Part 14 (1/2)
”_Something_ is wrong somewhere in Finistere. That is evident to me. There have been too many rumours from too many sources. By sea and land they come--rumours of things half seen, half heard--glimpses of enemy aircraft, sea-craft. Yet their presence would appear to be an impossibility in the light of the military intelligence which we possess.
”But we have investigated every rumour; although I, personally, know of no report which has been confirmed. Nevertheless, these rumours persist; they come thicker and faster day by day. But this--” He hesitated, then smiled--”this seems rather different----”
”I know. I realize that I have invited ridicule----”
”Countess----”
”You are too considerate to say so.... And perhaps I have become nervous--imagining things. It might easily be so. Perhaps it is the sadness of the past year--the strangeness of it, and----”
She sighed unconsciously.
”It is lonely in the Wood of Aulnes,” she said.
”Indeed it must be very lonely here,” he returned in a low voice.
”Yes.... Aulnes Wood is--too remote for them to send our wounded here for their convalescence. I offered Aulnes. Then I offered myself, saying that I was ready to go anywhere if I might be of use. It seems there are already too many volunteers. They take only the trained in hospitals. I am untrained, and they have no leisure to teach ... n.o.body wanted me.”
She turned and gazed dreamily at the forest.
”So there is nothing for me to do,” she said, ”except to remain here and sew for the hospitals.” ... She looked out thoughtfully across the fern-grown _carrefour_: ”Therefore I sew all day by the latticed window there--all day long, day after day--and when one is young and when there is n.o.body--nothing to look at except the curlew flying--nothing to hear except the _vanneaux_, and the clocks striking the hour----”
Her voice had altered subtly, but she lifted her proud little head and smiled, and her tone grew firm again:
”You see, Monsieur, I am truly becoming a trifle morbid. It is entirely physical; my heart is quite undaunted.”
”You heart, Madame, is but a part of the great, undaunted heart of France.”
”Yes ... therefore there could be no fear--no doubt of G.o.d.... Affairs go well with France, Monsieur?--may I ask without military impropriety?”
”France, as always, faces her destiny, Madame. And her destiny is victory and light.”
”Surely ... I knew; only I had heard nothing for so long.... Thank you, Monsieur.”
He said quietly: ”The Light shall break. We must not doubt it, we English.
Nor can you doubt the ultimate end of this vast and h.e.l.lish Darkness which has been let loose upon the world to a.s.sail it. You shall live to see light, Madame--and I also shall see it--perhaps----”
She looked up at the young man, met his eyes, and looked elsewhere, gravely. A slight flush lingered on her cheeks.
On the doorstep of the house they paused. ”Is it possible,” she asked, ”that an enemy aeroplane could land in the Aulnes etang?--L'etang aux Vanneaux?”
”In the etang?” he repeated, a little startled. ”How large is it, this etang aux Vanneaux?”
”It is a lake. It is perhaps a mile long and three-quarters of a mile across. My old servant, Anne, had seen the werewolf in the reeds--like a man without a face--and only two great eyes--” She forced a pale smile.
”Of course, if it were anything she saw, it was a real man.... And, airmen dress that way.... I wondered----”
He stood looking at her absently, worrying his short mustache.