eous cessation of all the organs at work. And, suddenly, a voice
was heard on the threshold:

"_They_ have crossed the frontier! Two of them have crossed the
frontier!"

And Victor exclaimed:

"And there are more coming! You can see their helmets.... They are
coming! They are in France!"

The women fell on their knees. One of them moaned:

"O God, have pity on us!"

Marthe had joined Philippe at the terrace-door and they heard Captain
Daspry repeating in a low voice, with an accent of despair:

"Yes, they are in France ... they have crossed the frontier."

"They are in France, Philippe," said Marthe, taking her husband's hand.

And she felt his hand tremble.

Drawing himself up quickly, the captain commanded:

"Not a shot!... Let no one show himself!"

The order flew from mouth to mouth and silence and immobility reigned in
the Old Mill, from one end to the other of the house and grounds. Each
one stood at his post. All along the wall, the soldiers kept themselves
hidden, perched upright on their improvised talus.

At that moment, one of the drawing-room doors opened and old Morestal
appeared on his wife's arm. Dressed in a pair of trousers and a
waistcoat, bare-headed, tangle-haired, with a handkerchief fastened
round his neck, he staggered on his wavering legs. Nevertheless, a sort
of gladness, like an inward smile, lighted his features.

"Let me be," he said to his wife, who was endeavouring to support him.

He steadied his gait and walked to the gun-rack, where the twelve rifles
stood in a row.

He took out one with feverish haste, felt it, with the touch of a
sportsman recognizing his favourite weapon, passed in front of Philippe,
without appearing to see him, and went out on the terrace.

"You, M. Morestal!" said Captain Daspry.

Pointing to the frontier, the old man asked:

"Are they there?"

"Yes."

"Are you making a resistance?"

"Yes."

"Are there many of them?"

"There are twenty to one."

"If so ...?"

"We've got to."

"But ..."

"We've got to, M. Morestal; and be easy, we shall stand our ground....
I'm certain of it."

Morestal said, in a low voice:

"Remember what I told you, captain.... The road is undermined at two
hundred yards from the terrace.... A match and ..."

"Oh," protested the officer, "I hope it won't come to that! I am
expecting relief."

"Very well!" said Morestal. "But anything rather than let them come up
to the Old Mill!"

"They won't come up