“The American, Lieutenant Scott, Mademoiselle,” said Picard respectfully.

John saw her little start of surprise, but when she stood up she was quite self-possessed.  Her color was a little deeper than usual, but it might be the luminous glow from the stained-glass windows, or the cloak of dark red which wrapped her from chin to feet may have given that added touch.

She had been weary and anxious, and John thought he detected a gleam of welcome in her glance.  At least it pleased him to think so.  The stern Suzanne had given him a startled look, but the glance seemed to John less hostile than it used to be.

“I was told, Miss Lannes,” said John in English, “that you had received a letter from your brother, Philip, to meet him here in Chastel.  One Weber, an Alsatian, an able and trustworthy man whom I know, gave me the news.”

It had often been his habit, when speaking his own language, to call her, American fashion, “Miss” instead of “Mademoiselle,” and now she smiled at the little, remembered touch.

“It was Mr. Weber who brought the letter to me in Paris, Mr. Scott,” she said.  “You know it was my wish to serve our brave soldiers hurt in battle, and I was not surprised that the letter from Philip should come.”

“In what manner did you arrive here?”

“In a small automobile.  It is standing behind the cathedral now.  Antoine is an excellent driver.  But, Oh, Mr. Scott, it has been a strange and lonely ride!  Once we thought we were going to be captured.  As we passed through a forest Antoine was quite sure that he caught a gleam of German lances far away, but much too near for assurance, and he drove the motor forward at a great rate.”

“And then you arrived in Chastel?”

“Yes, Mr. Scott, then we came to Chastel.”

“But you did not see what you expected to see.”

She shivered and the brilliant color left her face for a moment.

“No, Mr. Scott, I did not find what I thought would be here.  Philip had not come, but that did not alarm me so much, and I knew that for awhile the snow had made the flight of aeroplanes impossible.  No, it was not the absence of Philip that filled me with terror.  Surely when he sent for me he did not anticipate such fighting as must have occurred here so recently.”

“He would never have drawn you into danger.”

“I know it, and that is why I am so puzzled and so full of apprehension.  The sight of Chastel appalls me and it has had its influence upon Antoine and Suzanne, strong as they are.  We saw ruins, Mr. Scott, the terrible path of battle, and no human being until you came.”

“I had the same feeling myself, nor did I see life either until I met Antoine, Miss Julie, if I may call you so instead of Miss Lannes?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Scott.  But what does it mean?  Why haven’t the people come back?”

They were still talking in English, and Suzanne’s customary look had returned to her face in all its grimness, but they went on, unmindful of her.