"God knows!" he said at last, pointing with a slow and grave gesture
at a tall roadside cross mounted on a block of stone and stretching its
arms of forged stone all black against the darkening red band in the
sky. "God knows! If it were not for this emblem, which I remember seeing
in this spot as a child, I would wonder to what we, who have remained
faithful to our God and our king, have returned. The very voices of the
people have changed."
"Yes, it is a changed France," said General D'Hubert. He had regained
his calm. His tone was slightly ironic. "Therefore, I cannot take your
advice. Besides, how is one to refuse to be bitten by a dog that means
to bite? It's impracticable. Take my word for it. He isn't a man to be
stopped by apologies or refusals. But there are other ways. I could, for
instance, send a mounted messenger with a word to the brigadier of the
_gendarmerie_ in Senlac. These fellows are liable to arrest on my simple
order. It would make some talk in the army, both the organised and the
disbanded. Especially the disbanded. All _canaille_. All my comrades
once--the companions in arms of Armand D'Hubert. But what need a
D'Hubert care what people who don't exist may think? Or better still,
I might get my brother-in-law to send for the mayor of the village and
give him a hint. No more would be needed to get the three 'brigands'
set upon with flails and pitchforks and hunted into some nice deep wet
ditch.
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