxiety. Boule de Suif looked quite ill and very much agitated.

They were just finishing coffee when the orderly arrived to fetch the
two gentlemen.

Loiseau joined them, but when they proposed to bring Cornudet along to
give more solemnity to their proceedings, he declared haughtily that
nothing would induce him to enter into any communication whatsoever with
the Germans, and he returned to his chimney-corner and ordered another
bottle of beer.

The three men therefore went upstairs without him, and were shown into
the best room of the inn, where they were received by the officer
lolling in an armchair, his heels on the chimney-piece, smoking a long
porcelain pipe, and arrayed in a flamboyant dressing-gown, taken, no
doubt, from the abandoned dwelling-house of some bourgeois of inferior
taste. He did not rise, he vouchsafed them no greeting of any
description, he did not even look at them--a brilliant sample of the
victorious military cad.

At last after some moments waiting he said: "Vat do you vant?"

The Count acted as spokesman.

"We wish to leave, M