Some fruit was boiling on a stove,
giving out a fragrant savour, and Elise's eye was on it mechanically. A
bit of sewing lay across a chair, and on the wall hung a military suit of
the old sergeant, beside it a short sabre. An old Tricolor was draped
from a beam, and one or two maps of France were pinned on the wall. She
fastened her look on the maps. They seemed to be her cue.
"Have you any influence with your uncle?" she asked.
Elise remained gloomily silent.
"Because," Madame Chalice went on smoothly, ignoring her silence, "I
think it would be better for him to go back to Ville Bambord--I am sure
of it."
The girl's lip curled angrily. What right had this great lady to
interfere with her or hers? What did she mean?
"My uncle is a general and a brave man; he can take care of himself," she
answered defiantly. Madame Chalice did not smile at the title. She
admired the girl's courage. She persisted however. "He is one man, and--"
"He has plenty of men, madame, and His Excellency--"
"His Excellency and hundreds of men cannot stand, if the Government send
soldiers against them."
"Why should the Gover'ment do that? They're only going to France; they
mean no trouble here.
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