corridors rustled gently, the unformed whispering of voices echoed
behind her. The walls seemed to open at a dozen spots as she walked on,
and little men with bright, grave faces hurried past her about
their duties.

"Perhaps they are changing the guard...."

Yet a face which had already passed her three times began to impress its
features upon her, and she realised suddenly that it was curiosity, not
duty, that called the soldiers from their burrows. The news was spreading,
for out of the gloom ahead fresh parties of onlookers appeared, paused
disconcerted as she wished them "good evening," nodded or saluted her in
haste, then hurried by.

An officer with grizzled hair stepped into the passage from a doorway.
As she neared him she saw he wore the badges of a commandant.

"Who is this?" he asked in a low voice of the soldier who followed at
his heels.

"J'n'en sais rien, mon commandant," The soldier stiffened as a watch-dog
who sees a cat.

Fanny hastened nearer. "I drive a Russian officer," she explained. "I
hope I have your permission to stay here."

"Ah!" exclaimed the officer, looking at her in surprise. "Colonel
Dellahousse told me 'a driver'; he did not add that the driver was a
lady. Where have they put you? Not in the cubicles of the _officiers de
passage?_ No, no, that must be changed, that won't do. Come, you shall