"But I--" she began.
"You don't understand," said the young _concierge_ fiercely. "Don't you
know who has lived here? In this room, in this bed, Turks, Bulgars,
Germans. Four years of soldiers, coming in one week and gone the next.
I could not stop it! When other houses were burnt I would say to myself,
'Madame is lucky.' When all your china was broken and your chairs used
for firewood, could I help it? Can _she_ help it? She is your last
soldier, and she has taken nothing. So much has gone from this house it
is not worth while to worry about what remains. When you wrote to me
last month to send you the barometer, it made me smile. Your barometer!"
"Begone, Elsie."
"No, madame, no! Not till you come back with me. They should not have
let you come alone. But you were always wilful. You cannot mean to
live here?"
"I wish this woman gone to-day. I wish to sleep here to-night."
"No, madame, no. Sleep in the house opposite to-night. Give her time to
find a lodging--"
"A lodging! She will find a lodging soon enough. A town full of
soldiers--" muttered the old woman.
"I think this is a question for the billeting lieutenant," said Fanny.
"He will explain to you that I am billeted here exactly as a soldier,
that I have a right to be here until your arrival. It will be kind of
you to give me a day in which to find another room.
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