The officer turned to her, his face whiter than the flag. The crowd in the street below roared.
"Monsieur," gasped Lorraine, "France is not conquered! That flag is the flag of dishonour!"
They stared at each other in silence, then the officer stepped to the flag-pole and picked up the ropes.
"Not that!--not that!" cried Lorraine, shuddering.
"It is the Emperor's orders."
The officer drew the rope tight--the white flag crawled slowly up the staff, fluttered, and stopped.
Lorraine covered her eyes with her hands; the roar of the crowd below was in her ears.
"O God!--O God!" she whispered.
"Lorraine!" whispered Jack, both arms around her.
Her head fell forward on her breast.
Overhead the white flag caught the breeze again, and floated out over the ramparts of Sedan.
"By the Emperor's orders," said the officer, coming close to Jack.
Then for the first time Jack saw that it was Georges Carrière who stood there, ghastly pale, his eyes fixed on Lorraine.
"She has fainted," muttered Jack, lifting her. "Georges, is it all over?"
"Yes," said Georges, and he walked over to the flag-pole, and stood there looking up at the white badge of dishonour.