The Count, surprised, questioned the beadle who was coming out of the presbytery.  The old Church rat replied:—­“Oh, those here are not bad; they are not Prussians, according to what I hear.  They come from farther off, I don’t know exactly where; and they have all left wives and children at home; they are not so fond of war, I assure you; I am positive that over there they are mourning for their men; and war will cause them much distress, as it does us.  Here at least we are not so badly off for the present, because the soldiers don’t harm us and they work as if they were in their own houses.  You see, Sir, we poor people, must help each other.  It is the wealthy ones who make war.”

Cornudet, indignant at the cordial understanding established between the conquerors and the conquered, went away, preferring to shut himself up in the inn.  Loiseau cracked a joke:  “They are re-peopling the country.”  Mr. Carre-Lamadon, more serious, interjected:—­“They are repairing.”  But they could not find the driver.  Finally they discovered him in the village Cafe, fraternizing and drinking with the orderly of the Prussian Officer.  The Count interpolated: 

—­“Didn’t you have orders to have the coach ready for eight o’clock?”

—­“Oh yes, but I have received other orders since.”

—­“What orders?”

—­“Not to harness the horses at all.”

—­“Who gave you that order?”

—­“Upon my faith, the Prussian Commander.”

—­“Why?”

—­“I don’t know.  Go and ask him.  I am forbidden to harness the horses and I don’t; that is all there is to it.”

—­“Did he tell you so himself?”

—­“No.  Sir, it is the inn-keeper that gave me the order for him.”

—­“When did he give it?”

—­“Last night, just as I was going to bed!”

The three men became quite alarmed.

They called for Monsieur Follenvie, but the servant told them that on account of his asthma, that gentleman never got up before ten o’clock.  He had even left formal orders not to wake him up earlier, except in case of fire.

They wanted to see the officer, but it was absolutely impossible, although he lodged in the inn.  Mr. Follenvie only was authorized to speak to him about civil matters.  Then they waited.  The women went up to their rooms and got busy with their trifles.

Cornudet sat down and made himself comfortable in front of the high fireplace of the kitchen, in which a big fire was blazing.  He had one of the small tables of the Cafe brought there, ordered a jug of beer, and drew out his pipe which, among the democrats, enjoyed a consideration almost equal to his own, as if it had served the country in serving Cornudet.  It was a superb meerschaum pipe, admirably blackened, as black as its master’s teeth, but fragrant, nicely curved, shining, familiar to his hand, and completing his physiognomy.  And he remained still, his eyes fixed now on the flame of the fire, now on the foam crowning his jug; and every time, after he had drunk, he passed, with an air of satisfaction, his thin, long fingers in his flowing greasy hair, while he sucked his mustache fringed with foam.