FOUR YEARS LATER
"But my dear Captain, why did you refuse the Legion of Honor? It's
inconceivable."
"Because, my dear girl, I considered that I didn't deserve it. That's
all."
"Now that's too bad."
Mlle. Françoise de la Boulays rose from the settle where she had just
invited Captain Didier d'Haumont, who was gradually recovering health
and strength, to be seated. Certainly there were times when she failed
to understand her dear invalid. Didier d'Haumont had been wounded and
mentioned in the orders of the day several times; he wore with joy and
pride the cross, but firmly refused the Legion of Honor, remarking:
"I will accept it at some future time when I've deserved it."
"Shall I tell you what I think? Well, you're getting proud," said
Françoise in a delightful tone of annoyance.
"Possibly it's something like that," returned the Captain smiling; and
then he became serious and was silent.
His sudden silences in the midst of the most cheerful conversation
constituted one of the riddles which Mlle. de la Boulays was unable to
solve. True, there were moments when the Captain not only baffled her
completely by his silences, but occasionally by expressing opinions
which were incomprehensible and directly at variance with those held by
most level-headed persons. He sometimes uttered a word, and at the same
time gave a peculiar smile, which seemed to indicate that he was not
entirely in agreement on these matters with the rest of the world.
Nevertheless Françoise was convinced that she had never in the course
of her life met a finer intelligence than his, nor a more sympathetic
mind, nor a braver heart.
She was attracted to him from the first; from that evening on the
_Dordogne_ when they celebrated the victory on the Marne, and she was a
witness of his intense emotion. . . . They sat at the same table and
became good friends during the voyage. Captain Lalouette introduced
Didier to M. de la Boulays; and Françoise's father, who was himself an
ardent patriot, was struck by the generous enthusiasm with which a man
like d'Haumont, who was no longer a young man, left important business
affairs to return to France and take his place in the fighting line.
True, such instances were not rare, but what was remarkable in his case
was the almost boyish delight with which he spoke of battles that were
to come, and the mystic joy, as it were, with which he envisaged death.
"I would give all that I possess to die like that," he said.
It was known that d'Haumont was a very rich man.
Françoise concealed her agitation when the steamer reached its
destination and they had to part.
"Good-bye forever," Didier said.
His departure was so abrupt that she had no opportunity of asking him
for an explanation of this enigmatic remark.
M. de la Boulays was the owner of a country house near the boundary of
the zone occupied by the army. He straightway devoted a considerable
part of the house and the buildings on his estate to the service of the
Red Cross. In this temporary hospital Françoise nursed the wounded with
untiring care and devotion.
For two years she heard nothing of Didier d'Haumont. A day came,
however, when she saw his name in a newspaper. In spite of the great
reticence with which heroic exploits in the war were treated, it was
related that Lieutenant Didier d'Haumont and his company had held
throughout the night against two German regiments a position of supreme
importance, which the reserves were unable to reach until dawn. He was
brought back, severely wounded, with the seven survivors of the
struggle. The day on which she read to her father the news of this great
feat a general commanding one of the armies, whose name had become
famous after the battle of the Yser, was dining with them. He knew
Didier d'Haumont, for he had been his colonel, and was able to speak of
his rash bravery in the battles for Flanders. Moreover, his attention
had been specially called to him by the War Office where d'Haumont had
friends, among others a Jewish banker attached to the Ministry, by whose
intermediary, if gossip could be believed, Didier d'Haumont had
deposited at the exchequer, as a gift, nearly two million francs worth
of gold dust, his entire fortune.
Mlle. de la Boulays left the room when she heard these last words, not
wishing her father to see how greatly this talk about d'Haumont affected
and even unnerved her. The newspaper which told the story of his exploit
reported also that the lieutenant, after hovering between life and death
for some days, was now out of danger.
Some months drifted by. And one evening during a great offensive a
captain who had been considerably knocked about by a shell was brought
into the operating-room.
Françoise recognized Didier d'Haumont at the moment that he recovered
consciousness. The emotion which overcame both of them was such that
they made no effort to conceal it. He determined to discover the truth
about his condition. He begged Françoise to save him from an operation
which would make a cripple of him. He would rather die; and truth to
tell, he seemed anxious only for one thing: to be left to die.
It was Françoise who saved his life and prevented an amputation which
had already been decided upon. And now he was well again; staying in M.
de la Boulays' own apartments and treated as an old friend of the
family. His strength had, he said, entirely returned, though Mlle. de la
Boulays was inclined to doubt it, and he began to talk of going away.
The armistice, which was now signed, created for him, he said, fresh
duties.
"You are always telling me that you owe your life to me," said
Françoise in a somewhat constrained tone, "and it seems that the only
way you can prove your gratitude is by promptly leaving us." It is at
this point in their friendly disputes that we come upon Didier and
Françoise in the de la Boulays' park.
"Haven't you any relatives?" she asked, after a short pause.
"No. . . . I have no relatives."
She hesitated slightly and then, with a sudden movement of her head, for
she was as red as a rose, she flung out:
"Haven't you ever thought of new ones?"
"Upon my word, no. . . . It's too late." And he added with a laugh, "You
forget my hair is turning grey."
"Oh, ever so little. Besides, what does that prove?"
"It proves that I am over the marrying age."
"What you say is silly. Our friend the Vicomte d'Arly was married when
he was sixty."
"Very well, I'll wait till then."
She began to laugh.
"Tell me, do you ever think of the dramatic coincidence of our meeting
here, although you said 'good-bye' to me forever? It was fate taking its
revenge on you. And quite unmercifully! . . . Why did you want to lose
sight of me forever?"
He looked her straight in the face. He was very pale.
"Because my life does not belong to me," he said. Françoise leaned for
a moment for support on the marble baluster. Obviously she faltered
where she stood. He felt sorry for her and also not a little sorry for
himself.
"Don't you think that it brings you bad luck to say 'good-bye for the
present' in war time, when your life belongs to your country?"
She breathed again. She had imagined that Didier's heart was not free.
She was much easier, but she still raged within herself at the
incredible obstinacy with which he refused to understand that she loved
him and that he had but to say one word.
"I'll leave you," she said nervously. "I have to dress for dinner. I'm
expecting one of my admirers here this evening."