had wandered from his infancy, and whose every meadow-path and wayside tree and flower-sown brook he knew by heart as a lover knows the lines of his mistress's face!
"You have arms here?" pursued the German.
"We had."
"What have you done with them?"
"If I had had my way, you would not need ask. You would have felt them."
The Prussian looked at him keenly, doing homage to the boldness of the answer. "Will you confess where they are?"
"No."
"You know the penalty for concealment of arms is death?"
"You have made it so."
"We have, and Prussian will is French law. You are a bold man: you merit death. But still, you know the country well?"
Bernadou smiled, as a mother might smile were any foolish enough to ask her if she remembered the look her dead child's face had worn.
"If you know it well," pursued the Prussian, "I will give you a chance. Lay hold of my stirrup-leather and be lashed to it, and show me straight as the crow flies to where the weapons are
