"Are they going to scalp us?" he half whispered presently, with a
shuddering lift of his distorted shoulders.
Her face was buried in her hands and she did not answer. Childlike
he turned from one question to another inconsequently.
"Where did Papa Roussillon go to?" he next inquired. "Is he going
to fight?"
She shook her head.
"They'll tear down the fort, won't they?"
If she heard him she did not make any sign.
"They'll kill the Captain and Lieutenant and get the fine flag
that you set so high on the fort, won't they, Alice?"
She lifted her head and gave the cowering hunchback such a stare
that he shut his eyes and put up a hand, as if afraid of her. Then
she impulsively took his little misshapen form in her arms and
hugged it passionately. Her bright hair fell all over him, almost
hiding him. Madame Roussillon was lying on a bed in an adjoining
room moaning diligently, at intervals handling her rosary and
repeating a prayer. The whole town was silent outside.
"Why don't you go get the pretty flag down and hide it before they
come?" Jean murmured from within the silken meshes of Alice's
hair.
In his small mind the gaudy banner was the most beautiful of all
things. Every day since it was set up he had gone to gaze at it as
it fluttered against the sky. The men had frequently said in his
presence that the enemy would take it down if they captured the
fort.
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