The shadows were beginning to lengthen across the valley as the Ark
rounded a bend in the stream and the little church spire of Fontanelle
came into view. "There it is--at last!" cried Mother Meraut. "Thank
God, something of the village still stands!" She gazed eagerly into the
distance. "And there is the Chateau," she added joyfully, pointing to a
large gray stone building half hidden by a fringe of trees. "Oh, surely
things are not going to be so bad as I had feared. Hurry! hurry! It
seems as though my heart must take wings and fly before my body, now
that we are so near!"
Father Meraut bent to the oars. "I will stay with the boat while you
and the children go to the village," he said, when, a few moments
later, he found a favorable spot to land.
Mother Meraut was out of the boat almost before it was beached, the
Twins sprang out after her, and the three started up the road to the
village on a run. Groves of trees just bursting into leaf lay between
them and the one street of the little town, and it was not until they
had passed it that they could tell how much damage had been done. The
sight that met their eyes as they entered the village was not
reassuring, but, hoping against hope, they ran on to the little house
which had been Mother Meraut's childhood home. At the threshold they
paused, and the tears which Mother Meraut had resolutely refused to
shed when she had said good-by to her own home in Rheims fell freely as
she gazed upon the ruins of the home of her parents. The house was
empty, the windows were gone, the door was wrenched from its hinges,
and the roof was open to the sky. The whole village was in much the
same condition. Every house was empty, the street deserted.
Neither Mother Meraut nor the Twins said a word. With heavy hearts they
turned from the gaping doorway and started toward the Chateau, which
lay half a mile beyond the village. Not a soul did they meet until they
arrived at the great gate which marked the entrance to the park, and
then they saw that the Chateau too had suffered. It had been partly
burned out, but as its walls were standing and one wing looked
habitable, their spirits rose a little. At the gate a child was
playing. They stopped. "Can you tell me, ma petite," said Mother
Meraut, her voice trembling, "whether there is any one here by the name
of Jamart?"
"Mais--oui," answered the child, surveying the strangers with
curiosity. "Voila!" She pointed a stubby finger toward the Chateau, and
there, just disappearing behind a corner of the wall, was the bent
figure of an old woman carrying a pail of water.
With a cry of joy, Mother Meraut sprang forward, and Pierre and
Pierrette for once in their lives, run as they would, could not keep up
with her. She fairly flew over the ground, and when the Twins at last
reached her side, the pail of water was spilled on the ground, and the
two women were weeping in each other's arms. An old man now came toward
them and the children flung themselves upon him. "Grandpere!
Grandpere!" they shouted, and then such another embracing as there was!
Grand'mere kissed the Twins, and Grandpere hugged Mother Meraut, and
then, because the tears were still running down their cheeks, Grandpere
pointed to the overturned pail, and the water flowing in little
wiggling streams through the dust. "Come, dear hearts," he cried, "are
these your tears? Weep no more, then, lest we have a flood after our
fire! This is a time to rejoice! Wipe your eyes, my Antoinette, and
tell us how you came here. It is as if the sky had opened to let down
three angels--and where, then, is Jacques?"
By this time a group of people had gathered about them--the little
remnant of the old prosperous village of Fontanelle. "Here we are, you
see," said Grandpere, "all that are left of us. Every able-bodied young
woman was driven away by the Germans to work in their fields--while
ours lie idle. Every able-bodied man is in the army. There are only
twenty-seven of us left--old women, children, and myself. There you
have our history."
Mother Meraut shook each old friend by the hand, looked at all the
babies and children, and proudly showed her Twins to them in return,
before she said a word about the sorrows they had endured in Rheims,
and the desperation which had at last driven them from their home. The
people listened without comment. They had all suffered so much that
there was no room left in their hearts for new grief, but when she told
them of the boat and her lame husband they rejoiced with her that she
had the happiness at least of a united family. There was plenty of room
in their hearts for joy! "Come with us," they said. "We cannot be
poorer. Our cattle are driven away; we have no strong laborers to till
our fields, no seeds to plant in them. We live in one wing and the
outhouses of the Chateau, but hope is not yet dead, and your hands are
strong. Your husband, too, can help, and we shall be at least no worse
off for your being here."
Grand'mere spoke. "We live in the cow-stalls of the stable," said she.
"It is not so bad; there is still hay in the loft, and there are other
stalls not occupied."
Mother Meraut crossed herself. "If the Blessed Mother of Our Lord could
live in a stable," she said, "such shelter is surely good enough for
us."
Father Meraut, sitting patiently in the boat, was surprise, a little
later as he looked anxiously toward the village, to see a crowd of
people coming toward him, waving caps and hands in salutation. Before
the others ran Pierre and Pierrette, and when they reached him they
poured forth a jumble of excited words, from which he was able to
gather that Grandpere and Grand'mere were alive and well, and that
there was a place for them to stay. He got out of the boat to greet the
people, and their willing hands took the bundles and helped hide the
Ark in the bushes, and the whole company then started back to the
Chateau, Grandpere lingering behind the others to keep pace with the
slow progress of Father Meraut.
When Grand'mere, the Twins, and their Mother reached the stable they
took their bundles from the hands of their friends, and went in to
inspect their new home. The stable had been swept and scrubbed until it
was as clean as it could be made. The large box stall served as a
bedroom for Grand'mere and Grandpere. Above their bed of hay, covered
with old blankets and quilts, was hung a wooden crucifix. This, with
two boxes for seats, was all the furniture it contained. A few articles
of clothing hung about on nails, and in the open space before the
stalls a stove was placed, the pipe running through a pane of glass in
a window near by.
When Grandpere and Father Meraut arrived, Mother Meraut met them at the
door. "Behold our new apartment!" she said, and she led her husband to
one of the clean stalls, where she had already begun to set up
housekeeping. The Twins were at that moment in the loft overhead,
getting hay for their beds, and Jacqueline, exhausted by her journey,
had been put to bed in the manger.
Father Meraut looked about. "This is not bad for the summer," he said,
"and who knows what good luck may come to us by fall? Perhaps the
Germans will be driven out of France by that time, and surely we shall
be able to do some planting even now."
"We have dug up the ground for gardens as best we could with the few
tools we have," said Grandpere. "The government would send us seeds,
but the roads are very bad, and we have no horses, and supplies are
hard to get even though we have money to pay for them. The nearest town
where provisions can be obtained lies six miles below, at the mouth of
the river, and it is very little one can carry on one's back."
"Is there no way to get help from the soldiers' camp?" asked Father
Meraut. "They must get supplies."
"Yes, but they cannot of themselves at this time take care of the
civilian population," said Grandpere. "There are many villages in the
same condition, and the soldiers' business is to fight for France."
"True," said Father Meraut. Then he exclaimed: "I have it! The Ark! It
will indeed be our salvation as it was Father Noah's."
Grandpere looked anxiously at Mother Meraut and touched his forehead.
"He is not mad?" he asked.
She laughed. "The name of our boat is the Ark," she explained. "We can
use it to go down the river to buy provisions if there are any to be
had."
Grand'mere, who had been listening, looked cautiously about, then felt
under the straw of her bed and brought out a stocking. "See!" she said.
"I have money. The others have money too, but of what use is money when
there is nothing to buy and no place to buy it?"
"We must find a place to buy things," said Mother Meraut with decision.
"Grandpere and Jacques can take the Ark and go down the river on a
voyage of discovery, and bring back the supplies that we most need."
After supper the whole village gathered about the stable door to hear
all the news which the Meraut family had brought from the outside
world. For months they had not seen a newspaper, and there had been no
visitors in Fontanelle. And when Father Meraut had finished telling
them all the story of Rheims, of the burning of the Cathedral, of the
miraculous safety of the statue of Saint Jeanne, of his own escape, and
the final destruction of the roof over their heads, and their flight
from the city, the pressing needs of the little village and his and
Grandpere's proposed voyage were discussed, and it was very late when
at last the people separated and the little village settled down for
the night.