Page images
PDF
EPUB

"I shall have the pleasure of sending you home in my automobile. I am sorry to have given you so much trouble."

He rose and made me a little bow.

I smiled and glanced at the sandal lying on his desk. Noting my look, he became again the eager enthusiast.

"You are not thinking of taking that with you, I hope," he said, with a shade of anxiety in his voice.

"I cannot promise, Monsieur, but I agree with you that it should be in a safe place for the present."

"It shall be sent by a special messenger to Paris to-morrow," he assured me.

"But I do not like to give it up," I demurred. "It is mine and has been in our family for many, many years. I must consider it."

He stood thoughtful for a moment. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle," he said, "my

[graphic]

"THE OFFICER, BENDING OVER THE RELIC, SEEMED QUITE OBLIVIOUS OF US."

"Indeed I am thinking of it, Monsieur," I replied. "It is my dearest treasure."

"I can well understand that," he said. "But think, child," he went on hurriedly, "think how near you came to losing it, and what may happen in the future. Such a precious thing as this should not be left to the care of a girl. No, no, no! It must be placed in the museum for safe-keeping."

"In the museum?" I repeated vaguely.

"Of course, Mademoiselle," he replied; then, noting my puzzled expression, "You do not understand. I was not born an intelligence officer. Indeed not! I am an archæologist. I am the Curator of the Paris Museum. Since the war I am what you find me here; but that is incidental. Ordinarily, you see, I deal with things, like the sandal here-old things that are precious. You will let me keep it, Mademoiselle."

enthusiasm has carried me away. You are quite right. The matter should wait for final decision until after the war. The sandal will, of course, always be yours. There was never any question in my mind about its ownership. The museum would only be its guardian. But I pray you, allow us to take care of it until the country is safe."

There was no disguising the fact that all he said was true. My treasure would be safer in his hands, and after a little further talk it was so decided.

"I was sure you would be wise, Mademoiselle," he said at the end. And I parted from my relic again, assured that it would always be awaiting me if I should wish to claim it later. The officer was patient while I took a long. careful look at it, rather reluctant to let it go, after all, but knowing in my heart that it was the most sensible thing to do.

He escorted me to the automobile, instructed the two soldier chauffeurs to see me safely home, then stepped back and bowed stiffly.

"Adieu, Mademoiselle de Martigny," he said, "I shall have an interesting report to make to the general."

"After all, I'm glad we did n't wake him," I remarked.

"You are very good to mention it," he acknowledged, and the car started.

It took no more than ten minutes to reach our street, and I was on the pavement beside our hole in the ground ere I knew it.

"Good night, and thank you," I said to the chauffeurs. "I hope we didn't disturb the

general."

"No fear of that, Mademoiselle," one of them answered with a chuckle. "The general has n't been there for weeks; but everybody thinks he is, so it's all right. Good night." And the machine moved off into the darkness.

I turned to go down into our cellar, feeling that I had spent the evening in a dream in which everything went by contraries.

CHAPTER XXXIII

UNDER THE RED -CROSS

WITHOUT doubt I deserved the scolding I received from Eugénie. Nor did Madame Garnier find any excuse for my having given them two hours or more of great anxiety. Doubtless I had been careless of their feelings, for which I was sorry; but of course I did say that I should do the same thing again in similar circumstances, trying to explain Monsieur Guyot's predicament. But this did not satisfy them; and when Eugénie grasped the fact that it was the orderly of the German major of whom I spoke, she insisted that he was a Boche spy, in spite of my reiterated denials.

To tell the truth, it was not so much the scolding I minded as their indifference to my adventure. I wanted to talk about it, but they refused to show the slightest interest; so when Sunday came I went out to the military hospital certain that in Mademoiselle Peters I should find a sympathetic listener.

It was one of our few fine days, and early in the afternoon we went for a little walk, when I talked and talked to my heart's content, while Mademoiselle Peters put in a question now and then and laughed with me over the climax to my queer experience with the French officer.

We had grown so indifferent to the constant booming of the guns that we forgot all about

the war until we neared the hospital on our way back. Here a German aeroplane attracted our attention. It was flying very low and seemed particularly interested in the buildings.

"Now what do you suppose he is looking for?" Mademoiselle Peters remarked, as we watched the enemy airman making wide circles above the rocfs painted with huge red crosses.

"No one can tell what the Boches have in mind to do," I said bitterly. "Perhaps he 's getting ready to bomb the place."

Mademoiselle Peters laughed.

"You French surely believe the worst of the Germans!" she declared. "I admit they are pretty bad; but I'm certain they won't harm a hospital. That would be too brutal. The Red Cross will protect us."

"They fired upon it when it was flying from the cathedral," I reminded her.

"That was n't a real hospital,” she insisted, and, as if to prove me in the wrong, the aeroplane rose and went swiftly away to the north. When it had disappeared we forgot all about it for the time being.

Always, on Sundays, the nurses and doctors gathered to have tea together in the English fashion. We all looked forward with much pleasure to this half-hour, and it was a happy little party of men and girls who laughed and joked at the privations they were forced to endure.

"If we were not cheerful," Mademoiselle Peters said to me, as we listened for a moment to the hum of busy tongues about us, "if we did not try to see the lighter side of our work, I think, Jeannette, we should all go crazy."

She had scarcely ceased speaking when there came a terrific crash, followed by another and then another. The house we were in shook with the shock of it, and on the instant every lip was sealed. We eyed each other for a sec

ond with startled faces.

Three other explosions rent the air, so near that we instinctively shrank back, shuddering. Every one in that room had had some experience with shells in one part of France or another; but the unexpectedness of this attack appalled us all for the moment. Then one of the doctors recovered his wits. "I guess it's our turn," he remarked calmly. "A Boche aeroplane is bombing us."

In the hush that followed we heard the falling of glass, the clatter of splintered wood, followed by sharp cries of pain and fear.

This brought us to our feet and there was a rush for the door. At the sound of those pleas for help we forgot ourselves on the instant.

In the open, the purring of the engine was

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]

plainly audible, and I looked up to see an aëroplane almost directly over my head. Even as my eyes were upon it, a dark object was dropped to the ground, a flash and a detonation resulting that shook the earth under my feet.

Then came a shout of "Fire!" and I saw smoke rising from the building at the end of the little group. Inside it, I knew that there were a dozen prostrate men who could not escape unaided. Their only salvation lay in the devotion of the men and women who rushed to their rescue without thought of their own peril.

Somehow or other I had stayed near Mademoiselle Peters and now found myself running at her side.

"They are deliberately bombing us!" she shouted in my ear. "I could not have believed that there were such people living. They care nothing for the Red Cross or anything else. They are murderers!"

Her tone was one of deep anger and resentment. She was an American, with none of the feelings that years of insult and attempted oppression had bred in the French, yet I could add nothing to the tone of loathing, contempt, and horror that this girl from across the sea had now for the Boches.

But this was no time to talk. All of us had work to do. Mademoiselle Peters and I entered the smoke-filled building with the others, and strove desperately to remove the wounded as quickly as possible. We found a poilu who could not put foot to the ground. There was only one way for us to save his life and that was to carry him out in his blankets and sheet. How we managed it I do not know. I was at one end and Mademoiselle Peters at the other, and somehow we reached the air with our maimed burden slung between us as in a hammock. We staggered with him to the next building, and as there was no empty bed we laid him gently on the floor.

"Thank you, thank you," he said, through set lips. "I am all right here. Go back to the others. I wish I could help you."

That the man suffered intensely I know, yet he had the courage to thank us and think of others.

We rushed back, but by this time the entire building was ablaze, and a draft of hot air stopped us on the threshold. For an instant it seemed impossible to breathe.

I

"Come on, Jeannette," cried Mademoiselle Peters; "we must go in!" and with her head lowered she entered the smoke-filled room. followed, but we had scarcely taken a step when some one bumped into us.

"Where are the rest?" demanded Mademoiselle Peters.

"This is the last one," came the answer out of the murk of smoke. "All out! Hurry!" With a thankful heart that all were saved, I turned and found my way into the air, filling my lungs with a deep breath of it. Mademoiselle Peters stood panting at my side.

"Thank Heaven, we 've saved them!" she half sobbed. "Oh, Jeannette, how can the Germans do such things?"

I did not answer, for once more there came the throb of an aëroplane engine above our heads.

"They 've come back!" some one shouted. "Look out! Here 's another bomb!"

It burst so close to us that I reeled, and in my eyes there was a flash as of lightning, hot and terrible. In that blinding light two or three figures closer to the point of explosion fell like wooden images, so unlifelike did they appear against the background of flaming gas. Mademoiselle Peters was flung to the earth, but juinped to her feet the next moment.

"The brutes are bombing us again!" she cried, with flashing eyes. "Oh, how I wish I were a man!"

More bombs were dropping, and again the flames began to crackle, this time on the roof of the building where we had a few moments before placed our rescued patients. All the work had to be done again, and now by fewer hands. Some were lying prone, nurses, doctors, and ambulance men, who would never help in this world again.

It was dreadful.

After a time I lost touch with Mademoiselle Peters and was aiding another nurse to bear a stretcher upon which lay an unconscious poilu. As I was making for the door I collided with a huge fellow with a bandaged head, whose wide, uncertain gestures showed me at once that he was blind.

"Stay here and I'll come back for you!" I shouted.

"Good, Mademoiselle," he answered, and stood still, while I struggled out once more into the air.

It was some minutes, I suppose, before I was free to return, but as I ran back to enter the burning building a hand stayed me.

"You must not go in," a voice shouted in my ear. "It's impossible!"

"I must! I must!" I cried, and wrenched myself free, remembering the helpless poilu waiting for me.

A heavy black cloud poured through the door as I plunged in. I felt the acrid vapor

clutch my throat with a smothering grip. For an instant I faltered. It did seem impossible; but I had bidden the blind soldier stay till I returned.

I must find him.

Only by instinct did I reach the man, standing rigidly on the spot where I had last seen him. I grasped him by the arm and turned toward the dim glow in the thickening smoke which indicated the doorway.

As I started to lead him, my giant began to laugh uproariously.

"This is n't funny, Monsieur!" I cried out in irritation, choking with the hot fumes that enveloped us.

"Oh, is n't it?" he shouted. "Here am I, the strongest man in my regiment, being led like a dancing bear by a girl. That 's funny, is n't it? Either I must laugh, Mademoiselle, or I shall cry."

Even in the confusion of that ghastly, reeking room, the thought came to me that my huge poilu was right. In this dreadful business of war, as fought today, we must either laugh or cry. There is no middle way to live through it.

But that was the last connected thinking I did for some time. The smoke was blinding me, too, and my senses were reeling. On our way to the door we struck against a cot. It seemed to be of enormous size. The second I groped in the darkness was to me an interminable hour. Flashes of light sprang up before my eyes, and I knew not whether they were flame or the delusions of my fast ebbing consciousness. I gasped for more air to fill my laboring lungs, struggling against threatening suffocation. In my ears was a Babel of sounds, bewildering and chaotic. Yet through this mad muddle of my senses I held to one thought. I must save my poilu! And somehow or other we reached the door. the blessed sunlight we stumbled, safe, at least for the moment. My mind cleared as two nurses and a doctor came running up to

us.

Out into

"A thousand thanks for saving me," my blind soldier shouted above the din, "when the war is over, Mademoiselle, your bear will dance for you."

I laughed with him, hardly knowing what I did, and then I became aware of the now dreaded humming of an aëroplane.

"Look out! Here's another!" some one cried, and that was all I heard.

For, the next instant, a great blinding flash of light pierced my brain, followed by a deep and velvety blackness.

CHAPTER XXXIV

LA CROIX DE GUERRE

BEFORE I opened my eyes again I was dimly aware of a most pleasing sensation of tranquillity. It was as if I had laid myself down on a deep bed of moss in a cool and shady place after a long hot walk in midsummer. It was a most delightful feeling, and I lay quiet, smiling with the dreamy comfort of complete relaxation. I had no desire to move. No wish to open my eyes. No thought but of this wonderful restfulness and blissful bodily ease.

Gradually, after what seemed long hours, there came to me a hint of speculation as to what had happened; but I put it from me for a time, satisfied to let myself drift along without care and without sensation, save that of perfect serenity. But little by little a curiosity grew upon me. I was not aware of any life outside of my own hardly conscious existence. There was no sound, not even the shadow of a world beyond my dim perceptions. Yet my mind gradually awakened to the realization that there was something more about me than simply a vague and fleeting knowledge of my own identity. I shortly began to remember that I was Jeannette de Martigny and with that memory came a reawakening to what had been happening in my little world before this period of serene passiveness. Then, like a scene, half hidden by a cloud of fog, I pictured that last mad effort to save the wounded in the hospital. The choking grip of the smoke at my throat when I had tried to lead my blind poilu out of the building; the great glare of that last bomb and the sudden blackness that had enveloped me. I knew what had happened now, and smiled at the thought. I was dead, and there was a glad feeling in my heart that all this wonderful calmness of spirit could have but one explanation-I was in Heaven.

To me it was a beautiful thought. I opened my eyes and looked up into the face of my father, bending toward me with a smile upon his lips. There he was, my dear papa, looking just as I had known him upon the earth, with warm love for me shining in his eyes. There could be no doubt now as to where I was. had left my body behind me and was with him whom I had loved best in the world, high above all cares and troubles. What more could I ask of Heaven than to give him back to me?

I

Curiously enough, I was content to lie and look up at him. It was sufficient that we were together again. There was plenty of time to put my arms about him. For the present I was

too happy to move; too blissful to break the wonderful spell that seemed to hold me.

me.

But presently, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another figure standing a little way off. It was Mademoiselle Peters, in her uniform, and the red cross she wore seemed to gleam as if it were alive. For a moment, sadness filled It was too bad that she should have died too. For myself there was nothing to regret, on the contrary, I was joyful that I was with Papa again; but for her I was conscious of a great sorrow, so that I felt the tears brimming my eyes. Poor Mademoiselle Peters, they would miss her very much, I was certain. She was so quick to help and so cheerful in the hospital. There would be difficulty in filling her place.

Then I became aware of rustling sounds, as of people walking about, careful not to make a noise. A murmur of low-pitched voices afar off came to me with gentle familiarity, as if I had heard it many times before. I wondered for a while what they could signify, and then, with something of a shock, I remembered hearing just such murmurs in the hospital at Neuilly.

Yes, that was it! The hushed hum of voices was characteristic, and there was Mademoiselle Peters just as she always was, for when I looked again the red cross had lost its radi

ance.

Of a sudden a great fear seized my heart, and, turning my head a little, I saw that beside me was a white bed; beyond it was another; and so on, an endless row. At the foot of the long room there was a door, a wide doubledoor so that stretchers could enter easily. Around one of the beds there was a screen, and behind it, I knew, there was one struggling with death, a patient whose case was desperate. All about me were the old familiar things which make the bare furnishings of a ward. I had not left the earth after all. I was in a hospital and not in heaven, as I had supposed.

With a pang in my heart, I turned my eyes to seek Father's face, dreading to find it gone; but there it was, smiling lovingly as before. Yet I knew that he was dead. What could it mean? Was it only a dream? Was I very ill, and was this dearly loved face the product of an imagination made vivid by my weakness? He seemed so real and strong and alive-and oh, the loving smile upon his lips!

Then came the thought that if I could only take hold of him, put my arms about him and cling with all my strength, I would be able to keep him with me always. That he would not

Ivanish as does a dream when one awakens. But when I tried to move, my body seemed to have lost the power to stir itself, and the anguish in my heart was more than I could bear. I must embrace Papa to keep him with me, else would I be left alone again, and summoning all my will I struggled against the dead load of my passive body. With an effort that seemed to wrench my very soul I lifted myself from the pillow and flung my heavy arms about his neck, my own cry echoing in my ears:

“Oh, Papa, Papa! I cannot let you go! I cannot let you go. Stay with me, please stay with me!"

I felt his arms about me, strong and alive. and in my ear his murmured words of comfort.

"My dear, my dear! It's all right. I'm not going away. I'm going to stay a long time. It was all a mistake about my being dead. My little Jeannette! Ma petite fille! Don't sob so. See, it's all right. I've come back to you as well as I ever was."

I clung to him, shaking from head to foot, fearing for a time that my very ears were playing me a trick; but in a little the realization came to me that we were both alive and in each other's arms. Nothing mattered after that, though I still clung to him desperately, while he patted and comforted me till I grew calm again. Then I heard Mademoiselle Peters speaking to me.

"Jeannette, dear, you must lie quiet or I shall have to send your father away."

She needed to say it but once, for at that threat I lay down like a lamb, ready to do anything that I was told rather than that he should go away from me.

"May I talk?" I asked with a smile.
"A little," she said, "but not too much."

"I'll do most of the talking," Father cut in. "I must tell Jeannette how it happens that I am still here. Is n't that what you wanted to know, dear?" he asked me.

I nodded my head.

"That is just what I wanted to know," I whispered.

"In that case I'll leave you to yourselves," Mademoiselle Peters suggested, and went off to her duties.

Then Father told me about his adventure which, as he said, was quite simple after all. He was n't killed, as André supposed, though he had been pretty badly wounded; but the Germans had taken him prisoner and for weeks he had lain in one of their hospitals. After he was strong enough, they sent him

« PreviousContinue »