Part 30 (2/2)

The airman followed her in.... The prevaricating clock continued its dilatory march of time. Marshal Joffre was, if anything, more paternal than before, and the geranium-colored table cover lent its unsubtle glow to the scene.

”Good-by, Pippa,” he said.

The girl stood motionless, and there was a quick stab in her heart. She had known that this moment would come, but had kept her thoughts from it ... and now ... he was going....

Once more she would have only her little world of make-believe. She released the cat from her arms and turned her eyes away.

”You have been very kind, monsieur,” she said.

He fingered his helmet absent-mindedly. ”Did you enjoy it?” he asked aimlessly.

”It was wonderful,” she said quietly, still looking into distance; ”I have seen so much. This morning I was just a little girl, but now----”

His fingers ceased turning the helmet, and he frowned at it intently.

”We do not grow old with years but by moments,” he said. ”For a long time one is a child; then there comes an instant of suffering, or of love ... and one is no longer a child. That is all.”

She slowly sank into a chair by the table, and, folding her hands, appeared engrossed in the table cover. ”Your Majesty,” she said, ”do you remember the poor lady with the violets?”

”Yes, Pippa.”

”What did she say to you?”

He smiled awkwardly. ”It--it is rather hard to explain, little one. She told me to--to take care of you.”

”Why did she say that?” she asked without removing her eyes for a moment from the table.

”Well--perhaps you do not know this--but men are sometimes very unkind to women.”

”I know, monsieur. Simon Barit, he often beats his wife.”

He sat down on a chair opposite her. ”There are many more ways of being cruel than that,” he said. ”Sometimes a kiss, or the gift of a flower, is worse than a blow. Often, Pippa, men play with women's hearts as--well, as Louis does with a spool.”

A shadow fell on her face. ”I think I understand, monsieur. That poor lady was afraid I should fall in love with you, but that you would not love me.”

”That is partly what she meant.”

Pippa rose and walked to the window. ”To-night I think,” she said, after a minute's silence, ”that women have the most sorrow in life.”

”They do, little one.”

”But also the most joy, monsieur.”

He rested his chin on his hand, but said nothing.

”All to-day,” resumed the girl, ”when men seemed happiest it was because they were with women. Also when they looked most cruel--you perhaps know what I mean--there were women there too with the faces that frightened me. And all those lovely children playing in the park--always they seemed so merry because their mothers were near them.

But also, you remember the poor soldier in the chair?--no legs and but one arm. His face was so sad until once the lady with him--a nurse, you said--spoke to him and he looked at her and smiled. It was lovely, monsieur. I think I wept a little.”

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