Reconciled with the owner of the castle through his unexpected presence in their midst, and admiring his liberality, the municipal official approached to give him some news.

The engineers were mining the bridge over the Marne.

They were only waiting for the dragoons to cross before blowing it up.

If he wished to go, there was still time.
Again Desnoyers hesitated.

Certainly it was foolhardy to remain there.
But a glance at the woods over whose branches rose the towers of his castle, settled his doubts.