M DUPONT, after collecting those things which are necessary in the administration of the last rites, put on his shovel hat and took up a lantern.
"Come," he said, "we must hurry." And together they set out along the white road, between the whispering alders and over the iron bridge. The lantern swung feebly in his grasp. They walked in complete silence until they reached the terrace when Lily, looking up suddenly, saw that the sky behind the lodge was filled with a cloudy whiteness as if gray smoke were drifting across the sky.
"There is a fire somewhere," she said placing a hand on the arm of her companion.
M. Dupont halted and regarded the sky for a moment, holding his lantern high so that the rays might penetrate the darkness beyond the vine covered lodge.
"It is not smoke," he said suddenly. "It is dust. The cavalry is passing along the road."
And then for the first time the small revealing noises reached Lily's ear . . . the clanking of spurs, the creaking of girths, the muffled sound of hoofs striking the white road, and then the solitary whicker of a horse.
