A WAR BRIDE.
Marrying in Paris was certainly a much easier matter than it had been
almost two years before when Molly Brown and Edwin Green had struggled
to have the nuptial knot tied. Judy's baptismal certificate was not
demanded as had been Molly's, and the long waiting for research work, as
Kent expressed it, was not required. Mere Tricot undertook to engineer
the affair and did it with such expedition that it could have been
accomplished even before Judy got her trunk from Giverny.
It was very nice to have one's trunk again, although it really was
embarrassing to take up so much of the Tricots' living room with the
huge American affair.
"It seems funny to be married without any trousseau," Judy confided to
Mere Tricot.
"No trousseau! And what is in that great box if not trousseau?"
"I am sure I don't know. I really haven't any clothes to speak of that I
can remember," declared Judy.
"Well, let us see them!" begged Marie and her belle mere.
They were dying of curiosity to peep into the great box, so Judy
unpacked for their benefit, and their eyes opened wide at her stack of
shirt waists and lingerie and her many shoes.
"Two more suits and a great coat, silk dresses--at least three of
them--and skirts and shirts of duck and linen!" exclaimed Marie. "And
hats and gloves--and blouses enough for three! Not many war brides will
boast such a trousseau."
So our bride began to feel that in comparison to the little Marie, she
had so much that she must not worry about wedding clothes. Instead, she
divided her store of riches, and making up a bundle with a silk dress
and some blouses and lingerie, a suit and a hat, she hid it in Mere
Tricot's linen press for Marie to find when she, Judy, was married and
gone over the seas.
She well knew that the French girl would not accept the present unless
it were given to her in a very tactful way, and just to find it in the
linen press with her name on it and the donor out of reach seemed to
Judy the most diplomatic method.
Madame le Marquise d'Ochte must be looked up again. Not only were Kent
and Judy very fond of her, but they knew they could not show their faces
to Mrs. Brown unless they had seen her dear Sally Bolling. This time
they found her in the old home in the Faubourg. She had been to the
front and come back to get her house in readiness for the wounded.
Could this be the gay and volatile Marquise, this sad looking,
middle-aged woman? She had grown almost thin during those few months of
the war. Her beautiful Titian hair was now streaked with grey. Judy
remembered with a choking feeling the first time she had come to the
Ochte home on that night soon after Molly and her mother had arrived
in Paris, when they had dined in the Faubourg and then gone to hear
_Louise_ at the Opera. The Marquise had been radiant in black velvet and
diamonds, a beautiful, gay woman that one could hardly believe to be the
mother of Philippe. She had looked so young, so sparkling. She had said
at one time that she allowed no grey hairs to stay in her head, but had
her maid pull them out no matter how it hurt. Now it would take all a
maid's time to keep down the grey hairs in that head, and would leave
but a scant supply for a coiffure could they be extracted.
Kent thought she looked more like his mother and loved her for it. Her
greeting was very warm and her interest great in what Judy and Kent had
been doing and what they meant to do. She received them in the great
salon that had been converted into a hospital ward. All of the Louis
Quinze furniture had been stored away in an upper chamber and now in its
place were long rows of cots. The floor was bare of the handsome rugs
which had been the delight and envy of Judy on former visits, and now
the parquetted boards were frotted to a point of cleanliness that no
germ would have dared to violate.
"I left the pictures for the poor fellows to look at--that is, those
who are spared their eyesight," she said sadly. "My hospital opens
to-morrow, but I want the privilege of giving a wedding breakfast to you
young people. I can well manage it in the small _salle a manger_. That
is left as it was."
"Oh, you are so kind, but dear old Mere Tricot is making a great cake
for us and she would be sad indeed if she could not give the breakfast,"
explained Judy.
"That is as it should be," said the Marquise kindly, "but am I invited?"
"Invited! Of course you are invited, and the Marquis and Philippe if
they can be got hold of."
"They are still in camp and have not gone to the fore, so I will manage
to reach them. Jean is very busy, drilling all the time, but a family
wedding must be attended. Philippe is learning to fly," and she closed
her eyes a moment as though to shut out the remembrance of accidents
that happen all the time to the daring aviators.
Judy wondered if he had come in contact with Josephine Perkins, but said
nothing as it was a deep secret that Jo was passing off as a man and a
word might give her away.
"There are many Americans in the aviation camp, and very clever and apt
they are, Philippe says. I am proud of my countrymen for coming forward
as they are."
"Yes, I think it is great for them to. I--I--think I ought not to marry
Kent and go off and leave so much work to be done. I ought to help.
Don't you think so, Cousin Sally?" asked Judy.
The Marquise smiled at Judy's calling her cousin, smiled and liked it.
Kent looked uneasy and a little sullen. Suppose his Judy should balk at
the last minute and refuse to leave the stirring scenes of war! What
then? He had sworn not to return to United States without her, and
unless he did return in a very short time, the very good job he had
picked up in New York would be filled by some more fortunate and less
in love young architect.
"Why, my dear, it is not the duty of all American girls to stay on this
side and nurse any more than it is the duty of all American men to stay
here and fight. Only those must do it who are called, as it were, by the
spirit. You must marry my young cousin and go back to United States, and
there your duty will begin, not only to make him the brave, fine wife
that I know it is in you to make, but also to remember suffering France
and Belgium. There is much work waiting for you. This war will last for
years, thanks to that same Belgium who threw herself in the breach and
stopped the tide of Prussians flowing into France. If it had not been
for Belgium, the war would have been over now--yes, over--but France
would have been under the heel of the tyrant and Belgium off of the map.
Thank God for that brave little country!" and Judy and Kent bowed their
heads as at a benediction.
Kent kissed the Marquise for her sensible advice. He very well knew that
Judy would have been a great acquisition to his cousin's hospital, and
that workers were not numerous (not so plentiful at the beginning of the
war as they were later). Her advice was certainly unselfish. He thanked
her, also, for realizing that it was not up to all American men to stay
and fight. He had no desire to fight any one unless his own country was
at war, and then he felt he would do his duty as his ancestors had done
before him.
"I tell you what we'll do, you children and I: I'll order out the car--I
still keep one and a chauffeur so that with it I can bring the wounded
back to Paris--and we will go out to the aviation camp and see Philippe
and ask him to the wedding. You would like to see the camp, eh?"
"Above all things!" exclaimed Kent and Judy in chorus.
The broad grassy field, bordered by houses, sheds and workshops,
presented a busy scene as the Ochte car drove up. Biplanes were parked
to one side like so many automobiles at a reception in a city, or
buggies at a county seat on court day in an American town. The field was
swarming with men, all eagerly watching a tiny speck off in the blue sky
in the direction of the trenches where the French had called a halt on
the Germans' insolent and triumphant march to Paris.
No more attempt was made to stop the car of Madame the Marquise from
coming into the aviation camp than there would have been had she been
Joffre himself.
"They know me very well," she said in answer to Kent's inquiry as to
this phenomenon, as he well knew they were very strict about visitors in
camp. "I am ever a welcome guest here, not only because they know I love
them, but because of something I bring." She pointed to a great hamper
of goodies packed in by the chauffeur.
The car was surrounded by eager and courteous young aviators and
soldiers, and Kent and Judy well knew it was not all for the _gateaux_
that the Marquise was so beloved. Philippe was summoned and clasped in
his mother's arms. Her heart cried out that every time might be the
last.
The Marquise was changed but her son even more so. His dilettantish
manner was gone for good, as was also his foppish beard. His face, clean
shaven except for a small moustache, was brown and lean; his mouth had
taken on purpose; his eyes were no longer merely beautiful but now had
depth of expression and a look of pity, as though he had seen much
sorrow.
He was greatly pleased to see his cousin Kent and also Miss Kean, who,
of course, he thought had gone back to America long ago. He remembered
Judy always as the young lady he came so near loving. Indeed, he would
have addressed her when Molly Brown had refused him, had he not been
made to understand by his fair cousin how important it was to love with
one's whole soul if married happiness was to be expected. He had, after
that, gone very slowly in possible courtships. Molly's friend, Frances
Andrews, had almost been his choice, but there was something of
fineness lacking in her that deterred him in time, and he was in a
measure relieved when that dashing young woman proceeded to marry an
impoverished Italian prince. His mother was relieved beyond measure at
what she could not but look on as her Philippe's escape. In fact, she
had never seen but one girl she thought would be just right for her
beloved son and that was Molly Brown.
Philippe was told of Kent's being shipwrecked and of Judy's having taken
up her abode with the Tricots. This last bit of information amused him
greatly. Judy told with much sprightliness of her serving in the shop
and of her learning to make tarts. Philippe began to look upon his
cousin Kent as a very lucky dog. He sighed when he promised to come to
the wedding breakfast, that is, if he could get leave. Why did all of
the charming American girls pass him by?
"_J'ai la France et ma mere_," he muttered, as his arm crept around the
waist of that beloved mother.
"What are they all looking at so intently?" asked Judy.
"Why, that is a daring young American aviator who has gone to seek some
information concerning the trenches of our friends the enemy. He is a
strange, quiet little fellow. No one ever gets a word out of him but he
has learned to manage his machine quicker than any of the nouveaux, and
now is intrusted to carry out all kinds of dangerous orders. He looks
like a boy sometimes and sometimes when he is tired, like a strange
little old man. He is not very friendly but is quick at repartee and so
the fellows let him alone. Speaks French like a Parisian. I have seen
him before somewhere, but can't place him. I asked him once and he was
quite stiff and said I had the advantage of him. Of course I didn't like
to force myself on him after that, but I'd really like to be friendly if
he would let me. See, here he comes! Look!"
They watched in silence the aeroplane sinking in a lovely spiral glide.
As it sank to rest on the greensward, many hands were outstretched to
assist the grotesque little figure to alight. Judy recognized in an
instant the person she had thought all the time Philippe was describing.
It was, of course, Jo Bill Perkins. She was swathed in a dark leather
coat and breeches, with a strange shaped cap coming down over her ears.
The great goggles she wore could not deceive Judy.
"What is his name?" she asked Philippe.
"Williams is all I know, J. Williams."
"I believe I know him. Would you mind taking him my card and asking him
to come speak to me?"
"Not a bit, but I don't believe he will come. Let him make his report
first, and then I will tell him you are here. You are very charming and
fetching, Mademoiselle, but I doubt your being able to bring Williams to
your feet."