“Not now, Antoine,” said Julie, “but we will later.  I’m glad to see, though, that you are making the best of it.  You show a spirit worthy of a Picard.”

Picard bowed and smiled with gratification.  John suggested that they look upstairs for rooms, and then, after putting them in order, they could return for dinner.  But before ascending the grand stairway, they lighted several candles which Suzanne had found, and put them at convenient places.  They were not sufficient to illuminate the interior of the hotel, but they threw a soft glow which John found warm and pleasing.

Above was the main drawing-room, and a great array of guest chambers, continued also on the third floor, which was the last.  John selected the best suite, looking over the river, for Julie and also for Suzanne, who, under the circumstances, must remain with her.  A running water system had not been installed in the houses of Chastel but the great pitchers were filled, and the stalwart Suzanne could easily bring more.  They were good rooms, perhaps with an excess of gilt and glass after the continental fashion, but they were comfortable, and John said to Julie: 

“Maybe you’d like to remain here a half-hour or so, while Antoine and I choose a place for ourselves.  It’s best that the members of our party remain close together in view of possible emergencies.”

“Yes, Suzanne and I will stay,” said Julie.  “I felt no weariness a few moments ago, but I’ve grown suddenly tired.  A short rest will restore me.”

“Very well,” said John.  “I bid you a brief au revoir, and when you hear a knock on your sitting-room door don’t be alarmed, because it will be Antoine and I returning.  Come, Antoine, we’ll let the ladies rest while you and I look for the state apartments for ourselves.”

Picard permitted a grin to pass over his broad face.  His heart belonged to his daughter Suzanne and the Lannes family, and it was not moved easily by outsiders.  Yet, this young John Scott from across the sea was beginning to find a favorable place in his mind.  He spoke good French, he fought well for the French, he was highly esteemed by Monsieur Philip, he had done great service for Mademoiselle Julie and in the present crisis he was a tower of strength for them all.  His daughter, Suzanne, regarded young Scott with a certain fear, but he, Antoine, could not share it.  Henceforth John would have his distinct approval, and he felt a measure of pride in being now his comrade in danger.

When John had closed the door of the sitting-room and he knew that neither Julie nor Suzanne could hear him, he said: 

“Picard, have you any weapon?”

Picard drew a heavy automatic revolver from the pocket of his jacket.

“Before I started I provided myself with this, knowing the dangers of the journey,” he replied.

“Good, but don’t use it, except in the last resort.  Remember how near you came to execution as a franc-tireur.”