When Nanine and Paulette came down the great stairway a few minutes
later, the girl was trembling with excitement. She was dressed in
the field uniform of an army nurse. Her cheeks were flushed, her
eyes feverishly bright. The letter telling of her commission had
just reached her that morning and the long-prepared costume was
donned for the first time.
"Are you sure you remember the message, Nanine?" she asked. "Tell me
again what it said."
Patiently the old woman repeated the words.
"I have told you, dearie," she said, "'Sains--to-morrow--at
daybreak!'"
"Sains, that's not far away! But I must be sure, Nanine. I must be
sure! I must see the note. Where is it? Where is it?"
Nanine crossed heavily to the little desk. Not finding what she
sought, she uttered a sharp exclamation. The girl flew to her side.
"What is it, Nanine? What is it?" she cried fearfully.
The old woman looked up at her blankly.
"It's gone!" she gasped.
Paulette echoed her words, her eyes wide and frightened.
"Gone?"
Nanine rummaged frantically.
"Oh, my dearie," she wailed, "I put it here, a bit of paper with
'Sains--to-morrow--at daybreak' written on it. Where can it be?
Where can it be?"
Paulette stood watching her breathlessly.
"Nanine," her voice shook, "there is something wrong!"
The old woman stopped in her search.
"Will harm come to him, dearie?" she quavered.
"Oh, Nanine," cried the girl, terror beating at her heart, "I don't
know--I'm afraid!"
"_Mon petit chou!_" soothed the old woman. "What does the loss of
the paper matter? I remember the words, 'Sains--to-morrow--at
daybreak,'" but her deep breast rose and fell with some of the terror
that was shaking her young mistress.
"Someone has stolen it!" said Paulette miserably. "What good does it
do for you to remember? Maurice will be taken back to prison,
perhaps shot!" The thought sent her hand to her throat in terror.
"Shot!" Nanine stared at her, frightened. "What shall we do?" she
cried.
"We must get word to father."
In all Paulette's short life her father had always been her refuge in
time of trouble. He would know what to do.
"Oh, Nanine, why didn't you bring it to me at once? Why didn't you?"
The old woman shook her head sadly. For the sake of those few last
moments with her boy this new trouble had come upon them.
"Perhaps Madame can help us," she said; "let us ask her!"
"Where is she?" asked Paulette eagerly. "Go find her at once! I'll
go to her room, she may be there!"
The old woman hurried out and Paulette had just crossed the threshold
into the shadows of the outer hall when, through the long window,
came Marie. Paulette turned and watched her curiously as she went
straight to the little desk.
The sunlight of the garden was still in Marie's eyes, and she did not
see the girl standing in the doorway. One glance was enough to show
her that the note was gone. The Fate of France was on the knees of
the gods. She had done her best. Turning, she found herself facing
Paulette, whose eyes blazed with rage and hatred.
"So," she cried, "it's you!"
Marie recoiled. For a moment she failed to recognize the girl in her
nurse's garb. When she did, her face went white.
"I knew I suspected you with reason," went on Paulette furiously, "no
one else could have taken it. No one would be interested. Here, we
are all friends, working for each other, but you----" and at the
scorn in her voice, Marie cowered away from her.
"Don't--please," she breathed.
Paulette shook her roughly by the shoulders.
"Where is it?" she cried, "the paper that was here; where is it?"
Marie's heart stopped beating. What could Paulette know of the paper?
"God!" she gasped.
Her sister-in-law looked at her, sorrow struggling with hate.
"Why did you? Why did you?" she asked. "What have I done? What has
Maurice done?"
Marie leaned away from her in astonishment.
"Maurice?" she asked.
"My sweetheart," went on Paulette, "in a German prison. He was to
escape! You have stolen the note telling where he is to be. What
have you done with it?"
Marie started. In a flash she understood that she and Paulette were
thinking of different things. Von Pfaffen had undoubtedly found her
own note. But if there had been two notes? Would this not create
confusion and suspicion in his mind and so defeat her plan after all?
"Listen," she said hurriedly, "I did not take it! I swear I did not
take it. If someone has it, we must get there before it is too late!
We must save Maurice. Where is he?"
"How can I trust you?" began Paulette bitterly.
For a long moment the two women stared at each other. At last Marie
spoke.
"Tell me--where is he?" she repeated. "Tell me, or you will regret
it all your life!"
There was something so convincing in the tone of her voice that
Paulette found herself believing in spite of herself. Unconsciously
their positions were changed; it was Marie who now stood firm and
sure of herself, Paulette who trembled.
"He will be at Sains--to-morrow--at daybreak," she whispered.
Marie's eyes slowly dilated, her face froze into the expression of an
ancient Greek tragic mask. From the depths of her very soul came a
groan of anguish. Tensely she repeated the words:
"Sains--to-morrow--at daybreak!"
She had thought her plan so sure, so certain to aid her husband's
cause, but whichever way she turned, she seemed doomed to bring
misery to those she loved. She knew that Von Pfaffen was already
well on his way to the enemy. The words she had written were stamped
on her memory. What evil spirit had made her choose Sains? Sains,
where to-morrow at daybreak, Paulette's sweetheart, having risked his
life for liberty, would only be reaching this haven of safety as the
guns of the enemy were turned against its walls.
Paulette looked at her, frightened.
"What is it?" she whispered. At last Marie spoke, the words coming
through her stiff lips in jerking, staccato tones:
"You must go to him," she said; "you must go now, at once."
Go to him herself! The thought staggered her. The difficulty! The
danger! The horrible country she must cross before she should arrive
at Sains, where battles were even now raging!
"Oh, how can I go?" she cried, covering her eyes. "Out there in the
midst of all those horrors! How can I?"
"There is no time to lose," urged Marie, "you are going to the man
you love."
Slowly Paulette lifted her brown head.
"Can I? Dare I?" she murmured.
In the distance she could hear the sound of the guns, which all
morning had been growing louder and louder, sometimes swelling into a
roar which seemed to shake the very earth.
Marie put her hand on her arm, her whole body vibrating with emotion.
"Listen," she said, "the Germans are to make an attack on Sains
to-morrow at daybreak!"
Paulette uttered a cry.
"How do you know this? What are you? Who are you?"
"Don't ask me how I know," went on Marie, "don't ask me anything,
only for God's sake go to Sains! Warn the town! Warn the commanding
General! O hurry, hurry, there is not a moment to lose!"
Paulette stared at her fiercely, her hatred and distrust returning
and blazing from her eyes.
"I knew you were a spy," she cried. "I knew I hated you with reason.
Tell me how you know this, tell me, tell me!"
Into Marie's heart came a great sadness, her punishment was
beginning. How could this girl believe her? Would anyone ever trust
her?
"Your note was stolen," she said. "The one who has it is taking it
to the enemy! I know! I tried to help my husband's cause, but in
doing so I have endangered Maurice's life. Oh, Paulette, I thought
that what I did was for the best. Don't look at me like that. Some
day you will understand!"
Paulette was wild with rage. This woman whom they had made one of
themselves, whom her parents had taken to their hearts and given the
position due the wife of their beloved son, had betrayed them. But
there was a punishment for such as she.
"I'll have you shot," she panted. "I'll have the soldiers drag you
to prison for the spy that you are----" but Marie was at her side.
"Paulette," she said earnestly, "will you allow your hatred and
distrust of me to stand in the way of doing a great service for
France and saving Maurice? There is no doubt that the Germans will
attack Sains to-morrow at dawn. I need not tell you what it would
mean to your countrymen to know this and prepare for their coming.
If you do not heed me, you will never know happiness again! This is
the opportunity of your whole life to serve the cause you love. Do
not cast it aside! Go to Sains! Save the city! Save your love,
then come back and do whatever you will to me, only, for God's sake,
hurry!"
Her voice was so earnest, so vibrant with the desire that prompted
her, that in spite of her suspicion the girl paused and looked into
her eyes.
"If I could only trust you," she said.
Quick to sense the momentary lowering of the barriers, Marie put a
pleading hand on her arm.
"You can," she said, "oh, do believe me. The cause you love is as
dear to me as to you. You must go, there is no other way!" Her eyes
rested on the little insignia on the collar of the girl's costume,
and mentally following her gaze, Paulette became suddenly aware of
her uniform. This would be the means of reaching Maurice. Her hands
would nurse him after all. He would be her first patient.
Her eyes cleared of the vision of blood and terror, the hatred and
distrust died in her heart. Her shoulders squared with the strength
of her father, her chin lifted with her mother's poise.
"I'll go," she said. "I am a soldier's daughter! I am to be a
soldier's bride! I'll go!"
"Go now," urged Marie; "it isn't far. I swear I didn't take it.
Won't you believe me? It isn't your happiness that is threatened.
Oh, believe me! Believe me!"
"If I am only in time," breathed Paulette, as she turned to go.
Marie followed her to the window.
"Little sister," she pleaded, "you at least I would save unhappiness.
God speed!" and suddenly, believing, Paulette turned and flung her
arms about her neck, then with her head held high, she went out
through the garden.
Marie watched her go. How many partings there had been in these
short hours. She watched Nanine close and bar the heavy gates after
the slender figure, drying her eyes with the back of her hand as she
did so.
"'Sains--to-morrow--at dawn!'" the words were burned into her brain.
Her head went down on her arms across the little desk.
From the depths of the garden, Madame saw the girl go through the
gate, and hurried into the salon. Her quick step in the hall roused
Marie. She rose to meet her.
"She has gone, _ma mère_," she told her gently; "she has gone to the
man she loves."
"Gone--my little Paulette, gone? Out there, without a word to me,"
her face was suddenly old, gray, the lines about her mouth seemed
drawn with a shaded pencil.
"A message came this morning," said Marie; "it told of Maurice's
escape. Someone has intercepted it, and Paulette, fearing for his
safety, has gone to him."
"We have been waiting for this message," said Madame, "but Paulette,
alone! Out there!" She looked toward the horizon from whence came
the deep-throated roar of the guns, savage and menacing.
Quite suddenly she broke down. Bowing her proud head in her hands
she wept bitterly.
Marie stood beside her, silent, until just as suddenly she gained
control of herself again. The white head rose proudly, the bright
brown eyes shone bravely through their tears.
"I am glad she has gone," she said. "I would not have it otherwise.
She must go to help the man she loves, if she can! I'm glad she was
brave enough to go."
Marie looked at her wonderingly. How fine she was, how strong and
true. Why could she not have been as brave as this? She saw herself
as she had been, a pitiful, weak creature, almost ready to sell her
soul to tie herself like a millstone about the neck of the man she
loved. She knew that even now she was dreading the scorn she would
see in this kind face when she knew all the truth concerning her.
But she thought of Gerome, with his lofty ideals; she thought of
Paulette forgetting her dread of the horrors "out there," taking her
young life into her hands willingly, eagerly, to serve, if she could,
both France and the man she loved, and she knew that she, too, would
accept her martyrdom gladly for the cause that was theirs.