"
"What is its extent?"
The miller looked at him fixedly.
"I do not know," he answered.
And he went away. An hour later the contribution of war in provisions
and money, demanded by the officer, was in the courtyard of the mill.
Night came on. Francoise watched with anxiety the movements of the
soldiers. She hung about the room in which Dominique was imprisoned.
Toward seven o'clock she experienced a poignant emotion. She saw the
officer enter the prisoner's apartment and for a quarter of an hour
heard their voices in loud conversation. For an instant the officer
reappeared upon the threshold to give an order in German, which she did
not understand, but when twelve men ranged themselves in the courtyard,
their guns on their shoulders, she trembled and felt as if about to
faint. All then was over: the execution was going to take place. The
twelve men stood there ten minutes, Dominique's voice continuing to
be raised in a tone of violent refusal. Finally the officer came out,
saying, as he roughly shut the door:
"Very well; reflect. I give you until tomorrow morning."
And with a gesture he ordered the twelve men to break ranks. Francoise
was stupefied. Pere Merlier, who had been smoking his pipe and looking
at the platoon simply with an air of curiosity, took her by the arm with
paternal gentleness.
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