Page images
PDF
EPUB

seen train after train rush by, filled with soldiers; but not one had stopped for the panic-stricken civilians who clamored to be taken away.

"And what can have happened to Madame Barton and the children?" she asked suddenly, while, as if in answer, our bell rang again.

A moment later I heard Julie cry out in amazement, and then, as I sprang to the door, she came in carrying little Jacques Barton.

I thought at first that the boy must be injured, but my mind was soon eased of that fear.

"Let me down, Julie!" he protested, struggling weakly in the girl's arms. "Let me down! I am not a baby."

She set him upon his feet, and we had a good look at him.

"Ah, the pauvre petit!" cried Madame Garnier, forgetting her own forlorn state in the woeful condition of little Jacques.

And well might she exclaim, for it was hard to realize that this pale, begrimed child was the bright-faced boy I had seen striding off manfully beside his mother and sister that morning. He was now so nearly exhausted that he swayed as he stood before us; but his eyes had fastened hungrily upon the remains of Madame Garnier's supper, and I wasted no time in questions.

"Julie, bring a pitcher of milk and tell Eugénie," I ordered, while Madame Garnier nodded her head in approbation. There were a dozen anxious inquiries on the tip of my tongue, but they must wait. Poor little Jacques was scarcely able to speak.

I helped him to a chair beside the table, and by that time Julie was back with Eugénie at her heels.

"Ah, the poor little one!" murmured my old nurse, as she caught sight of the boy. "War does not even spare the babies." Thereupon she took charge and soon had all of us ministering in one way or an-· other to the comfort of our small guest. She fed him sparingly at first, then took him upstairs for a warm bath, after which he was put to bed. A half hour later,

Eugénie, Madame Garnier, and I listened to the boy's story of what had happened since I had seen him last.

"Poor Maman!" he repeated again and again; "she will be so worried about me. And it is true, I could not help it."

"It's no wonder you were lost from her." Madame Garnier spoke soothingly. "I saw many children running hither and thither, seeking their parents. Ah, it touches the heart to see the little ones frightened; but one could do nothing, there were so many.'"

"Tell us what happened from the beginning, Jacques," I suggested.

"Everything was so confused," he answered. "We were always in such a crowd. Always some stranger was pushing me. We could not approach the Gare des Voyageurs. After a long time Maman decided we should walk. We left Rheims by the Paris road, but there it was just the same. There were crowds of people. We could n't get rid of them. We walked and walked; I don't know how many, many kilometres, but my legs grew very tired. It was most difficult to keep beside Maman and Heloise. Always there were some who pressed between us. The bundle I carried grew heavier and heavier. It must have been the same with Maman and Heloise. Poor Maman, she will be so worried about me!"

"We shall let her know you are safe with us," I assured him. "Now tell us how you lost them."

"It is not easy to say," he went on. "One minute I was beside them, and then -they were not there! I was so weary that it was as if I slept while I walked. Suddenly I found myself with strangers all about me. I ran ahead as fast as I could, pushing through the people-who did not like it, je vous assure. But I could not find Maman. Then I thought I must have gone too fast, and so I stopped. The people did not like this either, and pushed me to the side of the road. I watched for Maman and Heloise, but could not see them; then I knew that I had lost them. Yes, I felt like crying, but I did not; and soon I saw Madame Garnier."

"You saw me, child?" exclaimed Madame Garnier. "Why did you not come to me?"

"I tried to, Madame," he answered; "I called, but you did not hear. There were so many people between us. I hurried after you as fast as I could, but I was too tired. Then I lost my bundle, and, after trying to find it again, I could no longer see you. Not knowing what else. to do, I came back to Rheims. Please, Eugénie; might I have some more milk? It goes well, that milk."

That was all of little Jacques' story, and Madame Garnier and I left him to the tender care of my old nurse.

"His poor mother must be distracted," Madame Garnier murmured, when we were downstairs again.

"But how could she have let him out of her sight?" I asked.

"My dear," Madame explained, "you cannot comprehend what it was like on that road out of Rheims. I am sure there were hundreds of families separated from each other to-day. Old men, old women, and children were suddenly left to themselves in the midst of frightened strangers, who had no thought but of their own safety. And they were decent people, too, Jeannette. Kind-hearted people, who, under ordinary conditions, would have stopped to help the weak and suffering; but they were all half mad with fear. It was terrible!"

"Do you think Madame Barton will have turned around?" I asked.

"Who can tell?" said Madame Garnier, with a shrug. "She may believe that the boy is ahead of her. Poor woman, she will be distracted! Do you know where she is going, Jeannette?"

[blocks in formation]

I nodded and was preparing to set about my task when Eugénie came into the

room.

"The little Jacques is sound asleep," she announced. "He will be himself again in the morning."

"That will be good news for Monsieur Barton," I told her. "I am about to send him a letter, Eugénie."

"No letters will leave Rheims for many days," she replied grimly.

"What do you mean?" Madame Garnier and I asked in the same breath, for there was something in her tone that startled us.

"The Boches are in Rheims!" She said it bluntly. "I saw them from an upper window."

In the silence that followed we heard the sharp clatter of horses' hoofs on the stone paving of the street. Madame Garnier stifled a cry of fear as we ran to the front of the house and looked out. A company of uhlans moved past at a moderate pace. They glanced right and left, their weapons ready in their hands, as if expecting attack. In the semi-darkness they had the appearance of huge birds of

prey.

Madame Garnier, shuddering, drew back from the window.

"The sales Boches!" Eugénie murmured again and again. "The sales Boches! They have no pity, no faith, no honor! This is an evil day for Rheims!"

CHAPTER VII

A GERMAN INTRUDER

I MUST confess that I was surprised at the way Madame Garnier took the arrival of the Germans. She made no attempt to disguise her fear of them, and I expected that she would stay with us, at least for that night; but I found that in this I was mistaken.

When the last of the uhlans had passed the house she turned and spoke determinedly:

"I must go home at once!"

"Madame had best stay here," Eugénie remarked, in a tone of command.

[merged small][ocr errors]

She interrupted me almost irritably.

"I cannot leave my two girls alone," she insisted, referring to the servants who had remained to guard her house. "I was reluctant to go this morning-enfin, now that I am back in Rheims it shall not be Isaid that I deserted them."

Even Eugénie had no words to combat this aspect of the matter, and presently Madame Garnier went off, with Julie to escort her, fearful of what might happen on the way, but firm in her determination to do her duty as she saw it.

Happily, no mischance occurred, and Julie came back with the news that she had not seen a Boche either going or returning. Evidently the soldiers we had seen out of the window were an advanceguard of cavalry; but next morning the Germans were in complete possession of the city, and one could not walk a block without being challenged by a gray-clad guard.

Early in the forenoon there came a sharp ring of the bell, followed by an impatient rattling of our door. Instinctively we knew that it was the enemy who demanded admission in so brusque a manner, and Julie was in a panic.

I myself went to the door in answer to the summons, followed by Eugénie, who had ever an eye on me in those days, and we found, as we expected, a German officer and a squad of privates.

"Why have you kept me waiting?" the officer growled, pushing past me into the house. "You must be quicker when we knock. Remember, our patience is not inexhaustible. You wretched French are too slow. But we 'll change all that. You'll see! We 'll make a decent country of this before we 've finished with it. Now answer my questions-and take care that you tell the truth."

I looked at him as he fumbled at some papers he carried. He was a short-necked, red-faced man, and he scowled at us as if frightening women brought a full meas

-

ure of satisfaction to his arrogant pride. He had the manners typical of his countrymen, and he spoke in a guttural French which seemed to torture the words of our beautiful language. He was the first of many German soldiers with whom I came in contact; but his lack of courtesy, his bullying conduct from first to last, his strutting self-importance, even in his dealings with me who was but a child,— these things were common to them all. Never did they show the slightest consideration for the old and feeble, never a grain of sympathy for suffering, never a hint of pity for their victims. They seemed to brag, like bad little boys who boast of their naughtiness. They were without shame, as they were without honor. They were spitefully cruel, as if in their hearts they were deeply envious of the gentle, kindly traits of those they conquered. So I found them, and so they are to-day. The Germans are not men, they are Boches.

These things Eugénie knew and had not failed to tell me of; but until I had seen for myself, how could I believe? My first lesson came that morning, when this officer entered our home and treated it and its inmates as if they belonged to him to do with as he saw fit.

"This is the house of Louis Martigny," he began, glancing at the paper he held. "Is he with your army?"

"Yes, Monsieur," I answered. "There is also a feeble-minded old man living here. I wish to see him."

It was an order, and I led him into the library where Grandpère sat in the sun by the window.

The officer strode across the room and, grasping Grandpère by the shoulder, twisted him around with no gentle hand in order to look at him. Grandpère, startled at this rough treatment, stared up at the officer, and as he saw the hated uniform, his face grew blank as if he dreamed.

The man grunted something under his breath in German and turned once more

to me.

"I have here the name of Jeanne Martigny, daughter of Louis. You are she, eh?"

"Yes, Monsieur," I replied.

"Your father is an officer in the reserves," he went on, consulting his memorandum. "Where is his desk?"

"Why do you wish to know, Monsieur ?"

He had been looking eagerly about the room, but at my words he turned on me with a snarl.

"What's that to you, girl?" he cried, taking a step toward me. "Let me tell you, I don't like your brazen ways. Have a care that you speak humbly, as is befitting. Now where is the desk?" and he shook a finger in my face.

"It is over there," Eugénie broke in, pointing.

"Silence, you old fool! I did n't ask you," the officer fairly shouted. "I want this girl to tell me, and she shall!"

His tone was enough to bring all my stubbornness to the surface, but my old nurse's imploring eyes were upon me.

"Papa's desk is there in the corner, Monsieur," I said, as calmly as I could. I had no fear of the man, only a deep abhorrence, and met his eyes steadily. Perhaps he read in mine something of my feeling.

"You need a lesson, my girl," he growled, "and trust me, you'll have it if you flaunt your proud airs with us. Don't you know that we 've beaten you? We've taken your wretched country. Your miserable army is running away."

"You have yet to take Paris, Monsieur," I retorted unwisely.

Luckily, this remark seemed to amuse him. It gave him an opportunity to boast.

"Oh, ho!" he chuckled gutturally, "we shall be in Paris in a week. We have the greatest army in the world. We Germans are the greatest people in the world.” And with that he crossed to the desk and, flinging it open, sat down before it and began carefully looking through all the private documents Papa kept there.

He searched the desk very thoroughly, but found nothing which he cared to take

away. I thought it must be military matters that interested him, but shortly he enlightened me.

"Your family is from Courcelles near Metz in Alsace," he began, again consulting his paper. "You see we know all about you." He paused a moment as if expecting a reply. "You do see we know all about you, eh?" he demanded, when I did not speak.

"Yes, Monsieur," I answered. To be quite frank I was astonished that he should have this information about us who were of no particular importance in the coun

try.

"We know all about everybody," he went on, expanding with pride. "Now, what I want from you are certain documents relating to the estate once occupied by your family in Courcelles. Where are they?"

"They are in Paris, Monsieur," I answered truthfully. "You will have to take that city to find them."

I could not help a little smile of satisfaction, for it was plain now why he had searched Papa's desk so carefully. He was looking for the deeds to our domain in Alsace, doubtless in order to destroy them and thus make secure the title of those who at present occupied the land. It was an example of the thoroughness of German cunning and dishonesty.

But evidently judging me by what he would himself have done had our positions been reversed, he refused to take my word, and, with his men, set about making a thorough search of the house and cellar. Luckily for the treasures that Eugénie had hidden, the cellars were full of secret places very difficult to discover, and at the end of an hour or so they gave it up.

"You are to have a major quartered on you, ," the officer announced, as he took his leave of us. "I advise you to be ready for him. He will not be so lenient with you. as I have been." And down the steps he marched and strutted off with his soldiers behind him.

(To be continued)

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

FEN sighed a little as he lay back among the pillows in the deck-chair and closed his eyes. His back hurt a good deal today. Beyond the awning the sun beat so mercilessly on the deck of the yacht that it made his eyes ache to look at it, and there was not very much else to be seen. Unless you could sit up, you could not see the stretches of blue Nile flecked with dahabiyeh sails, nor the pale, chalky bluffs crested with solemn date-palms. It is pretty dull, lying on your back all day while every one else goes ashore to poke among exciting ruins and buy queer things; especially if you are only seven and would like very much to be doing it yourself. So Fen did give a little sigh-though it was a very patient one.

It was the winter of 1912.

The big steam-yacht lay motionless at anchor, with only the faint ripple of the sluggish current about her bows to break the silence of the hot mid-afternoon. Fen was lost in wondering what it would be like to go down into the dark, mysterious tomb of an ancient Egyptian king, when a slight, sharp sound at the yacht's side brought him back with a start from the place of his imagination to the heat and the blazing sunlight. In a moment more he became aware of a Head, which was calmly contemplating him over the rail. It was quite a nice Head-dark haired,

bronzed by sun and salt air, clean-shaven, with a whimsical mouth, and gray eyes that were laughing, though the lips were not. The eyes were looking straight at Fen, glancing quickly from the serious little face, with its sensitive mouth and shining frame of red-gold hair, to the frail form lost among the many pillows. There was a rather puzzled expression in the level gaze of Fen's sober hazel eyes as he finally said:

"How do you do?"

"How do you do?" said the Head, in a nice, deep voice; "may I come on over?"

"Yes. Please do!" Fen rather wanted to see if there were any more to the Head, or whether it just floated about like a cherub. There was a great deal more to it. When its owner had climbed to the deck, he proved to be an exceedingly tall, white-clad young man.

"Please, who are you?" asked Fen, after his eyes had traveled upward till they reached the Head again.

"First tell me about yourself," smiled the young man. "Are you all alone?"

"Yes," said Fen, "except for Mammy -but she's below-an' the crew, of course, but I don't ever see them. Mother an' everybody have gone ashore to see all kinds of wonderful things."

"Do they often do that?" inquired the young man, frowning a little; "go off and leave you? Would n't you like to see some of the wonderful things, too?" Fen smiled rather wistfully.

« PreviousContinue »