_A Second Acquaintance_
Barbara did not enjoy the thought of being shown over the prison. For
one thing, she was tired; another, she feared she would find the
imprisoned soldiers terribly downcast. She had nursed among them so long
she felt a deep sympathy for their misfortunes.
Yet she discovered that the imprisoned soldiers go through about the
same variety of moods as men and women engaged in ordinary occupations.
They have their sad days and their cheerful days. There are times when
the confinement and depression seem unendurable, and others when a
letter comes from home with good news. Then one is immediately buoyed
up.
It was now between four and five o'clock on a summer's afternoon.
Barbara and Dr. Mason went through the prison hastily. There was
nothing interesting in the sight of the ugly, over-crowded rooms; but
fortunately at this hour most of the men were out of doors.
So, as soon as they were allowed, the two Americans gladly followed the
German commandant out into the fresh air. They had not been permitted to
talk to the prisoners and Dr. Mason had made no such effort. It was
merely through the courtesy of the German commandant that the American
physician and nurse were given the privilege of visiting the ill
prisoners. Therefore, Dr. Mason considered it a part of his duty not to
break any of the prison rules.
But Barbara, being a woman, had no such proper respect for authority.
Whenever the others were not looking she had frequently managed to speak
a few words.
But she breathed better when they were again outdoors. It had been hot
and sultry inside the prison, but now a breeze was blowing, stirring the
leaves of the solitary tree in the prison yard to a gentle murmuring.
Underneath this tree was a group of a dozen or more soldiers. Some of
them were smoking cherished pipes, while others were reading letters,
yellow and dirty from frequent handling.
The International Red Cross had done its best to secure humane treatment
for all the war prisoners in Europe. For this purpose there is a Bureau
of Prisoners, having its headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. They have
sent forth a petition to the various governments at war, asking among
other things that prisoners be allowed to receive money, letters and
packages from their friends. These last must of course be carefully
censored, and yet they keep life from growing unendurably dull. Think of
long weeks and months going past with never a line from the outside
world!
Barbara studied the faces of the imprisoned men closely. With all her
experiences as a war nurse it chanced she had never before seen any
number of prisoners. Now and then a few of them had passed her, being
marched along the Belgian roads to the measure of the German goose step.
Now she managed to bow to the men resting under the tree and they
returned her greeting in the friendliest fashion. Every Red Cross nurse
is a soldier's friend. Yet in the character of an ordinary girl Barbara
would have been almost as cordially received. She looked so natural and
so human. Somehow one recalled once again the vision of "the girl one
had left behind."
But Barbara was not to linger inside the prison yard. As the day was
nearing its close the men who had been working in the fields were to
return. The German commandant wished Dr. Mason to see how well his
prisoners looked.
Surrounding the prison was a high stone wall. In the rear of this yard
was a wide gate which could be swung back on hinges, allowing a half
dozen men to be herded through at the same time.
So Dr. Mason and Barbara were escorted outside the prison wall and given
chairs to await the marching past of the soldiers.
Barbara sat down gratefully enough. But when five or ten minutes passed
and nothing happened she found herself growing bored. Dr. Mason could
not talk to her. The German officer was discoursing so earnestly in his
own language that it was plain the American physician had to devote all
his energies to the effort to understand him.
So by and by, when neither of the men was observing her, Barbara got up
and strolled a few paces away. There was little to see except the
stretch of much-traveled road. The fields where the prisoners were at
work were more than a mile away.
But the girl's attention was arrested by an unmistakable sound. It was
the noise of the imprisoned soldiers being marched back to their jail.
The tread was slow and dead, without animation or life. It was as if the
men had been engaged in tasks in which they had little concern and were
being returned to a place they hated.
Barbara stood close to the edge of the road along which the men must
pass. She was naturally not thinking of herself. So it had not occurred
to her that the soldiers might be surprised by her unexpected
appearance.
She was frowning and her blue eyes were wide open with excitement. She
had left her nurse's coat thrown over the back of her chair. So she wore
her American Red Cross uniform, whose white and crimson made a spot of
bright color in the late afternoon's light.
A young French soldier in the first line of prisoners chanced to catch
Barbara's eye. She smiled at him, half wistful and half friendly.
Instantly the young fellow's hand went up to his cap, as he offered her
the salute a soldier pays his superior officer.
Then the prisoners were all seized with the same idea at the same time.
For as each line of soldiers, with their guards on either side, passed
the spot where Barbara was standing, every hand rose in salute.
The girl was deeply touched. But she was not alone in this feeling. The
American physician had a husky sensation in his throat and his glasses
became suddenly blurred. The German commandant of the prison said
"A-hum, a-hum," in an unnecessarily loud tone.
There was nothing in the spectacle of the girl herself being thus
honored by the imprisoned men that was particularly affecting. The truth
was it was not Barbara who was being saluted, but the uniform she wore,
the white ground with its cross of crimson. In a world of hate and
confusion and sometimes of despair the Red Cross still commands
universal respect.
Barbara could not see distinctly the faces of the soldiers. She
recognized them to be both French and English and of various ages and
ranks. But there were too many of them and they moved too rapidly to
study the individual faces. However, as the men finally entered the
prison gate the line halted a moment. Then something must have occurred
to delay them still more. Six or eight rows of men were compelled to
stand at attention.
One of the guards near Barbara moved ahead to find out what caused the
obstruction. This was Barbara's chance to get a good look at the
soldiers. So she began with the one in the line directly opposite her.
The young man was undeniably an Englishman. He was about six feet tall
and as lean as possible without illness. He wore no hat and his hair was
tawny as the hay he had just been cutting. Moreover, his eyes were the
almost startling blue that one only sees with a bronzed skin.
He did not look unhappy or bored, but extremely wide awake and "fit," as
the English say. Besides this, he seemed enormously interested in
Barbara. Obviously the young soldier was a gentleman, and yet equally
obvious was the fact that he was staring.
All at once Barbara moved forward a few steps until she was nearer the
prisoner than she should have been. This was because she had seen him
somewhere before but could not for the moment recall his name.
"Lieutenant Hume!" Barbara exclaimed suddenly under her breath. "I am
sorry; I did not know you were a prisoner!"
The young soldier did not move a muscle in his face, yet his eyes
answered the girl with sufficient eloquence.
There was not a second to be lost. Barbara knew the prisoner was not
allowed to speak to her. Also she was not expected to speak to him. But
she had an unlooked-for chance to say a few words, and what feminine
person would have failed to seize the opportunity!
"We are nursing here in Brussels, all of us," she went on rapidly,
keeping as careful a lookout as possible. "The other girls will be
grieved to hear of your bad luck. If possible, would you like one of us
to write you?"
For half a second Lieutenant Hume's rigidity relaxed. Yet once again his
answer was in the look he flashed at the girl. Then next the order came.
The soldiers were marched inside the prison and the gate swung to.
Immediately after Barbara and Dr. Mason started back to the hospital.
Really, Barbara felt ashamed of herself, she was such an extraordinarily
dull companion during the return journey. But she was both tired and
excited.
What an extraordinary experience to have spent a few hours at a German
prison and to have discovered two acquaintances. True, poor Monsieur
Bebé was scarcely an acquaintance, yet she had seen and spoken to him
before. As for Lieutenant Hume, he was almost a friend. At least, he had
been a friend of Nona's. She would be grieved to hear of his misfortune
and no doubt would try to be kind to him if it were possible.
As for Barbara, she meant to devote her energies to doing what she could
for the young Frenchman. If he were totally blind, surely the German
authorities might be persuaded to exchange him for one of their own men,
should proper interest be shown in his case. As soon as possible Barbara
decided she would go and consult Eugenia. She would be sure to have some
intelligent suggestion to make.
Barbara and Dr. Mason said farewell to each other outside the hospital
front door, as the man had other work before him.
Just as he was leaving the girl slipped her small hand inside his.
"I have had a more interesting afternoon than you realize," she
insisted, "and thank you for taking me with you. I am sorry that I have
been such a tiresome companion on our way home."
The young man smiled down upon the tired little nurse. The fact that she
was a nurse struck him as an absurdity, as it did almost every one else.
"You have been a perfect trump, Miss Meade, and if anybody is to blame
it is I, for taking you upon such a fatiguing expedition. Will you go
with me upon a more cheerful excursion some day?"
Barbara nodded. Dr. Mason was looking at her with the frankest
admiration and friendship. It was good to be admired and liked. Then she
turned and disappeared inside the big hospital door.
Dr. Mason continued to think of her until he reached the house of his
next patient.