JOHN'S RESOLVE
John stood weakly, and with heart palpitating, but it was only for a few
moments. Strength poured back in a full tide, and he said to
Bougainville:
"You'll let me go back with you?"
"Of course, but there's heavy fighting ahead. Messages warned us in the
night that the Germans had broken through, and ever since the storm
stopped the wireless has been talking to us, giving us the exact
details. We've been marching for hours. My regiment was the first to
cross the river but, as you see, others are close behind."
"And you command them all?"
The eyes of the former Apache of Montmartre glittered.
"Yes," he replied. "It was an honor that General Vaugirard assigned to
me. I lead the vanguard."
Except the radiance from his eyes he showed no emotion. John noticed
that his features were cast in the antique mold. The pallor and thinness
of his face accentuated his powerful features, and once more John was
reminded of the portraits of the young Napoleon. Could there be such a
thing as reincarnation? But he remembered that while a new mind like
Napoleon's might be possible a new career like Napoleon's was not. Then
all thoughts of any kind upon the subject were driven from his mind by
the flash of firing that came from Chastel.
The rifles were rattling fast, and with them soon came the heavy crash
of artillery. Bougainville ran up and down his lines, but, to John's
surprise, he was holding his men back, rather than urging them on. But
he quickly saw the reason. He heard the hissing and shrieking of shells
over his head and he saw them bursting in Chastel. The fire increased so
fast and became so tremendous in volume that all the French lay down in
the snow, and John put his fingers in his ears lest he be deafened.
He understood the purpose of the French commander. It was to hurl a
continuous shower of steel upon the enemy, and then when it ceased the
French were to charge. Raising his head a little he saw the ruined
buildings of Chastel melting away entirely under the tremendous fire of
the great French field guns. House after house was springing into flames
and wall after wall was crumbling down in fragments. German guns were
replying fast, but their position amid falling masonry was much worse
than that of the French in the open.
John was lying in the snow near Bougainville, with the shells from both
sides hissing and shrieking in a storm over their heads. He was used to
being under fire and he knew that none of these missiles was intended
for them, but he could not restrain a quiver of apprehension now and
then, lest some piece of shrapnel, falling short, should find him. It
was always the shrapnel with the hideous whine and shriek and its
tearing wound that they dreaded most. The clean little rifle bullet,
which if it did not kill did not hurt much, was infinitely more welcome.
"How long will this go on?" John asked of Bougainville; his voice could
be heard as an undertone in the roar of the battle.
"Not long, because at present we have the advantage. The Germans know
that they're worse off in the town than they would be outside. Our guns
are bringing tons and tons of brick and stone about their ears. Hark to
our splendid artillery, Mr. Scott! See how it sweeps Chastel!"
The French fire always increasing in volume was most accurate and
deadly. The famous seventy-five-millimeter gun was again proving itself
the most terrible of mobile field weapons. As walls fell, pyramids of
fire shot up in many places, casting a sinister glow over the snowy
earth. But above everything rose the lofty and beautiful spire of the
Gothic cathedral, still untouched.
All the time the moonlight had been steadily growing more brilliant.
Save where the burning houses and the flashing of the cannon cast a red
glow a veil of silver mist, which brightened rather than obscured, hung
over the snow. John distinctly saw Germans in the town and often, too,
he saw them fall.
A man with a bugle was lying in the snow near Bougainville and the
little colonel reached over and touched him. John saw the soldier put
the instrument to his lips, as if he would make ready, and he knew that
an important movement was at hand. He tautened his own figure that he
might be ready. The artillery fire behind them ceased suddenly. The air
there had been roaring with thunder, and then all at once it became as
silent as the grave. The bugler leaped to his feet and blew a long and
mellow note. The Bougainville regiment and other regiments both right
and left sprang up and, with a short, fierce shout, rushed upon the
town. John, his automatic in his hand, charged with them, keeping close
to Bougainville.
A scattering fire of bullets carried away many, but John knew that he
was not touched. Neither was Bougainville, who, like Bonaparte at Lodi
or Arcola, was now leading his men in person, waving aloft a small
sword, and continually shouting to his children to follow him. The
French fell fast, but they reached the first line of the houses, and
then they sent a deadly hail of their own bullets upon the defenders.
Every street and alley in Chastel was swept by the fire of the French.
John heard above the crash of the rifles the incessant rattling of the
machine guns, and then, as they opened out, the roar of the
seventy-five-millimeters added to the terrible tumult. The Germans,
withdrawing to the far edge and taking what shelter they could, replied,
also with cannon, machine guns and rifles.
John saw Chastel already in ruins fairly melting away. Caught as it must
have been in the former action it came tumbling, stone and brick walls
and all to the ground. Detached fires were burning at many places, and
a great pyramid of flame leaped up from a point where the Hôtel de
l'Europe stood. The cathedral alone, as if by some singular chance,
seemed to be untouched. The lofty Gothic spire shot up in the silver
moonlight, and towered white and peaceful over fighting Gaul and Teuton.
John looked up at it more than once, as he fired a rifle, that he had
picked up, down the street at the fleeting shadows.
He was filled with an unreasoning rage. He did not hate any one of the
Germans who were fighting on the other side of Chastel, but the anger
that seized him when he found Julie missing was still heavy upon him.
Before, whenever he had fired at an enemy he had usually felt a secret
hope that the bullet would miss, but now he prayed that every one would
hit. Bougainville pulled him down. "Not too fast! Not too fast!" he
said. "You're worth more alive than dead. We'll soon drive them from
Chastel anyhow. The seventy-fives are doing the work."
Bougainville had read the story of the battle aright. The great
seventy-five-millimeter guns were too much for the German force. As the
houses of Chastel were swept away the enemy on the other side was left
exposed, and the Germans, despite their courage and energy, were cut
down fast. Aid for the French was coming continually. New regiments
rushed up the snowy slopes. John heard a shout behind him, and Captain
Colton and the Strangers coming from afar rushed into the battle. As
they were about to swing past John joined Wharton and Carstairs.
"We thought you were gone forever this time," shouted Carstairs. "There
seems to be a special Providence for you Yankees!"
"It's skill, not luck, that counts!" exclaimed Wharton.
John joined them, and Bougainville, taking command of the whole battle,
directed the charge upon the town. The spirits of the French were at the
highest, and shouting tremendously they soon passed through Chastel and
drove the enemy beyond it, headlong into the forest. Having superior
numbers now, a better knowledge of the ground and led by a man of genius
like Bougainville, they soon broke up the German force, capturing a part
of it, while the rest fleeing eastward, burst through the French
trenches, and, after further heavy losses, succeeded in getting back to
the main German army.
The pursuit was carried on some time by the French cavalry which had
appeared as the last charge was made, but Bougainville, with the clear
note of trumpets, recalled the infantry. He was satisfied with the
victory that had been won in Chastel, and he did not wish to exhaust his
troops with vain rushes in the deep snow.
The Strangers halted with the rest, and John, coming out of the red rage
that had possessed his soul, saw that Captain Colton was uninjured and
that Carstairs and Wharton, who stood near him, had only scratches.
"Grazed four times," said Carstairs happily. "The bullets knew a good
man when they saw him, and turned aside just in time to give him slight
but honorable wounds."
"Two scratches for me, too," said Wharton.
"Which proves what I told you," said Carstairs, "that it was often luck,
not skill, that saved you."
"Both count," said Captain Colton, tersely. "Napoleon had immense skill.
Suppose bad luck had sent a bullet into his heart in his first battle in
Italy. Would have been forgotten in a day. And if no bullet had ever
touched him, wouldn't have amounted to much, without immense skill."
"Do we go back to Chastel, sir?" asked John.
"Back to what's left of it. Not much, I think. See nothing but Gothic
tower!"
John looked up. The great Gothic spire hung over a scene of desolation
and ruin, now complete save for the cathedral itself. Otherwise not an
undamaged house remained in Chastel. Fires still smoldered, and the
largest of them all, marked where the Hôtel de l'Europe had stood. The
firing had ceased save for a distant murmur where the cavalry still
pursued, and John choked as he gazed at ruined Chastel. He looked most
often at the burning Hôtel de l'Europe where he had spent such happy
hours, the happiest, in truth, of his life, hours that glowed. He could
see as vividly, as if it were all real again, Julie and himself at the
little table by the window, and Antoine and Suzanne serving. He choked,
and for a little while he could not reply to Wharton's question:
"Why, Scott, what's struck you? You look as if you had lost your last
friend!"
"Wharton," replied John at last, "I found Mademoiselle Lannes and her
servants, Antoine and Suzanne Picard here, come as requested by letter,
to meet her brother Philip. I found them in the cathedral waiting, and
we went to the Hôtel de l'Europe, where she and I dined together."
"Good Heavens! You don't mean to say she was there under the awful fire
of our guns?"
"No, else I should not have been with you. Weber, the trusty Alsatian,
of whom you know, came to us in the town. It was he who had borne the
letter from Philip to Mademoiselle Julie. We thought we saw Germans in
the outskirts of Chastel. We did not find any, but when we came back to
the Hôtel de l'Europe, where we left them, Mademoiselle Julie and her
servants, the Picards, were gone."
"Perhaps they were alarmed by the German advance and have taken refuge
somewhere in the woods. If so, it will be easy to find them, Scott."
"No, they're not there. They're in the hands of the enemy. I shouldn't
mind it so much if she were merely a captive of the Germans, but that
man Auersperg has taken her again."
"How can you possibly know that to be true, Scott?"
Then John told the story of the register, and of the successive writing
of the names. Cotton heard him, too, and his face was very grave.
"It's a pity Bougainville couldn't have come earlier," he said. "We
might not only have saved Mademoiselle Julie but have captured this
Prince of Auersperg as well. Then we should indeed have had a prize. But
the wireless could not talk through all the storm and we had no warning
of the German movement until the snowfall died down."
"What are we going to do?" asked John.
"We'll stay on the site of Chastel at least until morning, which can't
be far away."
John looked at his watch.
"It will be daylight in two hours," he said.
"Oh, by the way," exclaimed Carstairs, "what became of Weber?"
"We were making our escape in Mademoiselle Lannes' automobile when we
ran into a detachment of Germans. Our car was riddled; we both dodged
for shelter and that was the last I saw of him."
"He escaped. I wager a pound to a shilling on it. The Alsatian not only
has borrowed the nine lives of a cat, but he has nine original ones of
his own."
"I feel sure, like you, Carstairs, that he has escaped and I certainly
hope so. He's a clever man who has the faculty of turning up at the
right time."
"It promises to be a clear dawn," said Wharton. "You may not believe it,
Carstairs, but I'm a fine weather prophet in my own country, and if I
can do so well there I ought at least to do as well with the low-grade
weather supplied by an inferior continent like Europe."
"It's no wonder they call you a mad Yankee, Wharton. Low-grade weather!
Have you any fog that can equal our London variety?"
"It's quality, not quantity that counts with a superior, intellectual
people such as we are."
"Intellect! It's luck! I don't remember his name, but he was a
discerning Frenchman, who said that a special Providence watched over
drunken men and Americans."
"A special Providence watches over only those who have superior merit."
"I think," said John, "that I'm bound to take a little rest, if Captain
Colton will let me."
"Oh, he'll let you if you ask him," said Carstairs. "You're a particular
favorite of his, although I can't understand why. Wharton and I are much
more deserving. But you do look all played out, old fellow."
John had sustained a sudden collapse. Intense emotion and immense
physical exertion, continued so long, could be endured no longer, and he
felt as if he would fall in the snow. But a portion of the victorious
force was to remain at Chastel, and some tents had been pitched. Captain
Colton readily gave John permission to enter one of them and roll
himself in the blankets.
It was still an hour of dawn, but the night was light. Fires yet burned
here and there in Chastel, where not a single building now stood
unharmed, save the cathedral. The mutter of the cannon came from the
vast front both to east and to west.
John looked into the great misty world and his face was turned toward
the east. He had no doubt that Auersperg had gone in that direction with
Julie, and he meant to find her. But how? He prayed silently for the
coming of Lannes with the _Arrow._ For such a search as this the swift
aeroplane could serve while one might plod in vain over the ground.
Lannes would come before the next night! He must come! If he had made an
appointment for such a meeting nothing could delay him more than a day.
He did not have any great fear for Julie's present safety. The modern
civilized world had suddenly broken loose from many of its anchors, but
so conspicuous a man as Auersperg could not stain his name with a deed
that would brand him throughout Europe. Weber, however, had spoken of a
morganatic marriage, and fearful pressure might be brought to bear. A
country so energetic and advanced as Germany had clung, nevertheless, to
many repellent principles of medievalism. A nation listened with calm
acceptance and complacency, while its Kaiser claimed a partnership, and
not altogether a junior partnership either, with the Almighty. Much
could be forgiven to an Auersperg, the head of a house that had been
princely more than a thousand years. John shuddered.
He had not gone to the tent at once as he intended. His nerves were yet
leaping and he knew now that they must become quiet before he could
sleep. Men were moving about him, carrying the wounded or helping with
the camp, but they were only misty forms in the white gloom. Looking
again toward the east he saw a silver bar appear just below the horizon.
He knew it was the bright vanguard that heralded the coming sun, and his
imaginative, susceptible mind beheld in it once more an omen. It
beckoned him toward the east, and hope rose strong in his heart.
"Wharton," he said, "I suppose we'll stay awhile in Chastel."
"So I hear. Until noon at least."
"Then you wake me three hours from now. It will be enough sleep at such
a time, and I want to be up when Lannes comes. You promise?"
"Certainly, Scott, I'll do it, though you'll probably swear at me for
bothering you. Still, I'm ready to do any unpleasant duty for a friend
when he asks it."
John laughed, went into the tent, rolled himself in the blankets and in
a minute was fast asleep. In another minute, as it seemed, Wharton was
pulling vigorously at his shoulder.
"Get up, Scott!" exclaimed Wharton. "Your three hours, and a half hour's
grace that I allowed you, have passed. Didn't I tell you that you'd be
ungrateful and that you'd fight against me for fulfilling your request!
Open your eyes, man, and stand up!"
John sprang to his feet, shook his head violently several times, and
then was wide awake.
"Thanks, Wharton," he said. "You're a true friend but you're a wretched
reckoner of time."
"How so?"
"You said it was three hours and a half when in reality it was only
three minutes and a half."
But a clear wintry sun was shining in at the door of the tent, and he
saw its gold across the snow. Beyond was a kitchen automobile at which
men were obtaining coffee and food.
"Has Lannes come?" asked John.
"Not yet, but of course he'll be here soon; by noon, I fancy."
John went out and took his breakfast with his comrades of the Strangers.
The morning was uncommonly bright. There was not a trace of cloud in the
heavens, which had turned to the soft, velvety blue that one sometimes
sees in winter, and which can make a man fancy that it is summer when he
looks up, rather than winter when he looks down.
While John ate and drank, he continually scanned the skies looking for
the coming of the _Arrow._ He saw aeroplanes hovering here and there
over the French and German lines, but none coming toward Chastel.
He had expected, too, that Weber might return in the morning, but he did
not reappear and John felt a distinct disappointment. Many had been
killed, but Wharton and Carstairs had reported that no body had
resembled Weber's. Then it was certain that he had not fallen. Perhaps
the Germans had driven him ahead of them, and he would rejoin the French
at some distant point.
The morning passed, slow and bright, but it did not bring Lannes.
General Vaugirard himself came about noon, a huge purring man in a huge
puffing automobile. He cast an approving eye over Bougainville's work,
and puffing his cheeks still wider whistled a low, musical note.
"It could not have been done better," he said. Then he caught sight of
John and exclaimed:
"Ah, here is our young American, he who has been transformed into a
good Frenchman! Glad am I to see you alive and unhurt, but I bring you
news which is unpleasant. Ah, well, such is life! It must be expected in
a war like this."
Alarm leaped up in John's heart. He felt instinctively that it concerned
Lannes! Was he dead? But he steadied his voice and said:
"May I ask what it is, General?"
"That young friend of yours and great servant of his nation, Philip
Lannes, the famous aviator. He has been wounded. No, don't be alarmed,
it's not mortal, but it will keep him in hospital for some time. It
happened two days ago, nearly a hundred miles west of here. He had just
landed from his aeroplane, and he was fired at by some German
skirmishers hidden in a wood. Fortunately French cavalry were near and
drove off the Germans. Lannes is so young and so healthy that his
recovery will be complete, though slow."
"What a misfortune at such a time!" exclaimed John.
"What do you mean by 'at such a time'?"
Then John related the presence of Julie Lannes in Chastel and the manner
of her capture by Auersperg. He told, too, why she had come there.
General Vaugirard puffed out his huge cheeks and whistled a note or two.
"I can't understand why Lannes should have wanted her to come to such an
exposed place," he said. "But youth is daring and doesn't always count
the risks."
Youth _was_ daring and John resolved that he would help to prove it.
"General," he said, "could I ask your aid in a little matter that
concerns me?"
"If it is not to betray our army to the Germans I think you can."
"I want you to help me to become a spy. I'll make the request to Captain
Colton, and then, if it's indorsed, I'll go eastward and see what I can
find out about the Germans."
"But I understood that she was not a German."
John reddened from brow to chin.
"I admit that much," he said, "but at the same time I intend to serve
France all I can. I might be of more help that way than as a mere minor
officer in the trenches."
"If you're successful, yes; if caught, all's lost. Hard trade, that of
spy."
"But I want to go, sir. I never wanted to do anything so much before in
my life. You'll help me, won't you?"
"But how can you go among the Germans? Your German is not the best in
the world."
"It's better than you think. I've been devoting most of my leisure to
the study of it in the last six months. Besides there are subjects of
Germany who do not speak German at all. I shall claim to be a native of
French Lorraine. I learned French in my infancy and I speak it not like
an American or an Englishman but like a Frenchman."
"That helps a lot. What's to be your new name?"
It was not a matter to which John had given any thought, but as he
glanced at the ruined town the question solved itself.
"Chastel, Castel," he said. "I shall drop the 'h' and call myself Jean
Louis Castel, born in French Lorraine in 1893, after that region had
enjoyed for more than twenty years the glorious benefits of German
military rule."
"Very well," said the General. "Now go and see Captain Colton."
Captain Colton's lips twisted into a crooked smile when he heard John.
His glance was a mingling of sympathy and apprehension. He knew the
great dangers of the quest, but he liked John Scott and he could
understand.
"John," he said, calling him by his first name, "I would not send
anybody upon such an errand as yours. You recognize the fact that the
chances are about ten to one you'll find a bullet at the end of your
search."
"I think I'll get through."
"It's a good thing to hope. I think I can procure this commission for
you from General Vaugirard. But we'll go to him at once. We'll not let
the grass grow--or rather, the snow melt under our feet while we're
about it."
John did not tell him that he had already spoken to the general, as he
wished the whole proceeding to be in perfect order.
General Vaugirard was by a fire which had been built in the Place near
the shattered fountain. Wrapped in a huge overcoat he looked truly
gigantic as he walked up and down thinking.
"Let me speak with him first," said Captain Colton.
John held back and saw the two talk together earnestly a minute or two.
Then the big general beckoned to him and as John approached he said:
"The request that you have made through Captain Colton is granted. In a
war like this is may be the good fortune of a spy to render a very great
service."
John bowed.
"Thank you, sir," he said simply.
"I understand that you wish to start at once," continued the general.
"Dress like a peasant, and look with all your eyes and listen with all
your ears. And don't forget while you're seeking the enemy's secrets
that all France loves a lover."
John flushed a deep red, and Vaugirard and Colton laughed. The general
put his hand in the most kindly fashion upon John's shoulder.
"You are one of the bravest of my children," he said, "and I have an
affection for thee, thou stalwart American youth. See to it that thou
comest back again. Thy hand, Monsieur Jean Castel, for such, I hear, is
to be your name."
John's hand was engulfed in the huge palm. General Vaugirard gave it a
great shake and turned away. Then John and Captain Colton walked back to
the place that had been allotted to the Strangers, where it soon became
known to Wharton and Carstairs that their comrade would depart that
night upon a quest, seemingly hopeless. They drew John aside:
"Scott," said Carstairs, "are you really going? It's certain death, you
know."
"A German bullet or a German rope," said Wharton, "and you'll never be
seen or heard of again. It's an ignominious end."
"As surely as the night comes I'm going," replied John to both
questions. "I understand the risks and I take them."
"I knew the answer before I asked you," said Carstairs. "You Americans
are really our children, though sometimes you're not very respectful to
your parents. They call us prosaic, but I think we're really the most
romantic of the races."
"It's proved," said Wharton, "when sober fellows like Scott go away on
such errands. I think you'll win through, Scott, in the way you wish."
John knew that the good wishes of these two friends, so undemonstrative
and so true, would follow him all the time and he choked a little. But
when the lump in his throat was gone he spoke casually, as if he were
not venturing into a region that was sown thick and deep with dragon's
teeth.
At the advice of Captain Colton he slept several hours more that
afternoon, and in the darkest part of the night, clothed simply like a
peasant, but carrying a passport that would take him through the French
lines, he said good-by to his friends, and, taking his life in his
hands, departed upon his mission. Lest he be taken for a _franc-tireur_
he was entirely unarmed, and he wore a thick blue blouse, gray trousers
equally thick, and heavy boots. He also carried, carefully concealed
about his person, a supply of gold and German notes, although there
would not be much use for money in that region of the dragon's teeth
into which he was venturing.
He re-crossed the little river on the same high-arched bridge by which
he had come, skirted the hospital camp, and then bore off toward the
east. It was past midnight, the skies were free from snow, but there
were many low, hovering clouds which suited his purpose. He was still
back of the French lines, but his pass would take him through them at
any time he wished. The problem was how to pass those of Germany, and
the difficulty was very great, because for a long distance here the
hostile trenches were only three or four hundred yards apart.
He discerned to the eastward a dim line of hills which, as he knew, rose
farther on into mountains, and it occurred to him that he might find it
easier to get through in rough country than in the region of low,
rounded hills, where he now stood. He carried a knapsack, well filled
with food, a blanket roll, and now he resolved to push on all night and
most of the following day, before passing the French lines.
Keeping a watchful eye he pursued his steady course across the hills.
The depth of the snow impeded speed, but action kept his heart strong.
The terrible waiting was over, he was at least trying to do something.
Fresh interests sprang up also. It was a strange, white, misty world
upon which he looked. He traveled through utter desolation, but to the
east, inclining to the north was a limitless double line, which now and
then broke into flashes of flame, while from points further back came
that mutter of the big guns like the groanings of huge, primeval
monsters.
It seemed to John barbarous and savage to the last degree. He knew that
he was in one of the most densely populated and highly cultivated
portions of the world, but the dragon's teeth were coming up more
thickly even than in the time of old Cadmus.
He walked until it was almost morning without seeing a human being, and
then, the snow having dragged on him so heavily, he felt that he must
take rest. Crawling into a hole in the snow that he scraped out under a
ledge, he folded himself between his blankets and went to steep.