Loiseau, under pretence of stretching his legs, went out to sell wine to the dealers of the village.  The Count and the manufacturer began to talk politics.  They were forecasting France’s future.  The one kept faith in the Orleans dynasty, the other expected an unknown savior, a hero who would rise up when everything was desperate:  a Duguseclin, a Jeanne d’Arc perhaps? or another Napoleon the Great?—­“Ah! if the Imperial Prince had not been so young!”—­Cornudet listening to their conversation, was smiling as a man who holds the keys to destiny.—­His pipe perfumed the whole kitchen.

As it was striking ten o’clock, Mr. Follenvie appeared.  He was immediately questioned, but he only repeated two or three times, without any variation, the following words:—­“The Officer told me so!”—­“Monsieur Follenvie, you will forbid the driver to harness up the coach of these travelers to-morrow morning.  I don’t want them to go without my order.  You understand?  That is enough!”

Then they wanted to see the Officer.  The Count sent in his card on which Mr. Carre-Lamadon added his own name and all his titles.  The Prussian sent word that the two men would be admitted to speak to him after he had had his luncheon, that is to say about one o’clock.

The ladies came down, and they all had a bite, in spite of their anxiety.  Boule de Suif seemed to be sick and prodigiously worried.

They were finishing their coffee, when the orderly came to call the gentlemen.  Loiseau joined the first two, but as they tried to induce Cornudet to go with them in order to add more solemnity to their application, he declared proudly that he expected not to have any intercourse with the Germans; and he resumed his seat near the fire-place, ordering another jug of beer.

The three men went up and were ushered into the finest room of the inn, in which the Officer received them, stretched on an armchair, his feet resting on the mantelpiece, and smoking a long porcelain pipe, wrapped in a flamboyant dressing-robe, no doubt stolen from the abandoned residence of some bourgeois lacking in taste.  He did not get up, neither did he greet them nor look at them.  He was a magnificent specimen of the insolence natural to victorious soldiers.

After a few seconds, he said in his defective French: 

—­“What do you want?”

The Count spoke:—­“We wish to continue our journey, Sir.”

—­“No!”

—­“May I inquire what is the reason for this refusal?”

—­“Because I don’t want.”

—­“I would respectfully call your attention to the fact, Sir, that your General in chief has delivered us a permit to go to Dieppe, and I don’t think we did anything to deserve your rigors.”

—­“I don’t want to let you go, that is all; you may retire!”

Having bowed, all three retired.