The country was much more heavily forested than usual. At points, the
woods turned into what John would almost have called a real forest. Then
they could not see very far ahead or to either side, but the road was
good and the carts moved forward, though not at a pace too great for the
walkers.
Picard carried a rifle over his shoulders, and John had secured an
automatic. All the soldiers were well armed. John felt a singular
lightness of heart, and, despite the forbidding glare of Suzanne, who
was in the last cart, he spoke to Julie.
"It's too fine a morning for battle," he said in English. "Let's pretend
that we're a company of troubadours, minnesingers, jongleurs, acrobats
and what not, going from one great castle to another."
"I suppose Antoine there is the chief acrobat?"
"He might do a flip-flap, but if he did the earth would shake."
"Then you are the chief troubadour. Where is your harp or viol, Sir
Knight of the Tuneful Road?"
"I'm merely imagining character, not action. I haven't a harp or a viol,
and if I had them I couldn't play on either."
"Do you think it right to talk In English to the strange young American,
Mademoiselle? Would Madame your mother approve?" said Suzanne in a
fierce whisper.
"It is sometimes necessary in war, Suzanne, to talk where one would not
do so in peace," replied Julie gravely, and then she said to John again
in English:
"We cannot carry out the pretense, Mr. Scott.
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