undecided and worried.

He said to her:

"Don't you agree with me? Or do you think I ought to wait till
to-morrow?..."

She opened the door for him to pass:

"No," she said, "you are right."

She often had those unexpected movements which cut short hesitation and
put you face to face with events. Another would have launched out into
words. But Marthe never shirked responsibility, even where it concerned
but the smallest facts of ordinary life. Philippe used to laugh and
call it her daily heroism.

He kissed her and felt strengthened by her confidence.

Downstairs, he was told that his father was not yet back and he resolved
to wait for him in the drawing-room. He lit a cigarette, let it go out
again and, at first in a spirit of distraction and then with a growing
interest, looked around him, as though he were trying to gather from
inanimate objects particulars relating to the man who lived in their
midst.

He examined the rack containing the twelve rifles. They were all loaded,
ready for service. Against what foe?

He saw the flag which he had so often gazed upon in the old house at
Saint-Elophe, the old, torn flag whose glorious history he knew so well.

He saw the maps hanging on the wall, all of which traced the frontier in
its smallest details, together with the country adjoining it on either
side of the Vosges.

He bent over the shelves of the little book-case and read the titles of
the works: _The War of 1870, prepared in the historical section of the
German General Staff_; _The Retreat of Bourbaki_; _The Way to prepare
our Revenge_; _The Crime of the Peace-at-any-Price Party_....

But one volume caught his attention more particularly. It was his own
book on the idea of country. He turned the pages and, seeing that some
of them were covered and scored with pencil-marks, he sat down and began
to read:

"It's as I thought," he muttered, presently. "How are he and I to
understand each other henceforth? What common ground is there between
us? I cannot expect him to accept my ideas. And how can I submit to
his?"

He went on reading and noticed comments the harshness of which
distressed him beyond measure. Twenty minutes passed in this way,
disturbed by no sound but that of the leaves which he turned as he read.

And, suddenly, he felt two bare arms round his head, two cool, bare arms
stroking his face. He tried to release himself. The two arms clasped him
all the tighter.

He made an abrupt effor