WELL MET
It was with many misgivings that Lucie started out upon her walk to
the village. Pom Pom, however, had nothing upon his mind after having
settled the food question for the moment. All that was required of
him was to keep his mistress in sight, but Lucie had far more anxious
thoughts as she went on. She was now sure that something had happened
to Paulette whose devotion to the family would permit nothing short of
utter disability from keeping her overnight. As for her grandfather,
Lucie felt that here too was another cause for worry. What had become
of him? Was she to be left utterly alone? she who had always lived such
a peaceful, protected life? With Paulette and her grandfather vanished
mysteriously, how could she reach Paris? and even supposing she were
able to do this, what would she do when she got there? She must make
every effort to find her mother and father. How would she best set
about doing this? She felt herself such a tiny speck in such a big
world. Finally her lips took to forming only the words: “Brave, I must
be brave,” as she trudged on. The distance was greater than she had
believed, and with no more nourishment than part of a loaf of bread she
did not feel herself any too well fortified for so long a walk.
She had reached the outskirts of the town without seeing any one.
Except for the distant roar of guns, the occasional crash of a
collapsing wall, the far-off whir of an airplane, there were no
disturbing sounds.
Presently a figure at last appeared coming toward her, a man in the
red and blue uniform of a _poilu_. Pom Pom, who had been following
laggingly with lolling tongue, suddenly pricked up his ears and dashed
forward barking joyously.
The soldier stopped to pat the little dog who frantically jumped upon
him, licking his hands and whimpering with delight. “But where did you
come from, my Pom Pom? Are you then lost?” Lucie heard the man say as
she came nearer.
She stood still, not recognizing the figure in military dress, then she
herself ran forward almost as joyously as Pom Pom had done. “Victor!
Victor!” she cried. “What good fortune is this. What a happiness to
meet you!”
“A happiness, is it?” He laughed and showed his strong white teeth.
“And what are you doing here, you and Pom Pom, so far from home?
This is a strange meeting indeed. Where are the rest, your mother,
grandfather and all?”
“Ah, that is what I do not know. I am in great distress, Victor.”
“Is it so? Then tell me what is wrong.” His face went grave as he took
her bundle from her and looked into the weary little face whose eyes
were so mournful with dark shadows under them. “Poor little one, you do
look as if you had traveled far,” he said pityingly. “Come, sit down
here by the roadside and tell me all about it.”
So Lucie poured forth her sad little tale, concluding with: “And but
for Pom Pom I might have starved.”
Victor’s hand fondled the little dog who lay contentedly at his feet.
“But my aunt and uncle, my cousin Annette, where are they?” he asked.
“They turned aside and I hope are quite safe with your own grandparents
in your town, Victor.”
“Good! That is very good. I am glad to know this, so then, if we do not
discover this Paulette nor your grandfather, I can take you there where
you will be not only safe but will be very welcome.”
“That is a great relief, Victor,” Lucie gave a sigh. “But first this
Paulette must be found. What do you think could have happened to her,
and to my grandfather?”
“One cannot tell. I hope nothing very serious. There were explosions,
you know, after the station was bombed. There are still walls falling
in the town.”
“And they were there? Oh, Victor, do you think it possible that they
are killed?”
“Let us hope not.”
“But something very serious must have happened or they would not have
left me all night alone. Oh, what sorrows, what sorrows! My father
wounded, my grandfather and dear old Paulette perhaps no more.”
Victor patted her hand. “Do not cross that bridge yet, little one.
I shall not leave you till I see you are perfectly safe. I have
thirty-six hours’ leave before reporting to my captain. It is to-day
that I wear my uniform for the first time,” he added proudly.
“And very becoming it is,” said Lucie trying to smile in spite of her
fears. “Such a great fortune it is, Victor, to meet some one I know.”
“Of course. That goes without the saying. _Allons_, then, Forward!
March!” He did not say that his leave was to have been spent with
his family, and that in returning to the village he had just left he
probably would have to give up his trip to the earlier destination,
because of lack of time.
As they neared the little town Lucie saw wisps of smoke rising from
heaps of ruins. Such walls as were standing showed gaping holes where
windows had been. Scarce a house stood intact. The little church
was riddled, only from a niche a sorrowful Madonna looked down upon
the piles of shattered stones which lay upon the pavement where her
worshipers had knelt.
Lucie clutched Victor’s arm. “Do you suppose they have done the same to
our village, to our house?” she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders, unable to reassure her. As they entered the
forsaken streets they came upon a few stragglers poking among the ruins
with the hope of discovering some of their lost treasures. In what
remained of the church, cots had been set up for the wounded, and here
doctors and Red Cross nurses were busy.
As they stopped in front of this place a voice shrilled out: “But I
tell you, monsieur, I am neither ill nor insane. It is as I say and I
must be gone at once. You must not detain me.”
Lucie gave a start. “Listen!” she cried.
“I appeal to you, madame,” the voice went on. “Figure to yourself a
daughter of yours, alone, stricken with terror, not knowing where to
go, feeling herself utterly deserted. It is of all things impossible
that I should be detained. Bah, what is a cut on the head? A nothing.
Yes, to be sure I was insensible, but at this moment I have my
faculties, and I am so weak that I cannot make that little journey.
You will send? But the child in that foul cow shed all night! Who knows
if she be not ill or has left the place and is wandering about lost and
forsaken?”
“Paulette!” cried Lucie darting up the steps of the battered church,
from which came the voice. “Paulette, are you then here? It is I,
Lucie.”
From the doorway, which was scarce more than a gaping hole rushed forth
a stout figure with bandaged head and torn clothing. “My little one!
The blessed child! It is she herself,” cried Paulette grasping Lucie
by the hands and drawing her inside. “Monsieur the doctor, Madame the
nurse, behold the child. She is here. Is it not a miracle of _le bon
Dieu_?” Paulette, excited, half laughing, half crying, held tightly to
Lucie.
The doctor and nurse stood by smiling appreciatively. “Tell us how you
managed to get here safely, mademoiselle,” said the doctor.
So Lucie told her tale which was interrupted by many exclamations from
Paulette, but was listened to with interest by all who heard.
“Surely the saints had you in keeping,” said Paulette, when the story
was ended. “For there is danger everywhere and in coming here you might
have been killed as I nearly was.”
“Tell me of that,” urged Lucie. “Were you badly hurt, Paulette? Are you
suffering, my poor one?”
“Not now so much. It was this way that it happened, _ma petite_: I was
coming into the town. I had arrived as you may say. Suddenly a great
noise, a crash. I knew no more till I find myself within these walls,
if walls one can still call them. I am at first unable to collect my
thoughts. At last I realize that here am I with a hole in the head and
so weak that when I stand I am afflicted with a dizziness. I wish to
go to you, but no, this is impossible. I try to explain. This, too, is
difficult. It is then the middle of the night, I know not what hour. I
lie down again and sleep, perhaps. When I awake I am given food. I am
better, and then I begin to implore that I be allowed to return to you.
These, though good and kind, refuse to permit me to go. Tell me, little
one, how did you fare in that so unclean place? You, of course had food
from the basket.”
“But no, Paulette, for alas, it was the wrong basket. The one in which
was the food, that went with grandfather.”
“_Mon Dieu!_” exclaimed Paulette. “How I am a stupid? What a _sot
animal_, a _dindon_ I am not to have perceived that, and then I had
not this wound upon the head which would have given me some excuse for
stupidity.”
“But you realize, Paulette, that those two baskets were exactly alike.”
“That matters nothing, for the fact remains that you were without food.
Monsieur, Madame, she starves, this child. She has eaten nothing since
noon yesterday.”
“Oh yes, but I have,” Lucie hastened to assure her. “You will scarce
believe what I have to tell you, and will say it is nothing short of a
miracle indeed.” And she proceeded to tell of Pom Pom’s achievement to
a still more interested audience.
“This dog, this very clever creature, where is he?” asked the doctor
when she had ended her recital.
“He is here,” Lucie told him waving her hand to where, on outside, Pom
Pom was quite content to wait with Victor.
“We must see this so clever animal,” declared the doctor, going to the
foot of the steps where Victor was sitting.
“And my grandfather?” said Lucie turning again to Paulette. “He is
safe? He is here?”
“He is safe, let us hope. None were allowed to remain when the
authorities evacuated the town. All were forced to leave. To be sure,
I hear there were some who hid themselves and would not go. This
Paulette, that you see, she stayed because perforce she must. It is
perhaps a Providence which sent that blow upon the head or out I must
have gone whether I would or not, and then what would have become of
you?”
“There was Victor,” said Lucie thoughtfully.
“Oh, yes, Victor. La la, there was Victor,” exclaimed Paulette marching
off. Lucie could not tell whether offended or not.
But presently she returned with the nurse whom Lucie had first seen
and who brought a bowl of soup which Lucie received gratefully, and
which she felt inclined to eat to the very last drop for it was hot and
comforting. But she left a few spoonfuls saying to the nurse, “I may
give this to Pom Pom?”
“Eat it all, my dear,” replied the nurse smiling. “We can find
something else for a little dog who is so faithful.”
Pom Pom provided for, the next thing was to consult Victor about
various matters. There were the things left in the cow shed which
Paulette declared she could not live without. How were they to recover
these? and where would they be liable to find Mons. Du Bois? Lucie put
these questions anxiously.
Victor thus appealed to felt himself more than ever thrust into the
rôle of protector and gave up then and there his last hope of getting
home on this furlough. He could not desert Lucie. It would never do
to start her out upon a journey with Paulette who was in no condition
to travel on foot, and there did not appear any one to whose care he
might intrust a young girl and a wounded woman. He pondered over the
situation, Lucie watching him anxiously.
“Listen,” he said at last, smiling down at the troubled girl, his kind
brown eyes alight with sympathy, “I think we can work our way out of
this difficulty. Trust it all to me. At present you are quite safe
here. I will go back for those things, if needs be, but first I will
inquire about this lost grandfather who, no doubt, is as concerned
about you as you about him. I will see if I can discover something of
him. Let us see, he was traveling in a wagon with one you know. Is this
right?”
“Yes, he was with Gustave Foucher, a tradesman in our town and whom we
all know well as a kind, good man. Gustave has his family with him, and
some household goods, yet he was willing to take grandfather, too. The
wagon is drawn by two stout black horses.”
“Good, we will then see what we can learn of this Gustave Foucher, and
then I will report to you, then it will be time enough to attend to
those baskets in the cow shed.”
“Oh, Victor, how good you are,” cried Lucie, gratefully.
“La la, who is good? Not any one really. I do this because it amuses,
it entertains; it is out of the day’s routine, an adventure, as
one might say. Pom Pom had better stay with you while I pursue my
investigations.”
He went off to follow up his course of action, leaving Lucie to reënter
the church where Paulette was busying herself in waiting on those more
helpless than herself. It was a gruesome place, Lucie thought, with its
row of cots in which lay groaning sufferers, some too severely hurt to
hope for recovery, and some who would never again be whole. This was
war, her first intimate acquaintance with its horrors. In such a place
perhaps her father lay at this moment. She prayed that he might be
spared and that her mother was at his side, as she knelt for a moment
before an untouched altar. When she arose to her feet she saw Paulette
trying to make more comfortable a patient close by.
“Can’t I help, too?” whispered Lucie.
Paulette shook her head, but one of the nurses beckoned to her and she
followed her to the sacristy where a sort of kitchen was established.
“I wouldn’t stay in there,” said the nurse. “Perhaps you can help here.
You can, maybe, wash dishes.”
“Oh, I can do that,” Lucie assured her and diligently set to work,
feeling thankful that something useful was her part to perform.
She was not long at her occupation, however, for before she had quite
finished the pile before her, Victor came back.
“Your friend, the young man, has returned,” some one came to tell her.
Lucie looked inquiringly at the young woman who was in charge. She
nodded encouragingly. “Go, my dear. You have been very helpful,” said
the woman.
She gave up the towel she had been using and went softly out, tiptoeing
past the row of cots. Victor was waiting on the steps. “What news?”
inquired Lucie.
“All’s well,” he answered. “That grandfather has been through here.
He left word with the man who has been station master but who no more
is so because there is no station. With this person he has left word
that he is not allowed to stop and is going on to the next point where
one can get a train, and there you are to meet him. If by any chance
you miss him, you and Paulette are to proceed direct to Paris and
communicate with him at the house of one Jacques Moulin.”
“Oh yes, I know this Jacques person. He came often to buy goods at the
factory and would sometimes come to dine with us.”
“He is a young man?” asked Victor.
“No, quite an old one, not so old perhaps as grandfather but enough
old, for he has grown-up children.”
“That is well,” said Victor with satisfaction. “So then we consider the
next thing.”
“I suppose that is _Marchons_ again.”
“Yes, but not on foot. _That_ will not do. I shall have the honor of
being your coachman.”
“What do you mean? There can be no coaches left here.”
“You may not be overweeningly proud of your equipage, but it is better
than none. At the present moment it lacks a wheel, but that is a simple
matter to adjust, and good fortune for us, for because of this mishap
to the ancient vehicle, it has been discarded, left behind, so to
speak.”
“But how can one travel with but three wheels, or is it one?”
“There are still three, two quite good. From the third, one or two
spokes are missing, but that is a small loss. There must be other
wheels belonging to other carts which are no longer in existence.
I purpose to find one. If it does not match exactly, that makes no
difference.”
“But do you purpose to be steed as well as coachman?”
“Not at all. Behind a dilapidated house in a more dilapidated stable
resides at the moment a small donkey who in some manner has been
forgotten, or rather he was left behind because of the débris piled
around him. No doubt his owner fled in haste and could not dig him
out. I passed by the spot and examined it, discovering that it will not
be so difficult as appears to extricate the beast, so I shall dig him
out and there we have an equipage not to be despised, and much better
than a wheelbarrow in which I might have had to bundle you and that
poor Paulette.”
“Not me, for I could walk.”
“Part way, maybe, but there is no question of that as I see it.”
“What ingenuity, Victor. Who would have thought this out but you?”
“It has been great amusement, I assure you. Bravo! How I shall enjoy
driving Master Donkey. He seems a strong little beast, and was glad to
see me, the _coquin_. You should have heard his hee haw when I spoke to
him. Now about Paulette, is she able to travel?”
“She is fast recovering. She was stunned by the blow she received from
a falling stone and was weak from loss of blood. It was wonderful that
she escaped being killed outright. I am sure she will recover even more
rapidly when she hears of our good fortune in having such a courier
as Mons. Victor Guerin. It is all very dreadful, of course, Victor,
and last night I felt as if I could never smile again, but now that my
grandfather is safe, Paulette is better, and I have had some food my
spirits have risen.”
“Good! then perhaps you will be willing to go with me to recover that
donkey. Two are better than one at a task like that. Once the animal
is extricated we will feed him, then we will find a wheel for the cart
and can be off for a visit to that cow shed that you were so loath to
leave.”
“Detestable spot, how can you say I was loath to leave it?”
“When one spends an entire night in a place it is a sign that it has
its attractions.”
“Stop teasing. I stayed because there was nothing else to do, as you
well know. I never wish to see the place again.”
“Ah, but you will have to go with me to show me where it is.” Victor
gave her a merry glance.
Lucie shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it may be that so much is
necessary, and perhaps you can discover if there are really any eggs in
that nest. That is something I should like very much to know.”
It required some argument to convince Paulette that Lucie was necessary
to the expedition, but at last she was made to realize that this was
not a time for conventionalities and so the two young people started
off together, first to get out the donkey.