_A Closer Bond_
Next day as soon as she had the opportunity Nona walked over to Madame
Bonnèt’s.
She had made an effort to see Barbara and try to awaken her
interest in their little French acquaintance, but again Barbara had
disappeared. But then she naturally had a good many things to attend
to in connection with winding up the business connected with the
entertainment of the night before.
And Nona did not object to going to Madame Bonnèt’s alone. This was one
of the things she had been fond of doing ever since her meeting with
the splendid French woman. However, one could not expect the privilege
often, for no one was so busy as Madame Bonnèt, nor had a greater
number of calls upon her time. Scarcely a soldier in the division
located within her village, but came to Madame Bonnèt for advice or
sympathy whenever anything went wrong.
Nona was never to forget the morning of this day when so many strange
things were to occur.
It was a day caught between summer and early fall, with the beauty and
fragrance of both. Moreover, in the French country there is ever a
curious appeal that only a few lands have. It is a sense of intimacy,
a sense of nearness to nature, as if she were really the great mother,
viewing birth and life and death with a wonderful patience, knowing
that within her lie always the seeds and the garden for the new
generations to come.
Besides, Nona had brought Duke with her. He seemed to like to walk
with her more than with anyone beside his mistress. But recently Duke
had been growing noticeably older and wore a look of noble depression,
which one observes now and then in the aging of a fine dog.
Nona went past Madame Bonnèt’s former home which she had given up to
the American officers, only glancing up at the tower where she and the
other nurses had seen their first American drill upon French soil.
Of course, Madame Bonnèt had probably taken Jeanne and her soldier into
her own tiny home with herself and Berthe, finding a place for them
somehow.
But perhaps the little girl and her companion would be outside in the
garden. As Nona went down the path between the vegetables she had the
impression that there were figures near the dove cote, a little hidden
from observation.
Within a few yards of them she stopped and to her own annoyance uttered
a slight exclamation.
Barbara Thornton and Lieutenant Kelley were deep in some kind of
intimate conversation.
Nona saw that Barbara flushed with anger on recognizing her; there was
in her manner almost a suggestion that she believed Nona had purposely
come to spy upon her.
But Lieutenant Kelley came forward immediately.
Nona thought he looked tired and a good deal older since his arrival in
France. But then she knew how hard the younger American officers were
working with the idea of being able to assist in the training of the
new troops when they arrived.
“Is there anyone you wish, or anything I can do for you?” he asked with
his usual courtesy.
Nona shook her head.
“I am sorry to have interrupted you. I was merely looking for Madame
Bonnèt. A little French girl is here with her whom I wish to see.”
“You mean Jeanne?” Lieutenant Kelley answered “Isn’t it strange, her
coming here to our camp. I saw the little girl with the French solder
only yesterday and recalled our having seen her at the railroad station
that day on our way to camp. But you are not interrupting us, or at
least Mrs. Thornton and I were having a conversation which could bear
being interrupted.”
Barbara had come forward by this time looking ashamed of her lack of
self-control, although her face was still a little flushed.
“Don’t be absurd, Nona!” she exclaimed. “I was talking to Lieutenant
Kelley on business. But what is this about a little French girl?”
Nona explained and Barbara linked her arm in hers, almost equally
surprised and interested.
“Queer that we should all have remembered the child and her soldier so
well. But no, it is not queer; one could scarcely have forgotten such a
companionship. May I come with you?”
So Nona and Barbara started toward Madame Bonnèt’s tiny house, leaving
Lieutenant Kelley talking to Duke and trying to make friends with him.
The great dog was friendly enough, but not disposed toward intimacies.
Just outside the door the two girls stopped. Someone was about to open
it, perhaps having heard their approach.
The next moment Jeanne stepped out, leading her friend as she always
did. But at the sight of Barbara and Nona she left him standing a
moment alone and came forward, giving her hand to Nona, but fixing her
eyes upon Barbara Thornton.
“It was you who told me to do my best to help my Captain find his
friends. I did not forget. When we could manage we slipped away
from our convalescent hospital without saying good-bye, as we would
have been forbidden to leave. Since then we have traveled many
miles, yet nothing has come of it.” She gave a tiny shrug of her
childish shoulders, half as an expression of philosophy, half as an
acknowledgment of defeat.
“But isn’t the Captain himself better?” Nona inquired, although
convinced beforehand of the truth.
The French soldier, whom, as an act of courtesy both to him and to
his guardian, everyone spoke of as “Captain,” remained in the same
spot Jeanne had placed him, his head hanging down and with a great
bandage tied over the upper part of his face. As a matter of fact, he
was thinner and more shrunken and vaguer than before he and Jeanne
had started upon their pilgrimage. But then they had walked so far,
reached so many strange places and so many questions had been asked
of him, impossible for him to answer! More than ever was the French
soldier dependent on the touch of Jeanne’s little hand.
And she, for the moment, had deserted him!
Then, for a brief time, Nona and Barbara and Lieutenant Kelley were
overcome with surprise and consternation. It chanced that Jeanne did
not notice at once or she might never have allowed the thing to take
place.
Lieutenant Kelley had remained where he was in the lower part of the
garden, allowing Barbara and Nona to have their meeting with Jeanne
undisturbed. As a precaution he had placed his hand on Duke’s collar,
thinking perhaps the dog might frighten the little girl, or more
likely, since it was difficult to associate timidity with Jeanne, that
he might startle her companion.
Suddenly, when he was not anticipating any action on Duke’s part, the
dog had looked at him with an expression which was imploring and at the
same time savage. Afterwards, he had broken away and with a few leaps
had crossed the small space of the garden, making directly for the
injured soldier.
The situation seemed incredible, Duke had never deliberately attacked
any human being before. Now to attack a defenseless man!
Hugh Kelley ran a few steps, drawing his pistol. He would not hurt the
dog seriously, if it were possible to avoid, but Jeanne’s friend must
be protected.
However, the great dog had not thrown the soldier down, as they had
all expected As he reached him he stopped short, looked at him closely
and then with indescribable gentleness and affection began licking his
hand, pressing his great silver-gray body as close as possible to the
emaciated figure without disturbing him.
And the French soldier did not seem frightened. Gropingly, it is true,
nevertheless he reached down and laid his hand on Duke’s head.
An instant before Jeanne had witnessed the meeting, but seeing that the
dog did not intend to hurt her friend, she had remained still.
Now she turned to Nona and Barbara her eyes filled with tears.
“My Captain has found someone who knows him,” she remarked quietly.
Then she went over and took the French soldier’s disengaged hand.
“Jeanne,” he whispered.
“Are we mad, Nona? I think perhaps I am,” Barbara murmured, her face
suddenly having grown white and her voice shaking.
Nona shook her head.
“Barbara, if what we think is true, would it not be better never to
have found out. Besides, you did not recognize him, nor did I? Can Duke
have been wiser?”
Barbara was crying. “Of course, Duke has senses we do not possess.
Besides, we were only his friends and Duke loved him. I thought there
was something familiar in the figure. No, I did not, there was never
any human being so changed. Poor Eugenia! I can’t bear it.”
Lieutenant Kelley was now standing nearby, looking extremely unhappy
over Barbara’s distress and extremely puzzled.
“We think perhaps Jeanne’s friend is someone we know,” Nona tried to
explain, “only we cannot really believe it and there seems no way of
finding out without great difficulty and sorrow.”
“Whoever he may be, Duke knows his master,” Hugh Kelley answered in a
tone of entire conviction. “I believe in all the cases of this kind of
which one has ever heard, there has never been a mistake.”
“Jeanne, why does your Captain always wear that bandage over his face?
Is it that he is blind, or has he some wound, there? Please don’t think
I ask from curiosity, but unless one can see him----”
Jeanne whispered something and the French soldier immediately bent his
head. Slowly Jeanne unwound the bandage.
“He can see a little, my Captain,” Jeanne answered proudly, “only the
surgeons have thought it best that he rest his eyes for a time, until
his sight comes wholly back.”
“Please look: and decide, Nona dear, I don’t dare,” Barbara whispered.
However, she did look of course and both she and Nona recognized in
Jeanne’s soldier Eugenia’s husband, Captain Henri Castaigne.
And yet he was so changed it was not strange that they had not
recognized him in their chance meeting before today.
The Captain Castaigne whom they remembered, the friend who had said
farewell to them at the little house with the blue front door, which
was a part of his own estate, had been young and gallant. He had borne
himself with a fine soldierly erectness, had been full of gayety and
good humor and charm, one’s ideal of a French soldier and lover, for he
and Eugenia had been married only lately.
Now he was Jeanne’s friend, but the pathos of him was beyond
expression. Not in death, but in life one measures the tragedies of war.
However, the eyes, the shape of the head, even the figure itself, left
no chance for doubting in either Nona’s or Barbara’s consciousness,
much as they would have preferred to doubt.
“You know Madame Castaigne, Lieutenant Kelley,” Nona said, as soon as
she could speak. “Her husband, Captain Castaigne, has been reported as
among the missing for a good many months. We believe Jeanne’s friend is
Captain Castaigne; it may even be that Jeanne’s name made some slight
impression upon his memory, for Gene is the name by which Captain
Castaigne always called his wife. But we don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t feel we ought to tell Eugenia; at least, I know I never can,”
Barbara interrupted.
“But we must, Barbara, we have no right to hide such a discovery,” Nona
argued. “Still, I do not think I can be the one to go to Eugenia first.
Oh, I did not dream I was such a coward!”
But at this moment another figure came walking toward them, with a
great bowl in her arms and an expression of ever triumphant courage
on her smooth, fine face. It was Madame Bonnèt on the way to feed her
carrier pigeons.
“We must ask Madame Bonnèt what to do. She will be able to tell us,”
Nona exclaimed and went forward with her story.