CHAPTER IVA LONELY NIGHT
FOOTSORE, weary, hour after hour Lucie dragged herself along. The little bundle, which at first seemed not too great a weight, at last became intolerably heavy. One by one Paulette disposed of her bundles. Mons. Du Bois staggered under the valises, but refused to give them up. Poor little Pom Pom faithfully followed his mistress. At times he would lie down quite exhausted but always he caught up with his friends.
At last came along a cart drawn by two stout horses whose driver hailed them. “Ah, Mons. Du Bois, this is a sad journey for you,” he said. “I can perhaps give you a lift.”
Mons. Du Bois hesitated. “You are very kind, my friend,” he said at last. “It is not I who need the lift, but if you could take these valises a short distance it would ease my old back. In my soldiering days I could carry a much heavier weight. I tried in vain to hire some sort of conveyance, but everything was spoken for. My youthful strength has forsaken me, I fear.”
“I can make room for you,” insisted the man.
“Not for me, but for my granddaughter, perhaps.”
“Then mademoiselle?” The man turned to Lucie.
She shook her head. “No, no, I am young and strong. I prefer it should be my grandfather. We can travel along slowly, grandpère, and meet you farther on, by nightfall.”
“We shall not be traveling very fast with our load,” said the driver, “and we shall not more than make the next village where is the station. It was still untouched from last reports and I hope one can travel by rail the rest of the way. Come, monsieur, better mount the cart.”
Mons. Du Bois argued still further, but at last consented to accept the man’s kind offer. The old man was very weary and that wound which he had received in his soldiering days still gave him discomfort.
“We can relieve you a little of your load, too, my good woman,” the man told Paulette. “Let us have one of those heavy baskets.” Nothing loath Paulette handed up a basket, and the wagon moved on, the two sturdy horses quite equal to the added weight.
The Le Bruns, whom at first they had outdistanced, passed them some time before, Mons. Le Brun having been able to persuade the man with the ramshackle carriage, for a goodly sum, to take them in, although it seemed as if anymoment the carriage might break down or the horse give out, so many were the passengers. Annette had waved her hand as they drove past.
“Are you going to Paris?” asked Lucie.
“No,” Annette called back. “We are going to my grandmother’s sister. She will be glad to take us in.”
It was something to know where Annette was going, Lucie thought, although she would turn aside a little later on, and her destination was nowhere near Paris. It must be to Victor’s home they were going. It was a pity that Pom Pom could not have gone with them, Lucie reflected.
She continued to plod stolidly along with Paulette. They spoke little. It took all their energies to keep up the steady pace. Finally Lucie found herself saying over dully: “At the next village we shall meet grandfather and take the train.” Evidently the same thought was in Paulette’s mind, for she turned after a while to say: “It cannot be much farther, little one. By sundown we should arrive.”
“Where do we sleep, Paulette?”
“Who knows? There must be some spot. No doubt Monsieur will arrange for that before we come. There is no question but we shall sleep well.”
This was comforting and spurred Lucie’s lagging tread to a brisker one. Pom Pom toiled patiently along behind her. Once in a whilehe stopped short, looked back, then took up his line of march, his eyes fixed steadfastly upon the track of his mistress.
At last as the sun was setting they heard a shout ahead, then a confused murmur of voices raised high in a clamor of discontent.
“What can it be, Paulette?” cried Lucie, stopping short.
“We shall see,” Paulette answered laconically.
They went on a little farther, reaching a slight rise in the road. Paulette stood still, shaded her eyes and looked toward the village of their destination. “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, “there is no more a station,” for beyond them were shattered walls, torn tracks, smoking ruins.
Lucie sank down on the ground and burst into tears from sheer fatigue and disappointment. Pom Pom crept close to her, licking her hands and whining his sympathy. “What shall we do? What shall we do?” moaned the girl. “I am so tired, Paulette, oh, so tired. I do not see how I can walk another step.”
“I know, my child, I know. Let me think for a moment.” The brave woman looked keenly around. Not far away was a cow shed which had escaped destruction. “I cannot leave you here by the roadside,” mused Paulette. “Let us go to the little shed, my dear one. I can leave you there while I go to hunt up Monsieur. It is evident that there is no inn left in thatvillage, but one never knows what may be found till he seeks. Come, we will examine that cow shed.”
They left the road, turned into a field, red with poppies, and reached the modest shelter to find it, if not very clean, at least empty. Some bits of rope hanging from a nail, and a pile of straw gave sole evidence of any former presence, if one does not include the barnyard odor.
“It is not a palace,” declared Paulette, “but it is a shelter and out of the way. I think the owners have fled, so one may rest assured that it will not be invaded. Rest here, child, but do not permit yourself to be seen. I will leave the baskets and bundles so as to be the quicker in returning. The little dog will be a protection.”
“From what?” asked Lucie in alarm.
“From nothing,” returned Paulette with a wry smile. “From frogs in the pond, crickets in the grass maybe.”
Thus reassured Lucie took a seat on the pile of straw just inside the door while Paulette deposited the baskets near by, Pom Pom looking interestedly on.
As Paulette started off with many assurances of a speedy return. Pom Pom looked questioningly after her. Was he to go, too? His eyes inquired of Lucie.
“No, no, Pom, you are to stay with me,” she told him, and with a sigh of content the tiredlittle creature dropped down on the straw, and, with head on paws, went off to sleep.
It was very quiet. For a while one could not realize that so lately war had been so close at hand, that shrieking bombs had flown overhead, that screaming of shells, booming of guns, whir of airplanes had disturbed this peace, and had wrought destruction in passing this little corner of the world.
The sun went down leaving clouds of flaming red which turned to pallid gray. Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. Once or twice there was a distant roar of guns. Lucie wondered sorrowfully if it came from her town or some other. She began to feel very hungry, but concluded to wait for Paulette who should return at any moment. It grew darker and darker, but no Paulette.
“If I wait till it grows any darker,” decided Lucie, “I shall not be able to find the food.” She moved over to the basket, remembering that Paulette had supplied, for their noonday meal, bread, butter, cheese, roasted chicken. As Pom Pom heard her at the basket he pricked up his ears, then arose with a yawn and wagged his tail.
“You are hungry, too, poor Pom Pom,” said Lucie lifting the lid of the basket. “Ciel!” she exclaimed as she peered down into the contents of the basket, “it is not food at all which we havehere. The basket which held that must have gone with grandfather in the wagon. What a misfortune! No doubt Paulette thought she handed up the one which holds the utensils. She was flurried and the two are exactly alike. I wish she would return so we could join those others and get the food. I have half a mind to go on. To be sure I could carry never these things, but perhaps they would be safe here and some one could return for them.”
It was a comfort to have the little dog to talk to, Lucie considered as she kept up a murmuring conversation. “It is very strange that she does not come, Pom Pom,” she said. “Surely it is not so far. One can see several lights quite plainly. Hark! there is another of those sharp reports; it is the third. They sound much nearer than those other rumbling growls. Figure to yourself, my Pom Pom, what it must be to live in the midst of the cannonading as my poor papa did. I wonder, oh, I wonder when I shall see him, my mother also. What would they say to behold my plight? Grandfather, of course, will let them know when we reach Paris. It seems very far away, that city of Paris. Why does not Paulette come, Pom Pom? It grows so very dark, she will not be able to find her way. If one had a lantern or a bit of candle, though perhaps it is better not, for as it is we are quite hidden as Paulette charged me to be.”
Pom Pom from time to time wagged his tail in response to the talk, but he had prowled around and had discovered a discarded bone which gave him some satisfaction and to which he gave his best attention, bare as it was. At last when Lucie had lapsed into a silence, and the darkness had settled down upon them, he drew very close and lay down with his head in the lap of his mistress, once in a while giving her hand a reassuring lick.
As the moments passed Lucie grew more and more concerned. She was of two minds about staying. Suppose she started off in the dark, she might lose her way and miss Paulette altogether. Paulette would be distracted at not finding her. Suppose she stayed. It was an appalling prospect to remain in that dreary place by herself. She who had never spent a night away from the safety of her own roof, to be utterly alone in a place whose very name was unknown to her, could not tell what terrors might befall her. She resolved that she would keep watch all night. Paulette might arrive at any moment. She propped herself up against a corner of the shed as best she could, her bundle behind her, Pom Pom at her feet. The stars were coming out. The frogs piped up again, then the crickets. Presently another sudden sound of explosion. “Paulette, Paulette, why don’t you come? It is so lonely here, so—dark—so dark.” Pom Pom stirred. Lucie put out her hand wanderingly to rest it on his head as he moved closer up by her side. Her head dropped till it rested on her bundle, then she was not conscious of anything more. Little maid and little dog slept the night through. Once only Pom Pom stirred, pricked up his ears, sat up and listened, then snuggled back with a sigh and went off again into a sound sleep.
Victor spread the doubled paper upon the spotVictor spread the doubled paper upon the spot. Lucie put out her little slim foot, stepped lightly and was over.
Victor spread the doubled paper upon the spot. Lucie put out her little slim foot, stepped lightly and was over.
Victor spread the doubled paper upon the spot. Lucie put out her little slim foot, stepped lightly and was over.
It was early, early in the morning when Lucie was aroused by a sudden squawk, a wild flutter of wings. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to behold a much ruffled hen disappearing out of the doorway and cackling her best. Dazed with sleep Lucie thought at first she must be dreaming, but the cackling fully aroused her. She looked around, bewildered. “Where in the world am I?” she exclaimed. Then the events of the day before came back to her. She stood up, shaking the straw from her dress. “Of all things!” she exclaimed, “I have spent the entire night in this dirty place, and have slept like a Christian. Who could believe it? Thank heaven there is no door, so one could at least have fresh air. Where is Paulette, and where indeed is Pom Pom?”
She went out into the field to look around. Dew lay on the grass. The poppy buds were unfolding. A lark sang soaring overhead. The hen, having concluded her triumphantremarks, was on the search for breakfast and was picking around quite as if all her friends and neighbors had not been carried off.
“It is most strange what has become of that Paulette,” murmured Lucie, looking more and more troubled. “Since she has not returned to me it is plain that I must go in search of her. As for Pom Pom, he will not have strayed far. I have no doubt but he will come back to me. Now that it is daylight and I am rested it should not be difficult to get to the station if I had but something to eat before I go. What a thing to have done to sleep all night when I meant to keep watch. Well, as one may say:Avise la fin: consider the end. I am refreshed, though I would be more so if I had had a mouthful of supper and could look forward to a bite of breakfast. I should probably be exhausted but for the sleep. As for Pom Pom, no doubt he has gone off to forage for himself. What a thing to have the nose of a dog so that one can pry into corners and so discover food. If they had left the cow behind there would be the milk, though if the cow had remained she might have objected to sharing her bed with me. I am very sure I should be one to feel the same objection. However, we dispose of that since there is no cow. Neither is there anything to eat that I can discover. One cannot feed on poppies nor on grass. I wish Pom Pom would come. I shouldnot then feel so deserted and I must try to walk to that village. I may faint before I get there; I feel so empty, but I must make the effort. Anything is better than staying here to starve. What would my parents say if they knew I am without a breakfast altogether?”
She sat down forlornly in the doorway, continuing her soliloquy. “If one but had a piece of chocolate to nibble. If I had but saved that which I had in my bag when I started, but, improvident that I am! it was all gone before night. Well, there is nothing to do but make myself take to the road, although of a truth I must confess I do not like to undertake a journey on an empty stomach.”
She sat puzzling over the situation, when her eyes fell on the little hen pecking industriously around. She jumped to her feet exclaiming: “Of course! Where there is a cackle there must be an egg. I will hunt for it.”
She returned to the interior of the shed, hunting among the straw, but nothing came of this. There was a small shelf high up in one corner, Lucie stood on tiptoe to look at it. There were some wisps of straw upon it which well might serve for a nest. She felt sure that it was from this place the hen had flown. She tried to touch the spot but was unable to reach so far.
“There is no use in trying to pull down the hay,” she said to herself, “for of what use woulda broken egg be, unless Pom Pom should choose to lap it up? If I could only find something to stand on I might reach it.” She tried to clamber up by means of the crannies in the wall, but the shelf was a corner one and in such position that she could get at it no better and was obliged to give up this attempt. Next she went outside and began to look around for a box, a stone, anything which she could stand upon and so come within reach of the coveted prize. At last she managed to get hold of a stone which she laboriously rolled to the spot. She stepped upon it, and began feeling around, but her hand found nothing but the hay; if eggs there were they were still out of reach.
This latest disappointment was too much for her. Utterly tired out, faint and distressed, she sat down and began to weep forlornly. These extra efforts had taken all her reserve strength and she felt sick and weak.
Meanwhile down the road was trotting Pom Pom who had been on a voyage of discovery. If breakfast would not come to him he must go find the breakfast, was his way of settling matters. So he had started forth as soon as he realized that Lucie was awake and in no present need of his defense. First he scared up a flock of birds but these offered no special inducement, for he was not out for a frolic. Next he scratched madly away at a stone under which a field mousehad hidden, but the mouse was too wary for him, and he gave up this sport. Pretty soon he came to a little pool of water where he refreshed himself and felt better. Once in a while he stopped to look back at the cow shed to make sure that his mistress had not left it. He stood undecided at a turn of the road. If he went farther he would lose sight of the cow shed; if he retraced his steps he was still breakfastless, and it would prove a bootless adventure. He decided to go on. His nose was to be depended upon quite as much as his eyes and his mistress could not get away without his ability to track her. Victor was quite right when he called him a wise little dog, for in course of time he proved himself worthy the praise.
It was not very long before he came upon something which gave him complete satisfaction, and after an intimate interview with the object, he began dragging it back along the road over which he had come. Once in a while he lay down and employed himself in gnawing at one end of the burden, thus balancing the weight by disposing of some on the inside, some on the out.
In course of time Lucie lifted her teary eyes and looked off in the direction of the road over which Pom Pom was traveling. She saw a small animal trotting along, stopping now and then to get a better grasp of the thing he carried.
“Pom Pom! It is Pom!” cried Lucie starting toher feet. “He is bringing something. I wonder what in the world he has found.” She gave the whistle which always brought him. He tossed up his head, gave a quick bark and seemed inclined to relinquish the prize he had brought thus far. He stood over it for a moment, then concluded he would not abandon it, for he took a fresh hold and came on.
Lucie ran forward to meet him. He saw her coming and stopped to stand guard over his capture, wagging his tail violently when she called to him. “He seems very proud of himself,” said Lucie. “I must find out why. Pom Pom, what is it you have there?” she asked.
Pom Pom danced forward barking joyously, then ran back to his booty.
Lucie stooped down to examine what lay upon the ground. “Bread!” she exclaimed. “What a dog!” for before her was what remained of a long loaf of bread; evidently it had fallen from the basket of some refugee, possibly from that very missing basket. There remained only about half the original loaf. The two ends had been gnawed off and it was no better for having been dragged through the dusty road. But bread it was, and at sight of it tears again rose to Lucie’s eyes. “You dear dog! You darling Pom,” she murmured, caressing him. “What have you done for me, and they would have had me leave you behind! Ah, my Pom, no power can nowseparate us. The bread is not very clean, to be sure, but how much better than nothing. You shall have the outside while I will take the rest. There are knives in that basket, I know, for I discovered them when I was hoping to find food. If one could but get at that nest, one would not fare so badly in spite of the egg being raw. Come, Pom Pom!” and Pom Pom came.
She sat down with renewed courage, pared off the crusts and gave them to Pom Pom, who, after all, was not so hungry as he had been. It was rather a stuffy meal, but every crumb of it was devoured when Lucie at last was ready to start out. She carried only her own bundle. The rest of the luggage she must leave, likewise the unattainable egg, which remained to lure back the little hen to her nest. The hen, indeed, was the sole living creature to whom Lucie could make her adieux. One may never know the fate of that particular hen nor her eggs, though it is to be hoped they did their part in the preservation of life in that devastated region.