CHAPTER XV
This long and anxious day closed, and night came. Belinda did not go back to old Minerva's. She was sure she would find nobody at the thatch-roofed cottage. Indeed, she might not find even the cottage itself.
Erard, a most unheroic figure in his soiled cook's apron and cap, insisted upon Belinda seeking rest. He took his usual place in nominal charge of the ward at night, after preparing a meal for all that was more filling than dainty.
The nurse lay within call and without removing her clothes; and thus managed to obtain a few hours' sleep.
The rumble and roar of the guns had now become so familiar to her ears that she scarcely noticed the noise—unless of a shell that burst near by. But not many of these startling explosions occurred. The big German guns were throwing their iron beyond the site of the abandoned hospital.
That Belinda had been left behind in the haste and confusion of the final evacuation was not to be wondered at. The injury to thedirectriceand the shocking death of themédecin chefhad made the hurried departure from the hospital almost a rout.
The huddled body of the dead physician lay where it had fallen in the yard. There was no time to give to the dead when the wounded needed so much of her strength.
With no night nurse, no assistance of orderlies, the work bore heavily upon Belinda and herinfirmier. Jacob did what he could; but his wounds had been painful and he was only able to hobble about the ward.
Erard crept to Belinda's side as she was busy preparing packs and bandages for the day's dressings, and whispered:
"Mademoiselle, what will you do when theBochescome? Me, I shall slip away. I am a small man—and a cripple. They will not bother one like me. But you, Mademoiselle——"
"I speak German," Belinda said briefly.
"But you wear the French insignia." He touched lightly with his finger the A. D. F. and bar on her breast. "Hide that," Erard whispered warningly. "Let even theseBoches," with a gesture toward the ward, "forget it if they will. Take off your cap and the Red Cross, too. The German Red Cross nurses wear different caps—and their Geneva Cross is in different form, too. Be German, Mademoiselle. It is for the best."
"Papa Jacob says I am already German," Belinda said, with a smile.
"Ma foi!Let it be so. I swear you speak the gutturals like a native. Let them all think so."
It was, after all, good advice, and after a little hesitancy she obeyed. From what she had heard of the rudeness of Prussian officers she doubted if her position as a Red Cross worker—especially under the French Department—would aid her.
Nor was she at all sure how her present patients would treat her if the German troops marched in. Some of them she had cared for through many weeks; but they had been rasped and embittered by their imprisonment. They would not forget, perhaps, that she had nursed them under protest.
Erard had difficulty in finding food supplies for them all. He ventured outside the gate in the hedge and came back to report that the village was deserted. They had made breakfast; but he declared the prospect of another meal was limited to "cobblestone soup."
The littleinfirmierwas absent on some mission from the ward when the first of the enemy arrived. Belinda, boiling instruments and writing up temperature charts just as though she expected the usual visit of the doctor, suddenly heard the hurried tramp of feet without. A command in German to "ground arms" followed. The door swung inward.
A man in steel helmet and long cloak strode into the ward. She heard the clank of his equipment as he stepped across the threshold.
Turning to let the door swing to, his eye caught the trophy of flags upon the end wall of the ward. The sight seemed to fire him with wrath.
He threw open his cloak and drew the saber from its scabbard with a single gesture.
He uttered an angry ejaculation, and with a sweeping blow cut the banners from their fastenings. As they fell he trampled upon them with his muddy boots.
He had not seen Belinda. She had risen shakingly at his entrance; but at this insult to the colors she flung herself forward, crying in English:
"Stop! Youshallnot!"
There was a rumble of excited voices behind her from the Germans on the cots. The officer swung about, his sword ready to receive the attack her cry seemed to threaten. When he saw it was but one woman he dropped the point of the weapon and strode a single pace forward, staring at her with dawning amazement.
The banners, entangled in his heavy boots, were kicked forward along the boards. The small American flag, broken from its wand, slithered to her feet. Belinda stooped, scarcely knowing why she did so, seized the silken flag and crumpling it as she rose again, thrust it into the bosom of her blouse.
"Ist es möglich?" gasped the corporal, thrusting back his helmet She saw his features and an answering cry broke from her lips:
"Carl! Carl Baum!"
"Belinda! My little cousin! 'Linda! Is it possible?"
He advanced his gloved hand instead of the sword and seized her doubtful one.
"What are you doing here, 'Linda?" he demanded. "Am I crazy? I cannot believe my eyes. What does it mean?"
"I am the nurse in charge of this ward, Carl," and her self-possession returned. "The French wounded have all been removed. There was not time to take these poor fellows. They are all your countrymen—and were prisoners."
"I see!" he cried, beaming upon her. "You bravely stayed to nurse them? Ah! I love you for it, my cousin!"
"I am of the Red Cross service," she told him.
"Red Cross? Of the German——?"
"French. But I came from America to help."
His expression of countenance changed. "Not to help these accursed French?" he growled.
"Why not? It is a work of mercy," she said coolly.
"Ah, I see. You could not get to Germany."
"I was not sure that I wished to help Germany," she said quietly. "This work was thrust upon me," and she motioned to the wounded men on the cots, "because I could speak their language."
"What do I hear you say?" cried Carl Baum. "Your heart does not bleed for your country——?"
Her head came up and her eyes flashed as she interrupted him:
"No more my country than France is my country!"
"Ach!these accursed Americans! Are all Germans in those States outlaws?" cried the young man, his wrath rekindled. "Well? What is it?" for Jacob stood at his elbow.
"The Fräulein is German," the old man said with confidence. "She has been the angel of the ward. Some of us would have died without her care and would never have struck another blow for the Fatherland. Think of this, sir. She remained when all the others deserted us and the shells began to fall."
He turned swiftly to the listening ward:
"Ist es nicht wahr, meine Kinder?" and the answering cry was chorused from every cot: "Yah! Yah!"
The girl beamed upon her grizzled champion.
"Carl," she said to her angry cousin, "we must not quarrel. The whole world sees not as you do."
"But itshould," grumbled the young man. "What am I to tell the Herr Lieutenant? I was sent to seize this station. Our own wounded will be brought in. We have the detested French on the run at last. The Herr Doktor will soon take charge here."
"I will report to him," said Belinda calmly. "And will be glad to continue to assist as I may. My ward is in good order, he will find. We need supplies and—I am afraid my little helper, theinfirmieras they call him, Erard, has run away. Be kind to him if you find him, Carl."
"That is true, Corporal. He is a good little man," said Jacob. "And he can make soup."
"Gott!is that a recommendation to mercy?" and for the first time the young man laughed.
He was, after all, only a rosy-faced youth, Belinda thought.
"Attend to Ernest, please, Jacob," she said with confidence. "I will talk to my cousin."
"Cousin 'Linda," murmured Carl, with growing comprehension as he gazed upon her, "what a beauty you've grown to be! The photograph you sent us doesn't begin to do you justice."
"You flatter me, Carl," she said, surprising herself by her casual tone and manner. Yet her heart beat heavily in her bosom. The prospect before her seemed dark.
"Wait till Paul Genau sees you," continued Carl. "He always has raved over you. But then—he does over every pretty girl he meets. He did over some of those Belgian girls last year—and they were cows," added Carl frankly.
"Paul is well, then?" Belinda interrupted him to ask.
"He is sergeant-major of our company. No end of a swell, too. And clever! Oh, yes, Paul is clever! We must give him credit for that."
Carl, she could see, was the same thoughtless, kindly, rather "chuckled-headed" lad she had known of old. She was thinking quickly, for she knew her position might be made or marred by small things.
"Can you see Paul before reporting to your Herr Lieutenant, Carl?" she asked. "You see, if both of you speak well of me the over-officers will be more likely to consider me safe. I would not like to desert these poor fellows now."
"Yes, I'll find Paul," promised the good-natured young corporal. "And he's smart. He'll know just what we must say."
He waved his hand and strode out of the door. Belinda put a hand to her heart as though to still its throbbing and sat down suddenly. She heard Carl set a sentinel at her door. She felt herself to be in some personal peril, yet of what nature she scarcely knew.