Next morning Mildred and Eugenia went over the field hospital with a
French officer who had been sent to receive them.
Barbara and Nona, therefore, undertook the unpacking and arranging of
their belongings and also the task of preparing lunch, which was to
be a light one. Indeed, all the household arrangements must be of the
simplest, so that the girls might have their strength and enthusiasm to
give to the work of nursing.
But because they had gotten up soon after daylight, Nona and Barbara
found that they had two hours of freedom which might be spent in
investigating the neighborhood. So putting on ordinary clothes instead
of their nursing uniforms, they set out for a walk.
“I suppose,” Barbara suggested, making an odd grimace, “that there is
no special harm in our walking through the estate of the countess and
possibly looking at the chateau if we chance to be in the vicinity.
I don’t believe that we can do much strolling about here without
encroaching on her place. From what François told us yesterday she owns
most of the countryside.”
Nona laughed. “That is possibly an exaggeration. Still, I would like
to see the old chateau immensely. In spite of Eugenia, I agree with
you that we may be permitted to humbly gaze upon it without attempting
to speak to any one. I wonder in which direction we ought to go to
discover it?”
The girls had gone several yards now and Barbara stopped and wheeled
about.
“There is a pine forest over there to the left that is so lovely it
won’t matter if it brings us out at the end of nowhere. Only we ought
to drop bits of paper behind us like Hop o’ My Thumb for fear of
getting lost.”
“I have a fairly good bump of locality,” the other girl answered.
Then in spite of the fact that they were two feminine persons, neither
of the girls spoke again until they had walked at least a mile. Having
come unexpectedly upon a shining pool of water, it was then impossible
not to utter exclamations of delight.
Nona dropped down on her knees and stared into the depth of it. “Have
you read ‘Peleas and Melisande,’ Barbara?” she asked. “It opens in the
most exquisite fashion with Melisande gazing down into the depth of the
pool and crying over something she has lost. One never knows exactly
what it is, but I always thought the entire story meant a reaching
after the light. I suppose that is what war is, though it is a cruel
and horrible way of searching for it.”
Barbara nodded, although she did not know exactly what her friend was
talking about. There was a poetic streak in Nona Davis that no other
one of the four girls possessed. During her lonely childhood she seemed
to have read an odd assortment of books. Of course she had not the real
information that Eugenia had, but what she knew was more fascinating,
at least according to Barbara Meade’s ideas.
“Well, I hope that war may never cross the border line into these
forests,” Nona added thoughtfully, “although I can imagine any one who
knew them could play hide and seek with an enemy for a long time. There
is a little hut over there that seems deserted; let’s go and see it.”
As Barbara had been standing she of course had a better view than her
companion, but Nona obediently followed her.
The little hut was empty. It was merely a tumbledown shack of logs
and stones. However, some one must have inhabited it at one time or
another, because there were signs of a fire and a few old pots and
pans, weather beaten and rusty, that had been left about. Moreover,
there was a moth-eaten fur rug that may have formed a bed.
Yet it was lonely and uncomfortable looking, so the girls did not care
to linger. Besides, if they were to see the old French chateau during
the morning they must find a place where it was more likely to be.
Discovering a path that appeared to have been more used than any other,
they followed it. In ten minutes after they came to the edge of the
clearing and there about a quarter of a mile beyond was the outline of
the chateau.
“I suppose it is intruding to go nearer,” Barbara said plaintively,
“but I can’t get the least satisfaction from this bird’s-eye view.”
“No doubt of it,” Nona answered, “yet I propose that we take the risk.
These are war times and very few servants are left about any of the old
places, so we may escape without being seen. I feel it is our duty, as
long as Eugenia is not along, to see all that we can before our work
begins. Then we’ll have no chance.”
The chateau was in a measure a disappointment, because after all it
looked more like an old-time fortress than a dwelling house, and
besides was dreadfully dilapidated.
“But once one was accustomed to this idea, it really became more
interesting,” Nona finally argued.
A part of the chateau must have been erected in the fourteenth or
fifteenth century when feudal warfare was still carried on in France.
The stone tower had loopholes for windows with iron bars across, so
that the approach of an enemy could be discovered and he might be
attacked with slight danger to the inmates of the castle. This tower
was in a fairly good state of preservation, but the rest of the house,
where the living apartments were situated, was almost a ruin. There
were signs of poverty everywhere. The servants’ quarters were deserted,
there were no stables, nothing to suggest the prosperity that should
accompany so famous a possession as the old chateau represented.
Indeed, the two American girls were so engaged in discussing the
situation that they were not aware of anyone approaching. Unexpectedly
they found a woman past middle age moving slowly toward them. She was
alone save that she was accompanied by an immense silver-gray dog,
which to Nona’s gratification she held by a leash. For in spite of
her bravery in other matters, Nona was ridiculously and unreasonably
fearful of dogs.
“Gracious!” Barbara whispered, half amused and half terror-stricken.
“That must be the mythical countess herself. Shades of Eugenia, what
shall we say or do?”
But the older woman gave them little opportunity for a decision.
She was small and slender, dressed in black, with a lace shawl over her
head coming down into a point upon her forehead. Underneath were masses
of carefully arranged snow-white hair. The Countess’ face was almost as
white as her hair; there was nothing that gave it color save her lips
and a pair of somber dark eyes. Her expression was sad and aloof.
She must have recognized the two girls as Americans and known for what
purpose they had just come to the neighborhood. Nevertheless, she
passed by them without speaking, save for a slight inclination of her
head. In spite of her kindness the evening before, assuredly she had no
desire for further acquaintance.
When she was out of hearing Barbara and Nona gazed at each other like
two forward children.
Then Barbara took off the small silk cap she was so fond of wearing.
“I am taking it off to Eugenia, Nona,” she explained. “Thank fortune, I
did not intrude my western personality upon the great lady. I can just
imagine how she would have treated me if I had undertaken to thank her
for her kindness and what she would have thought about American girls
in general. Eugenia put it mildly. Well, as a greater person than I
am once remarked, ‘it takes all kinds of people to make a world.’ And
methinks before this war nursing experience is over we shall have met
a good many varieties. But let us get back to the little blue and gray
farmhouse as soon as possible. Goodness knows, I would rather live
in it than in a tumble-down chateau! Besides, I wish to apologize to
Eugenia.”
However, the girls had only started on their return journey when some
one came hobbling along behind them.
It was François and he carried a basket on his arm.
Nona inquired a shorter way home and the old man explained that as
he was on the way to their house, he would like to be permitted to
accompany them. There was a road that was only half as long as the
route they had taken.
Naturally the girls were glad enough for the old man’s escort,
especially as he was full of reminiscences of the neighborhood which he
loved dearly to impart.
In his basket was another offering from the countess. Old François
explained that if she had passed them without seeming to notice their
presence, it was not that she intended being unkind. She was lonely and
depressed. All her kinspeople were at the front as well as her only
son, who was the last to bear the family name. Moreover, they had been
poor before, but now that all their farm people had gone off to the war
and there was no one left to work in the fields, where was a single
franc to come from? Besides, were not the Germans so near the line that
if the worst took place they would overrun the countryside and destroy
the little that was left?
Finally the girls discovered that the old man and his mistress were
actually the only two persons remaining in the old chateau. When
François was compelled to be away the countess had only her great dog
for protection.
The picture was a pathetic one and Nona and Barbara felt less aggrieved
by the older woman’s coldness. One could hardly wonder that she did not
care to meet or talk to strangers.
“But aren’t you afraid to be here on this great place alone, François?”
Nona asked, more to persuade the old man to go on talking than because
she was interested in her question.
The old peasant shook his head enigmatically. But he was a garrulous
old fellow and immensely pleased with Nona’s ability to speak French.
“We will be in no danger,” he said, bobbing his head and then shrugging
his old shoulders until all his bent-over body seemed to be moving at
once, “even if the barbarians should devastate our land. If this should
happen the American girls must flee to old François for protection.
They could say what they liked about the Red Cross insuring them from
danger, he knew a better way.” But what the way was François would not
tell, although both girls teased and implored him to confide in them
all the way back to the “House with the Blue Front Door.”