the patriots of the tavern. "Had that madman had his way, he had destroyed us all."
Reine Allix softly led her grandson across his own threshold, and drew his head down to hers and kissed him between the eyes.
"You did what you could, Bernadou," she said to him, "let the rest come as it will."
Then she turned from him, and flung her cloak over her head and sank down, weeping bitterly, for she had lived through ninety-three years only to see this agony at the last.
Bernadou, now that all means of defence was gone from him, and the only thing left to him to deal with was his own life, had become quiet and silent and passionless, as was his habit. He would have fought like a mastiff for his home, but this they had forbidden him to do, and he was passive and without hope. He shut to his door, and sat down with his hand in that of Reine Allix and his arm around his wife.
"There is nothing to do but to wait," he said sadly.
The day seemed very long in coming.
The firing ceased for a while: then its roll commenced afresh, and grew nearer to the village. Then again all was still.
At noon a shepherd staggered into the place,
