Four of the five people in the room were men; the fifth person was a woman.

It was she whose attention was first aroused by the sound of the closing of the door.

She faced about, her glance fell upon the newcomer, a cup which she held in her hand fell to the floor, the precious china splintering into a thousand fragments, her face turned as white as the lace of her low evening gown.
"Marteau!" she exclaimed in almost an agonized whisper.
"Mademoiselle," answered the soldier, bowing profoundly.
He was beautifully dressed in the nearest approach to the latest fashion that the best tailor in Grenoble could offer--thanks to the Major's purse--and, although his most becoming attire was not a uniform, his every movement betrayed the soldier, as his every look bespoke the man.
"And who have we here ?" asked the oldest man of the group, the Marquis d'Aumenier himself, the attention of all being attracted to the newcomer by the crash of the broken china and the low exclamation of the young woman which none had made out clearly.
"By gad!" bellowed out with tremendous voice a stout old man, whose red face and heavy body contrasted surprisingly with the pale face, the lean, thin figure of the old Marquis, "I am damned if it isn't the young Frenchman that held the chateau with us.

Lad," he cried, stepping forward and stretching out his hand, "I am glad to see you alive.

I asked after you, as soon as I came back to France, but they told me you were dead." "On the contrary, as you see, sir, I am very much alive, and at Sir Gervaise Yeovil's service as always," said Marteau, meeting the Englishman's hand with his own, touched by the other's hearty greeting, whose genuineness no one could doubt.