_The Departure_
Four days later the three American girls left Petrograd. This was sooner
than they had expected to leave, but a desirable opportunity arose for
them to get safely across the continent and into France.
The journey was a long and tiresome one, as they had to cross the
northern countries of Finland, Sweden and Norway until finally they were
able to reach Holland, and thence journey to England and France. But it
was not possible to make the trip in any other way, since all of
southern Europe was engaged in active fighting.
However, the Red Cross girls did not travel alone. Sonya Valesky went
with them. At General Alexis' request the Czar had pardoned her, but she
was an exile from Russia forever, never to return at any future time.
Fortunately for the imprisoned woman, her reprieve had come before her
sentence had time to be carried out. She was brought directly from the
prison, where Nona had once visited her, to the lodgings where the
American girls were making ready to depart.
If Sonya regretted the terms of her pardon, she showed no signs of
sorrow. But she was strangely quiet then and during the long, cold trip
across the continent. In a measure she seemed to have been crushed by
the weeks of solitary confinement in the Russian jail with the prospect
of Siberia ever before her. Often she would sit for hours with her hands
crossed in her lap and her eyes staring out the window, without seeming
to see anything in the landscape. One could scarcely imagine her as a
woman who had devoted her life to traveling from one land to another,
trying to persuade men and women to believe in universal peace.
Yet she was sincerely grateful and appreciative of any attention of
affection from the three American girls who were her companions. And
after a short time Barbara and Mildred were almost as completely under
the spell of this grave woman's charm, as Nona had grown to be.
Moreover, the girls felt that she had not yet recovered from her
illness, because of the hardships following it. After a few weeks or
months in the beloved "Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door" perhaps she
would become more cheerful.
For it was toward the chateau country of France that the three American
girls were again traveling. The little house where they had once lived
for a winter had been Captain Castaigne's wedding gift to Eugenia. Since
Eugenia was away nursing in a hospital she had offered her home to her
friends. Madame Castaigne had also insisted that they come to her at the
chateau; nevertheless, the girls had chosen the farmhouse.
The Countess was no longer young, and still had no servants save old
François. The work of entertaining four guests, and one of them a
stranger, would have put too great a tax upon her. Moreover, Eugenia
would undoubtedly come back for a while to be with her friends and
would naturally stay with her mother-in-law. The girls also hoped that
Captain Castaigne might be spared for a short leave of absence. However,
in order that the Countess Amélie should not be wounded, or feel that
the girls no longer cared to be with her, Barbara had written to say
that she would stay at the chateau whenever the Countess wished her
society.
Certainly the trip from Russia into France during war times was a
difficult one. The girls believed that they could not have made it,
except that now and then they stopped for a day or more to rest. On
these days Barbara and Nona used to spend at least a few hours in
sightseeing, no matter what their fatigue. Now and then Mildred would go
with them, but never Sonya. Occasionally Nona would urge her, saying
that the exercise and change of atmosphere would be good for her. But
Sonya used always to plead fatigue or a lack of interest. Finally she
confessed frankly that she had seen most of these cities and countries
before, and in some of them was fairly well known. Therefore it might
be safer and happier for all of them if she remained quietly in whatever
hotel they happened to be staying.
Yet Sonya appeared almost as anxious as her three companions to reach
France and the "Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door." This, of course,
was because the three girls had talked of it so continuously and the
longed for meeting with Eugenia again. For somehow, although the
farmhouse was in a war-stained country, its name suggested quiet and a
brooding peace.
Nevertheless, several times, after mentioning Eugenia's name, Nona had
observed Sonya's face flush and the expression of her eyes become almost
apologetic. At first she was unable to understand this and then she
remembered.
In the early days Eugenia had not liked their friendship with the woman
who was then calling herself Lady Dorian. Indeed, in Eugenia fashion she
had frankly stated this fact to the older woman. Now how much less might
she care for their intimacy with the exiled Russian. Yet Sonya was
going as an uninvited guest to Eugenia's home.
There had been no time to ask permission. It was true Barbara had
written the entire story to Eugenia as soon as Sonya Valesky was
released from prison. But one could not tell whether the letter would
reach France as soon as the four travelers.
Nona felt that she would have given a great deal to have assured Sonya
of Eugenia's welcome, but she was nervous over the situation herself.
Of course, Eugenia would be kind to the exiled woman and offer her
hospitality and care. But Eugenia had rigid views of life and was not
given to concealing them. It was more than possible that she might let
Sonya know of her disapproval. Moreover, she might object to Nona's own
championship of Sonya and to her purpose to return with her to the
United States and there make their future home together.
Of course, no views of Eugenia's would interfere with this intention of
Nona's. But the younger girl would be sorry of Eugenia's disapproval,
since she too had learned to have the greatest affection and admiration
for the oldest of the four American Red Cross girls. However, there was
nothing to do except to wait and meet the situation when the time came.
Actually it was a month between the day of leaving Petrograd and the day
when the four travelers arrived in southern France in the neighborhood
of the Chateau d'Amélie. But this was because the girls and Sonya had
spent some little time in London before attempting to cross the channel.
London was a delightful experience for the three American Red Cross
girls. In some fashion the story of their varied service to the Allied
cause had reached the London newspapers. For several days there were
columns devoted to their praise. Later, invitations poured in upon them
from every direction. Mildred was most conspicuous, since the story of
her presentation by the Czar with the Cross of St. George was copied
from the Russian newspapers into the English, and must have ultimately
reached the United States press.
But the girls were not thinking of themselves or their work. They
simply gave themselves up to the pleasure of meeting delightful English
people and being entertained by them. Sonya would not go about with
them, but appeared stronger and more content, so there was no point in
worrying over her.
One of the English women, who was again gracious to the three American
girls, was the Countess of Sussex, at whose home they had spent a
week-end on their first arrival in England several years before. Once
more she invited them to her country home, but this time it was
impossible for the girls to accept her invitation. However, Nona
recalled her meeting in the old rose garden near the gardener's cottage
with Lieutenant Robert Hume. She also thought of Lieutenant Hume's last
letter telling her that he had been sent back to England as an exchanged
prisoner because of his health. But when Nona inquired for the young
English lieutenant, the Countess' expression checked further curiosity.
Suddenly she appeared very unhappy and distressed.
"Robert is not in England," she said hastily. "He has been sent away to
try to recover, but we do not dare hope too much."
At the moment Nona did not feel that she had the courage to ask where
the young man had gone nor from what he was trying to recover.
Actually it was one afternoon in late February, when the three Red Cross
girls and Sonya came at last to the village of Le Pretre, near the
forest of the same name.
There they found old François awaiting them in a carriage that must have
belonged to the Second Empire. It was toward twilight and on a February
afternoon, yet after the cold of the northern countries where the girls
had been for the past winter, the atmosphere had the appeal of spring.
It was not warm, yet there was a gentleness in the air and a suggestion
of green on the bare branches of the trees.
François drove them in state to the little "Farmhouse with the Blue
Front Door." But this afternoon the door was standing open and on the
threshold was Madame, the Countess, with both white hands extended in
welcome.
She wore the same black dress and the same point of lace over her white
hair. And by her side stood Monsieur Le Duc, more solemn and splendid
than ever and as gravely welcoming of his guests as the Countess
herself.
Madame explained that Eugenia had been unable to leave the hospital to
be at home to greet her friends, but hoped to see them in a few days. In
the meantime they were to feel more than welcome in the farmhouse and in
the old chateau, when they cared to come to her there.
Then the Countess said good-by and allowed François to take her home.
She knew that her guests were weary and her courtesy was too perfect to
permit herself the privilege of a longer conversation, no matter how
much she might be yearning for companionship.
The little house itself was warm and light with welcome. There was a
fire in the living room and the four beds upstairs smelled of lavender
and roses.
The girls took their old rooms, except that Sonya was allotted the
bedroom that had once been Eugenia's.