However, it was nearly noon before Eugenia made the discovery that
the entire French army in the vicinity had retreated, leaving all
the country nearby in the hands of the Germans. Only then did she
appreciate the difficulty of concealing a young French officer in her
home, who would doubtless be taken prisoner if his presence and his
identity were discovered.
Her information came about in this fashion. For two hours Eugenia
worked with her patient, washing his wounds and even managing to
extract a bullet which had lodged near the surface. Also she bathed his
face and poured brandy between his haggard lips until he opened his
eyes, only to close them again in utter exhaustion. Finally, when she
could do nothing more, Eugenia walked to her front door to get some
fresh air. She meant in a few moments to go to the Chateau d’Amélie and
send old François to the nearest village for a doctor. So far it simply
had not occurred to her that François and his mistress might have
deserted the chateau for the same reason that had compelled the removal
of the field hospital.
Outside, like a tired sentinel, Eugenia found Duke asleep in the front
yard. Then while hesitating to wake him, even to keep guard over his
master, she became vaguely conscious that soldiers were marching past.
The next instant she realized that their uniforms were German and not
French and that they wore the eagle triumphant on their shining helmets.
They were passing close to the little “House with the Blue Front Door,”
so that Eugenia wondered why no one stopped to investigate it. Then she
remembered that Barbara had hung the Red Cross emblem outside and that
the soldiers were treating it with extraordinary respect.
Would they continue to do this after discovering that the only person
beside herself under the protection of the Red Cross flag was an
enemy’s officer?
Eugenia was convinced otherwise. Captain Castaigne would be promptly
taken prisoner so soon as she told of his whereabouts and sent to a
hospital within the German lines. And to be moved at the present time
would probably mean the young officer’s death.
Calling Duke inside, Eugenia closed and bolted the blue front door.
Then she considered whether she could manage to keep the young
Frenchman concealed and yet take the proper care of him. It would be
impossible to expect the assistance of a physician, for the nearest
village would assuredly be occupied by the Germans and to demand a
doctor must mean the betrayal of her patient.
It was possible, however, that she could hide Captain Castaigne away
for a time at least, while she remained unmolested in the little
farmhouse, with Duke as her protector. She would explain to the German
officer in command just what had taken place that caused her to be left
behind by the hospital staff. Then there would be little reason for
interfering with her, unless the farmhouse should be required for the
shelter of the soldiers. But as it was small and somewhat out of the
way she hoped it might be ignored.
The chiefly important thing was to wait quietly until the next morning
and then find out Captain Castaigne’s condition. Eugenia meant to make
as brave a fight for his life as possible. If he recovered there would
be time enough to determine whether he should surrender or make an
effort to escape and rejoin his command. Fortunately there were both
provisions and medical supplies stored in the farmhouse. Judge Thornton
had sent fresh orders of both from Paris quite recently.
So for the rest of the afternoon and evening Eugenia sat by her patient
while Duke crouched on the floor near them both. No one disturbed them;
the little house might have been in the center of a vast desert for
any human interest it created. The day before Eugenia had closed its
outside windows and doors, and since had opened only the one window
necessary for light and air.
For the greater part of the night Captain Castaigne was delirious from
a high fever. Eugenia knew that it would be almost impossible for him
to escape blood poison, after the dirt had been ground into his wounds
from the long dragging of his body on the earth.
Nevertheless, now and then the young officer slept the sleep of utter
exhaustion, with Duke and Eugenia both slumbering beside him whenever
this opportunity came.
Eugenia did not question the reason for her care. She had not liked the
young Frenchman at their first meeting in Paris. Certainly their second
accidental meeting in the woods had not increased her liking. Moreover,
she had been entirely out of sympathy with him, with his mother and
with their French ideas and environment on the afternoon of her one
call.
Yet none of these things counted in the least with Eugenia. Captain
Castaigne was a French soldier, one of the men whom she had come to
Europe to nurse in case he needed her care. Therefore he should have
the best it was in her power to offer.
Once, while in the act of giving him medicine to relieve his fever, the
young man murmured his mother’s name and for the instant Eugenia was
moved to sympathy. All the rest of the time her feeling was entirely
impersonal. Captain Castaigne was merely a patient who must if possible
be kept alive and later restored to health. If she had any feeling in
the matter Eugenia was sorry that she had ever made the young man’s
acquaintance before this night.
Nevertheless, at about six o’clock the following morning, after an
entire hour of refreshing sleep, Eugenia opened her eyes to find her
patient gazing steadfastly at her. For the time being his delirium
had passed and she realized that he recognized her and longed to ask
questions but was still too weak and ill to speak.
A half an hour afterwards, after a few sips of clam bouillon which
chanced to be among the household stores, Captain Castaigne said a few
words.
“_What does this mean?_” he asked in painstaking English, appreciating
even in his present condition that Miss Peabody preferred the
conversation to take place in her native tongue.
Eugenia thought quickly. The young officer could not entirely grasp the
situation even if she were able to tell him the entire story. Moreover,
at present the story was too long and too exciting for him to hear.
Also, he might feel burdened by his obligation to her and unwilling for
her to make the sacrifices necessary for his safety if he learned the
truth now.
So she gazed back at him with the quiet serenity that made her so
valuable a nurse.
“You understand you have been hurt? Well, I have been appointed to take
charge of you. You are to see no one else for a time, not even your
mother. Try to sleep now, for you must be as quiet as possible.”
When Captain Castaigne immediately closed his eyes, Eugenia choked back
a sigh of relief. Evidently so far he had paid no attention to his
strange surroundings. It was her presence alone that had surprised him,
and he would probably be unable to make further inquiries for some time
to come. Possibly he would not even recognize her again. For Eugenia
understood the nature of the disease with which she was to do battle
and realized that there might be weeks of continued delirium.
For the next fourteen days Eugenia was correct in her prognostication.
But as they were a rather dreadful two weeks for her she would never
talk of them freely afterwards. All that time she had but faint hope
that the young soldier would live, and except for her patient and Duke
she was completely alone.
However, Eugenia managed to get the young fellow upstairs and into
Barbara’s former blue bedroom, although he was never conscious of the
change.
She was compelled to do this, or else have her patient discovered. For
she was not to remain entirely undisturbed while the victorious German
soldiers overran the entire neighborhood.
One afternoon, three days after their installation, when fortunately
she chanced to be working in her kitchen, a tremendous knocking
sounded upon the blue front door. Immediately Eugenia conceived that
it was some one sent to inquire why a solitary female should remain
sequestered in a house, when supplies and houses were so much needed
for the German soldiers.
A satisfactory explanation would doubtless be difficult; nevertheless
Eugenia, with a blue check gingham apron over her nursing one and a cup
and saucer and dish towel in her hands, opened the front door.
There was something which she hoped looked “old maidy” in this
suggestion of dishes and tea. Nothing to suggest the concealment of a
young French officer!
Outside her door Eugenia encountered a stiff German youth in an
immaculate uniform, bearing an official letter. The letter commanded
Eugenia to report to the officer in authority in the nearest village.
She was to explain her presence in the neighborhood, her occupation,
and above all offer proof of her nationality.
Therefore, before setting out the next morning Eugenia changed the
quarters of her patient. There could be little doubt that some one
would be sent to investigate the interior of the little “Farmhouse
with the Blue Front Door.” One could scarcely expect to keep a soldier
hidden in the only room of any size in the house.
Fortunately Barbara’s room was the most inconspicuous of the four
bedrooms. Besides, Eugenia had a certain scheme in mind which she hoped
might help when the critical moment arrived.
Naturally Eugenia had passports and certificates to identify herself as
an American Red Cross nurse. But she also took with her to the colonel
of the German regiment another paper of a different character. However,
she did not mean to show this before feeling her way very carefully.
The paper was a check for a large sum of money on an American bank in
Boston and signed with her own name.
At the improvised office of the German colonel, Eugenia told her story
as briefly as possible. Moreover, she told the exact truth in regard
to herself in every detail up to a certain moment. This was the moment
when she awakened to consciousness after being struck by a German shell.
There was nothing antagonistic in Eugenia’s manner with the officer.
She explained to him that the little French farmhouse had been allotted
to the use of the four American Red Cross nurses and that the other
three girls had retreated with the French field hospital staff. Then
she asked that she be allowed to remain in their house until such time
as she could communicate with her friends in America. As she was alone
it would be impossible to have German soldiers quartered upon her.
At this moment Eugenia put her hand upon the check in her pocket.
Very frankly she then declared that she realized it to be each person’s
duty to assist with the shelter and feeding of a victorious army. But
as she was unable to do either of these things, would not the colonel
accept money instead? She trusted that he would not be offended by
her unusual suggestion, for it appeared to her the only just and fair
thing to do under the circumstances. Finally after further discussion
and hesitation and another careful study of her passports, the German
officer agreed to do what Eugenia had suggested. However, he insisted,
as a matter of necessary formality, that two German soldiers be sent
to her house next day on a tour of inspection. When they came Eugenia
had the courage to show them into the very blue bedroom where the young
French officer lay concealed. But beforehand, and in spite of her
Puritan ancestry, she explained that this room was her own bedchamber.
Moreover, to prove that she had nothing to keep secret she had entirely
emptied her closet. Her own clothes, beside all those that the other
three girls had left behind, were thrown with pretended carelessness
on top the very bed where Captain Castaigne lay hidden under a pile of
bedclothes.
The young Frenchman was in a stupor from fever at the time, so Eugenia
considered that there could be little risk of his either moving or
speaking. However, if risk there was, she felt compelled to take it.
The German soldiers made no effort to give this special room a thorough
investigation. They merely glanced in, and then, like the proverbial
ten thousand men of King George’s army, marched out again.
After this Eugenia was troubled no further by intruders from the ranks
of the Allies’ enemy. Her next visitor was of a much more unexpected
character.