Eugenia stayed later at the hospital than she expected. The patient she
had left a few hours before was not so well and wished her to be with
him. So she sat holding the boy’s hand and talking to him gently until
he had fallen asleep. It was curious that Eugenia, who was always so
stern with well persons, was wonderfully sympathetic with her patients.
She was firm, of course, but only when she felt it necessary for their
good. For Eugenia was not a “butterfly” nurse, the name that has been
applied to the fashionable society women who have been caring for the
wounded as much for their own entertainment as the soldiers’ good.
So somehow, in spite of her American French, the boy she had
been tending preferred her to remain by him rather than his own
countrywoman.
She was very tired when she slipped away. She had come to the field
hospital at eight o’clock in the morning, worked until four, then spent
two hours in the trenches and afterwards another two hours at nursing
again. For it was after eight o’clock when she started for home.
Naturally no one appreciated that Eugenia was returning alone. Of
course, in war times the Red Cross nurses had grown accustomed to
caring for themselves as well as other persons. Nevertheless, this
evening the circumstances were unusual. Eugenia was a stranger in a
strange land. She had only recently come to this portion of France,
was unfamiliar with the country, which was filled with regiments of
soldiers. Moreover, the night was uncomfortably dark. Had the doctors
or attendants at the field hospital known of her departure, one of them
would have insisted upon accompanying her.
However, no one is sensible when tired. So for some reason, although a
little nervous at the prospect ahead of her, Eugenia got away without
being seen. She was determined to give no trouble. Of course, if she
had been Barbara, or Nona, or Mildred she would have considered it
fool-hardy, almost wicked, to have attempted walking a mile in the
darkness alone. But with Eugenia Peabody the case was different. No one
had ever thought of looking after her in her life, and surely no one
would begin now.
The first part of her trip home was along a path through the open
fields. As Eugenia hurried on toward their little adopted home she
began wondering if the girls had missed her at supper time. This was
the pleasantest hour in all their day. Then possibly because she was
weary she decided that they had probably been glad to be relieved of
her presence. For no one of the American Red Cross girls really cared
much for her. Of this Eugenia was convinced. Nona and Mildred both
tried to be kind and Barbara behaved as well as she could, except on
occasions when she felt especially antagonistic.
Once or twice Eugenia stumbled, not because there were difficulties
in her way but because she was thinking so deeply. What could be the
trouble with her nature? As she was in a mood of severe truthfulness
with herself she realized that no one had ever loved her a great deal
in her entire life.
Left an orphan when she was a few years old, she could not recall her
mother or father. Of course, her Aunt Rebecca, who had brought her up,
had been reasonably fond of her. But Eugenia was convinced that she had
never been an attractive child.
Yet why, tonight of all nights, should she fall to thinking of herself?
And why in this darkness and in a foreign land should she have such a
clear vision of the little girl in the old New England town?
One thing she recalled most distinctly: she must have always looked
old. Strangers used to discuss her and people used always to expect
more from her than from the other children of the same age. Moreover,
she had always been painfully shy and this shyness had colored her
whole life.
As a child she simply had to pretend to feel superior and to be
serious-minded, because she did not know how to play and laugh like
the others did. Since she had been grown up, and for the same reason,
she had gone on behaving in the same way.
Often here in Europe with the other Red Cross girls she had wished to
be as gay and nonsensical as they were. Yet she never knew how to relax
into a frivolous mood.
Once the tears actually started into Eugenia’s dark eyes. She realized
that now and then she had even been jealous of her three companions.
Nona and Barbara were so pretty and charming and Mildred had qualities
finer than these two possessions. Besides, the three girls made her
feel so dreadfully old. This is never an agreeable sensation after
twenty, however much the teens may aspire to appear elderly. Then
Eugenia managed to smile at herself, although it was a kind of twisted
smile. It occurred to her to wonder if she had failed to like Barbara
Meade because it was Barbara who had first suggested that she must be a
great deal older than the rest of them.
Deliberately Eugenia now began to walk slowly. She did not wish to
arrive at home in her present mood. Having passed through the fields,
she was now on her way through the lane that led through an open woods
directly to the “House with the Blue Front Door.” Dozens of times
Eugenia had made this trip in the daytime, but a country road has a
very different appearance at night. Moreover, the trees made the lane
seem far darker than the path through the open fields.
It was stupid not to have brought her electric flashlight! However,
nothing had so far disturbed Eugenia’s progress. Not one wayfarer or
soldier out upon leave had she encountered, although the neighborhood
was thickly populated with men and women living on the outskirts of the
entrenchments.
Eugenia hoped that if she should meet a passerby he might be a soldier.
There were but few of them who would not respect her uniform. However,
she was beginning to forget her previous nervousness, for this lane was
not a frequently traveled one. It merely led past their little house
into the heavier woods beyond, where Barbara and Nona had told of their
discovery of the deserted hut and the pool of Melisande.
There was no moon and Eugenia was making little noise. She had a
fashion of being able to get about almost soundlessly, a characteristic
she had cultivated in the sick room until she could move almost as
quietly as an Indian.
Then suddenly she began to feel more sensible and cheerful. Home was no
longer far away and even if no one loved her very devotedly, at least
the girls would have saved supper for her. Food would go a long way
toward dispelling her blues.
Unconsciously Eugenia was moving more rapidly. She had almost broken
into a run before she became aware of footsteps behind her. Then,
although pausing for about half a second to find out, she could not
decide whether one or half a dozen persons were following her.
It was most unreasonable of Eugenia. She had no cause for thinking
that the presence of other persons traveling the same lane meant
they were in pursuit of her. But have you ever given way to an attack
of melancholy? Then you know that invariably it leaves your nerves
unstrung and ready for a collapse.
Certainly Eugenia did not consider herself beautiful or attractive,
yet even in the midst of her self-depreciation she had not thought to
bewail her own lack of judgment. Nevertheless, almost at once after
hearing the steps she started to run. This was, of course, the most
ridiculous thing she could have done. A moment’s thought and she must
have appreciated the fact. These were war times and the suggestion that
one wished to escape a pursuer was in itself a sign of guilt.
Immediately Eugenia increased her speed, at the same instant the
persons or things behind her gave chase. The next moment a voice rang
out. Something it said in French which held a tone of authority.
However, Eugenia paid it not the slightest attention. Only a quarter of
a mile beyond lay “The House with the Blue Front Door,” so her one idea
now was to reach it.
“Barbara! Barbara!” Eugenia called faintly, though just why she should
have endeavored to summon the smallest and apparently the most timid of
the Red Cross girls, far be it from Eugenia to understand either then
or afterwards. Fright sometimes makes one do extraordinary things.
But imagine the stately Eugenia running through the night with her
nurse’s coat forming a kind of sail behind her, her bonnet in her hand
and her heavy hair unbound and falling down her neck, crying out to
Barbara for protection.
But Barbara herself could not have run faster, for now Eugenia had real
cause for fear. A great something was pounding nearer and nearer her.
The sound it made was scarcely human. Then again a voice shouted a few
words sharply in French. In her terror Eugenia could not comprehend
their meaning. Nevertheless, she must have hesitated for an instant,
for immediately after something struck her on either shoulder. Falling,
she was thus unable to see what had happened, but remained mute with
the horror. The tremendous thing still hovered over her so that she
dared not speak or move.
Naturally an eternity seemed to have passed over Eugenia. However, it
was only another moment before a light flashed in her face.
“Sacre cœur!” she heard a voice exclaim. “Une femme!”
Then the great creature that had pinned her down moved away and Eugenia
felt a hand upon her arm.
“I beg a thousand pardons,” a voice said in English. “You will never be
able to forgive me. But why did you not halt when I called out to you?
I am a French officer and feared you were a runaway soldier or a thief.
They come now and then to our camp. But that I should allow you to be
struck down by my dog! Monsieur le Duc, I am most bitterly ashamed of
you. You at least should have known better.”
This last remark was addressed to the dog, in order to gain time and to
help cover the young French officer’s chagrin and confusion. With his
light he had of course discovered that Eugenia was wearing a nurse’s
uniform, which made his act the more unpardonable. Nevertheless, as he
apologized he was struggling to help her to arise.
By this time Eugenia was more or less herself again and moreover was
exceedingly angry. She was frightened and hurt by her experience, but
more, her dignity was upset as it had never been before.
Eugenia disdained the French officer’s assistance. Quickly as possible
she got up on her feet, though still unable to speak because of a queer
contraction in her throat and odd shaking of her knees. One glance
she deigned to give at the great beast that had so frightened her.
She could only see the outline of an immense dog, that appeared as
apologetic as the man since his master’s rebuke. But Eugenia would not
look at the young officer. However, it would have done little good, for
she could not have seen him with any distinctness in the darkness.
Yet Eugenia would have been both amazed and annoyed if she had dreamed
of how clearly the offender could see her. He had managed to turn his
flashlight upon her in such a way that he had a perfect vision of her
without being seen.
Curiously Eugenia was looking unusually handsome. Her cheeks were
brilliantly flushed and her dark eyes glowing with a mixture of
emotions. Moreover, she had beautiful hair when it was unbound,
although few people realized it after she had twisted it into a tight
rope to adorn her head.
“I presume your mistake was unintentional,” she remarked in an icy
voice, “but please in future be more careful of the victims of your
mistakes.”
Surely Eugenia had forgotten that she was speaking to an officer in
the French army, for her tone was that of a severe elder addressing
an erring child. She did not at present know the officer’s rank, age
nor condition of life. But one is by no means sure that any possible
consideration would have influenced Eugenia in her present mood.
“No, I prefer to find my way home alone,” she continued in answer to
her companion’s humble request to accompany her.
So Eugenia walked on with her head very high for the rest of the
journey, pretending not to know that the officer and his dog were
keeping at a respectful distance in order to afford her a safe escort.
This was scarcely necessary “after the pot was in the fire,” Eugenia
thought, recalling an old New England expression. She was no longer
frightened now that she could see the light in their own little French
farmhouse.
Yet to the surprise and consternation of the three American Red Cross
girls, Eugenia burst into tears the moment Barbara had opened the blue
front door.