CHAPTER XII.

WHEN THE CAT’S AWAY.

Ten days after the sudden departure of Madame Clemenceau from her residence, a little before daybreak, Hedwig came down through the house to draw up the blinds and open the windows.  She carried a small night-lamp and was not more than half awake.

It was the noise of the great invention which had turned the tranquil group of villas and cherry orchards into a rendezvous for the singular admixture of artilleries and scientific luminaries.  The peaceful villa entertained a selection of them nightly and it is astonishing how heartily the military men ate and the professors drank, for the enthusiasm had turned all heads.

Hedwig entered the fine old drawing-room where the symposium had been held.  It was a capacious room, not unlike an English baronial hall, the doorways and windows were furnished with old Gobelin tapestry and the heavy furniture was of mahogany, imported when France drew generously on her colonies.  The long table had been roughly cleared after supper by the summary process of bundling all the plates up in the cloth.  On it had been replaced, for the final debate, drawings and models of the guns considered absolute after the novel Clemenceau Cannon.  On a pedestal-pillar stood a large clock, representing, with figures at the base, the forge of Vulcan; his Cyclops had hammered off six strokes a little preceding the servant’s entrance.

“A quarter past six,” she said, yawning.  “It will soon be light.”

She drew the curtains and pulled the cord which caused the shade to roll itself up in each of the three tall windows, before returning to the table where she had left her now useless lamp.  With a half-terrified look, she began to arrange the pretty little cannon, exquisitely modeled in nickel and bronze, and miniature shot, shell, chain-shot, etc., which she handled with a curiosity rather instinctive than studied.  In the midst of her mechanically executed work, she was startled by a gentle rapping on the plate-glass of a window.  The sight of a face in the grey morning glimmer startled her still more, but, luckily, she recognized it.  After hesitation, she crossed the room in surprise and unbolted the two sashes, which opened like double doors.

“Hedwig!” said a woman’s voice warily speaking, “open to me!”

The girl held the sashes widely apart, muttering: 

“The mistress! why the mischief has she come back when we were getting on so nicely.”

But, letting the new-comer pass her, she tried to smoothe her face, and don the smile as stereotyped in servants as in ballet-dancers, while she continued the letting in of the daylight to gain time to recover her countenance.