Part 19 (1/2)
”And there--where my finger points!”
She stepped a little behind him and looked along his arm. Beyond the fingers' end, breaking out of the mantle of night, were one-two-three-four bright, sharp flashes in regular succession, followed by reports, one-two-three-four.
”Listen!”
There was a rumble of wheels on the main road, mingled with the shouts of men, very audible once one's mind was centred on it.
”The near, sharp flashes are from the French guns! The others are the burst of sh.e.l.ls! They are fighting there--there in sight of us!” Helen exclaimed, gripping Phil's arm. ”The war has come to Mervaux! This will be terrible for mother! We must be careful how we break the news to her.”
”Yes, she must go,” said Phil. ”Wait!”
He was straining his eyes at something which she could net see.
Finally she made out a moving, lumpish sort of procession coming from the road. As it drew nearer she recognised it as a battery of guns, which stopped behind a clump of woods in a hollow. She heard the commands and saw the groups of horses swing round and then go to the rear.
”I'll speak to them. Perhaps they can tell us what to expect,” said Phil.
”Shan't I go with you? My French may help.”
”Yes, that's so. Shall I never forget that everybody doesn't speak English and that only the English really understand my French?”
Together they walked across the dewy fields till an officer of the battery flashed his electric pocket lamp in their faces, as he stepped from among his men busy emplacing the _soixante-quinze_ for action.
”Monsieur! What is your business here? Who are you?” he asked.
”I am an American stopping at the chateau over there and this is my cousin,” Phil managed to say in his school French.
”His accent is not German, you will agree, _mon capitaine_!” put in Helen.
”Nor yours, but Parisian, Mademoiselle!” He was very polite, but the voice was tired. ”You had better go back to the chateau and stay, lest your purpose be misunderstood. We are very sharp about such things in war time.”
”How is it going?” They asked the question together; the question of all France.
”It is not for an artilleryman to say; but if I were you and you have the means I'd get away--not that the Germans may come here, but there may be sh.e.l.l-fire. If you remain and there is sh.e.l.ling, go into the cellar. And don't alarm the villagers. They glut the road with their carts.”
”You are very kind. Good luck for France!”
”For France! _Au revoir, Monsieur_!”
The two cousins were startled by the crashes of a salvo from the battery before they were halfway back to the chateau grounds.
CHAPTER XIII
A MATTER OF GALLANTRY
After Helen had left the room, Henriette staring at the closed door suddenly swept toward it and swung it half open, only to shut it with a bang. Doubtfully she turned, then sprang to the window as if to call Helen back. She had a glimpse of her sister on the path, but again her impulse was arrested.
Now she sat down on the edge of the bed, pressed her fingers to her temples, and for a while was motionless except for the restless tapping of her foot on the floor. At length her hands dropped to her side, the tapping ceased and, with a shrug of her shoulders, she rose, turned on the lights and looked at herself in the mirror, where she had always found the solution of the few problems that had ever vexed her. As rea.s.suring this in her present mood as for the miser to find his gold still there when he opens his strong box upon returning from a journey.
She smiled at the mirror and the mirror smiled back, and she allowed herself a prolonged, luxurious sigh.