Comment was plentiful and it was not unkind to Julie.
"Too handsome to be executed as a spy," said a burly German almost in
John's ear. "A girl with a face like that should never feel the touch of
a bullet or a rope. It's a face to be kissed and a neck to fit into a
man's arm."
The man's phrasing was rough, but both his admiration and his pity were
sincere, and John felt no resentment toward him.
"Some of the French girls are wonderful for looks," said another and
younger German, "but they're the most dangerous kind. If it's proved on
the one the prince has caught she'll expect her blue eyes and all that
hair of gold to pull her through."
Him, John hated and would have been glad to strike, but he could help
neither Julie nor himself by resenting it. Instead, he watched the
automobiles, four in number, disappear on the road leading from Metz
toward Stuttgart, a small body of hussars following as a guard, and
then, pack on back, he trudged on foot behind them.
The invaluable passport carried him through the fortifications, and
along the great highway into the country. He was glad that Auersperg had
not gone by train, as it would have been harder to trace him then. Now,
although far behind, he could hear of him at inns and little towns by
the way. Yet he was compelled to recall to himself again and again the
ancient and worn fable of the hare and the tortoise.
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