The Frontier Part 27

The remainder of that day pa.s.sed peacefully at the Old Mill. Suzanne arrived from Borsweilen at nightfall, looking radiant. They had given her a letter from her father and she would be authorized to see him on Sat.u.r.day.

"You will not even have to go back to Borsweilen," said Morestal. "Your father will come to fetch you here, won't he, Philippe?"

Dinner brought them all five together under the family lamp; and they experienced a feeling of relaxation, comfort and repose. They drank to the special commissary's health. And it seemed to them as if his place were not even empty, so great was the certainty with which they expected his return.

Philippe was the only one who did not share in the general gaiety.

Sitting beside Marthe and opposite Suzanne, he was bound, with his upright nature and his sane judgment, to suffer at finding himself situated in such a false position. Since the night before last, since the moment when he had left Suzanne while the dawning light of day stole into her room at Saint-elophe, this was the first instant that he had had any sort of time to conjure up the memory of those unnerving hours.

Alarmed by the course of events, obsessed by his anxiety about the way in which he was to act, his one and only thought of Suzanne had been how not to compromise her.

Now, he saw her before him. He heard her laugh and talk. She lived in his presence, not as he had known her in Paris and found her at Saint-elophe, but adorned with a different charm, of which he knew the mysterious secret. True, he remained master of himself and he clearly felt that no temptation would induce him to succ.u.mb a second time. But could he help it that she had fair hair, the colour of which bewitched him, and quivering lips and a voice melodious as a song? And could he help it that all this filled him with an emotion which every minute that pa.s.sed made more profound?

Their eyes met. Suzanne trembled under Philippe's gaze. A sort of bashfulness decked her as with a veil that gives added beauty to its wearer. She was as desirable as a wife and as winsome as a bride.

At that moment, Marthe smiled to Philippe. He turned red and thought:

"I shall go away to-morrow."

His decision was taken then and there. He would not remain a day longer between the two women. The mere sight of their intimacy was hateful to him. He would go away without a word. He knew the danger of leave-takings between people who love, knew how they soften us and disarm us. He wanted none of those compromises and evasions. Temptation, even if we resist it, is a fault in itself.

When dinner was over, he stood up and went to his bedroom, where Marthe joined him. He learnt from her that Suzanne's room was on the same floor. Later, he heard the young girl come upstairs. But he knew that nothing would make him fall again.

As soon as he was alone, he opened his window, sat a long time staring at the vague outlines of the trees, then undressed and went to bed.

In the morning, Marthe brought him his letters. He at once recognized the writing of a friend on one of the envelopes:

"Good!" he said, jumping at the pretext. "A letter from Pierre Belum. I hope it's not to tell me to come back!"

He opened the letter and, after reading it, said:

"It's as I feared! I shall have to go."

"Not before this evening, my boy."

It was old Morestal, who had entered the room with an open letter in his hand.

"What's the matter, father?"

"We are specially summoned to appear before the Prefect of the Vosges in the town-hall at Saint-elophe."

"I too?"

"You too. They want to verify certain points in your deposition."

"So they are beginning all over again?"

"Yes, it's a fresh enquiry. It appears that things are becoming complicated."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying what this morning's papers say. According to the latest telegrams, Germany has no intention of releasing Jorance. Moreover, there have been manifestations in Paris. Berlin also is stirring. The yellow press are adopting an arrogant tone. In short ..."

"What?"

"Well, the matter is taking a very nasty turn."

Philippe gave a start. He walked up to his father and, yielding to a sudden fit of anger:

"There! Which of us was right? You see, you see what's happening now!

If you had listened to me ..."

"If I had listened to you?..." echoed Morestal, emphasizing each word and at once preparing for a quarrel.

But Philippe restrained himself. Marthe made a remark or two at random.

And then all three were silent.

Besides, of what use was speech? The thunderstorm had pa.s.sed over their heads and was rumbling over France. Henceforward powerless, they must undergo its consequences and hear its distant echoes without being able to influence the formidable elements that had been let loose during that Monday night.

CHAPTER V

THE THUNDERCLAP

The German argument was simple enough: the arrest had taken place in Germany. At least, that was what the newspapers stated in the extracts which Philippe and his father read in the _Borsweilener Zeitung_. Was it not to be expected that this would be the argument eventually adopted--if it was not adopted already--by the imperial government?

At Borsweilen--the _Zeitung_ made no mystery about it--people were very positive. After twenty-four hours' silence, the authorities took their stand upon the explanation given the day before by Weisslicht, in the course of an enquiry attended by several functionaries, who were mentioned by name; and they declared aloud that everything had taken place in due form and that it was impossible to go back upon accomplished facts. Special Commissary Jorance and Councillor Morestal, caught in the act of a.s.sisting a deserter, would be brought before the German courts and their case tried in accordance with German law.

Besides, it was added, there were other charges against them.

Of Dourlowski, there was no mention. He was ignored.

"But the whole case depends upon him!" exclaimed Morestal, after receiving the Prefect of the Vosges at the Saint-elophe town-hall and discussing the German argument with him and the examining-magistrate.

"The whole case depends upon him, monsieur le prefet. Even supposing their argument to be correct, what is it worth, if we prove that we were drawn into an ambush by Weisslicht and that Baufeld's desertion was a got-up job contrived by subordinate officials of police? And the proof of this rests upon Dourlowski!"

He was indignant at the hawker's disappearance. But he added:

"Fortunately, we have Farmer Saboureux's evidence."

"We had it yesterday," said the examining-magistrate, "but we haven't it to-day."

"How so?"

"Yesterday, Wednesday, when I was questioning him, Farmer Saboureux declared that he had seen Weisslicht and Dourlowski together. He even used certain words which made me suspect that he had noticed the preparations for the attack and that he was an unseen witness of it ...

and a valuable witness, as you will agree. This morning, Thursday, he retracts, he is not sure that it was Weisslicht he saw and, at night, he was asleep ... he heard nothing ... not even the shooting.... And he lives at five hundred yards from the spot!"