“Now steel-hoofed War is loosened on the world,With rapine and destruction, as the smokeFrom ashen farm and city soils the sky.Earth reeks. The camp is where the vineyard was.The flocks are gone. The rains are on the hearth,And trampled Europe knows the winter near.Orchards go down. Home and cathedral fallIn ruin, and the blackened provincesReach on to drear horizons. Soon the snowShall cover all, and soon be stained with red,A quagmire and a shambles, and ere longShall cold and hunger dice for helpless lives.So man gone mad, despoils the gentle earthAnd wages war on beauty and on good.“And yet I know how brief the reign shall beOf Desolation. But a little while,And time shall heal the desecrated lands,The quenchless fire of life shall take its own,The waters of renewal spring again.Quiet shall come, a flood of verdure clotheThe fields misused. The vine and tree once moreShall bloom beside the trench, and humble roofsCover again the cradle and the bed.Yea! Life shall have her way with us, untilThe past is dim with legend, and the daysThat now in nightmare brood upon the worldShall fold themselves in purples of romance,The peace shall come, so sure as ripples endAnd crystalline tranquillity returnsAbove a pebble cast into a pool.”
“Now steel-hoofed War is loosened on the world,With rapine and destruction, as the smokeFrom ashen farm and city soils the sky.Earth reeks. The camp is where the vineyard was.The flocks are gone. The rains are on the hearth,And trampled Europe knows the winter near.Orchards go down. Home and cathedral fallIn ruin, and the blackened provincesReach on to drear horizons. Soon the snowShall cover all, and soon be stained with red,A quagmire and a shambles, and ere longShall cold and hunger dice for helpless lives.So man gone mad, despoils the gentle earthAnd wages war on beauty and on good.“And yet I know how brief the reign shall beOf Desolation. But a little while,And time shall heal the desecrated lands,The quenchless fire of life shall take its own,The waters of renewal spring again.Quiet shall come, a flood of verdure clotheThe fields misused. The vine and tree once moreShall bloom beside the trench, and humble roofsCover again the cradle and the bed.Yea! Life shall have her way with us, untilThe past is dim with legend, and the daysThat now in nightmare brood upon the worldShall fold themselves in purples of romance,The peace shall come, so sure as ripples endAnd crystalline tranquillity returnsAbove a pebble cast into a pool.”
When Nona had finished neither she nor her companion made any comment for a moment.
Yet when the girl looked across at the older woman for her opinion, she discovered that Sonya’s cheeks had flushed and that her eyes were shining.
“Thank you, Nona; I shall not forget that,” she then said, repeating to herself, “‘The peace shall come, so sure as ripples end.’ I suppose the trouble is we have not faith and patience enough to believe that love and peace must triumph before God’s plan can be worked out.”
Then Sonya got up. “Come, Nona,”she suggested. “Don’t you think it would be more agreeable to take a walk. It is really a lovely afternoon and I’ve some things I wish to talk to you about. Besides, I want to see the woods you girls have told me of.”
It was delicious outdoors and Nona and Sonya both forgot their serious mood of a little while before. One could not be always serious even in war times in so lovely a land as southern France. No wonder the French nation is gay; it is their method of showing their gratitude for the country that gave them birth.
Finally the woman and girl reached the pool in the woods which Nona had once named “the pool of Melisande,” and Eugenia had afterwards called “the pool of truth.” However, since in Maeterlinck’s play Melisande was seeking the light in the depth of the water, perhaps after all the two titles had almost a similar meaning.
Anyhow, by the pool Sonya chose to make a confession.
“Do you remember, Nona, once long ago, or perhaps it just seems a long time to me,you and I met a Colonel Dalton, an officer in the British army whom I had known before. I think I promised then to tell you of my previous acquaintance with him. I had almost forgotten.”
Nona slipped her arm through her companion’s.
“Don’t tell me if you had rather not. We will both have a great deal to learn of each other when we go back to the United States to live together.”
Sonya smiled. “There is no use waiting. I have never even told you, Nona, whether or not I am married. You see, I am often called Madame Valesky in Russia, but that is only a courtesy title. I have never married. The fact is, I once lived in England for some time and was engaged to Colonel Dalton. I think we cared a good deal for each other, but he was a soldier and we did not approve of each other’s views of life. So by and by our engagement was broken off, which was probably the best thing for us both.”
“Has Colonel Dalton ever married?” Nona inquired inconsequentially.
Her companion shook her head. “Really, I don’t know. Suppose we walk on now to the hut where your little French girl Nicolete once lived.”
When the two friends reached the hut, Nona Davis exclaimed in amazement:
“What on earth has happened? Why, our hut isn’t a hut any longer; it is a charming little house with some one living in it. I am going to knock and see who it can be. French people are so courteous, I am sure they won’t mind telling me.”
Nona knocked and the next moment the door was opened by a young French woman. For an instant they stared at each other, then kissed in a bewilderingly friendly fashion.
“Why, Nicolete, I can’t believe my own eyes!” Nona protested. “What are you doing back here in your own little house, only it is so changed that I would scarcely have recognized it.”
Nicolete’s dark eyes shone and the vivid color flooded her face.
“I am married,” she explained. “You remember Monsieur Renay, whom MademoiselleBarbara named ‘Monsieur Bebé?’ Well,” Nicolete laughed bewitchingly, “he is my husband.”
“And is he——” Nona asked and hesitated.
Nicolete shook her head. “He can tell the light from the darkness, and now and then can see me moving in the shadow. Some day, the doctors say, his sight may be fully restored. He has seen the best specialists. Madame Eugenié sent us both to Paris. She it was who made us a home here in the woods out of the old hut, so that my husband might have the fresh air and grow strong to aid his recovery.”
“Madame Eugenié,” it was a pretty title and one that Eugenia would probably always have in this French country, which had so long known the old Countess as Madame Castaigne.
When Barbara and Mildred returned from the chateau Nona sincerely hoped they would bring news of Eugenia’s arrival, since she was growing more than anxious to see her again.
Back to contents
IN truth, Barbara and Mildred were having a delightful afternoon at the Chateau d’Amélie.
When they arrived, solemnly Fran¸ois invited them into the old French drawing room they so well remembered.
But here, instead of the slender, tiny figure of the old Countess appearing to greet them, a tall, dark young woman came forward, whose hair was wound about her head like a coronet.
“Eugenia!” Barbara exclaimed, and straightway shed several tears, while Eugenia and Mildred laughed at her.
Then the three girls went over and sat down on the same Louis XIV sofa that two of them had once occupied with young Captain Castaigne, on their first visit to the chateau.
This time Eugenia took the place ofhonor in the center, while each hand clasped one of her companions.
“Henri and I arrived just an hour ago,” she explained. “He found he could get a three days leave to come with me. Of course, I wished to rush off to the farmhouse before I even got my traveling things off. But since I am a much managed woman these days, I was made to wait until you came here. I have been expecting you every minute. Now tell me about Nona and Madame Valesky.”
This time it was Barbara who laughed. The idea of Eugenia’s being managed instead of managing other people was amusing. Besides, it was unlike her to talk so fast and ask so many questions without giving one time to reply.
So Barbara only held closer to her friend’s hand and looked at her, leaving Mildred the opportunity for answering.
It was still early in the afternoon and the sunshine flooded the beautiful drawing room. It was strange to see how at home Eugenia seemed to look and feel in it, when a little more than a year beforeshe and the old room had been so antagonistic.
Eugenia had changed. In the first place, she wore this afternoon a lovely costume of violet crepe, trimmed in old gold brocade. It was a costume that must have been specially designed for Eugenia, so perfectly did it suit her rather stately beauty and dark, clear coloring. This turned out to be true, since Eugenia a short time before had discovered a little French dressmaker, whom the war had rendered penniless, and given her work to do.
Now, even while Mildred was talking of Nona and Sonya, the drawing room door opened and Captain Castaigne and his mother came in.
Monsieur Le Duc accompanied them, but promptly deserted his former master and mistress and padded over to Eugenia, placing his great silver head on her lap and gazing at her with adoration.
Captain Castaigne and his mother followed to greet their guests. In his hand the young officer carried a number of letters which he gave at once to Barbara and Mildred.
“These just arrived at the chateau for you; they are American letters and so I am sure you will be pleased.”
Mildred’s were from her mother and father and Barbara had received three from Dick in this same mail, and another which looked as if it might be the long-expected letter from Mrs. Thornton.
After ten minutes of conversation, it was Captain Castaigne who proposed that their guests might be allowed to read their letters without waiting to return home. It was not difficult to guess at their impatience, since it must have been a long time since they had heard from home.
Then he and Eugenia crossed over to the other side of the room and stood by the fireplace. Le Duc went with them and Eugenia kept one hand on the dog’s head.
Now and then she smiled over something Captain Castaigne said to her, then again she looked at him with the anxious gravity that was a part of Eugenia’s character. The war had made the young French officer older, love and marriage had apparently taken ten years from Eugenia’s age.Plainly a beautiful understanding existed between the husband and wife, in spite of the differences in their natures, which would survive to the end.
For when Captain Castaigne suddenly lifted his wife’s hand and kissed it, it was like Eugenia to blush and whisper a protest, at which the young officer only laughed.
Over by the window Barbara and Mildred were really too busy with their letters to notice what was taking place. Madame Castaigne had gone out of the room for the instant to speak to Fran¸ois.
Of course, Barbara had read Dick’s letters first. She could only read them hastily, for Dick had written to say that he had a fine position with a big real estate office in New York City, and enough salary for two persons to live upon, in a tiny apartment on the west side. Barbara was to come home at once, else Dick would probably lose his job by deserting to fetch her. Also the letter from Mrs. Thornton was cheering. Whatever it may have been, something had occurred to change that lady’s state of mind. Perhaps it was her anxietyabout Mildred in the days when she knew nothing of her daughter’s fate except that Mildred had stayed behind at Grovno until the hour of the final surrender of the Russian fort.
For Mrs. Thornton had written to Barbara to say that she would be most happy to welcome her as Dick’s wife, and the dearest wish of her heart was to have her two daughters safe at home in New York City as soon as they were able to return.
Mildred’s letters were much of the same character, and the two girls had only barely finished them when Fran¸ois appeared bearing coffee and cakes.
Then the little party talked on until nearly dusk.
At last, when Barbara and Mildred felt compelled to leave, Eugenia proposed that she and Captain Castaigne walk over to the farmhouse with them. She did not feel that she could wait for another day before seeing Nona.
Nona and Sonya had just been in a few moments and taken off their wraps when the others arrived. And Nona need havefelt no nervousness over Eugenia’s attitude toward Sonya. Many things had happened to broaden Eugenia’s point of view since her arrival in Europe to act as a Red Cross nurse. Besides, few persons could fail to feel anything but sympathy and admiration for the beautiful Russian woman, whose life had come so near closing in tragedy.
There was not a great deal of food at the farmhouse, nevertheless Eugenia and Captain Castaigne remained to dinner.
Barbara and Mildred retired to act as cooks, while Eugenia and Sonya fell to talking together, and Nona and Captain Castaigne.
In the course of their talk Nona remembered to inquire for Lieutenant Hume, who was Captain Castaigne’s friend. At last she might be able to hear real news of the young British officer.
By good fortune Captain Castaigne had received a letter written by him in the same post that had brought Barbara’s and Mildred’s letters.
“Lieutenant Hume had gone to theUnited States and was living at the present time in Florida. He had appeared to have contracted a fatal illness during his imprisonment, but his letter had said he was feeling ever so much better.
“I can’t say how glad I am,” Captain Castaigne continued. “There was never a braver fellow in the world than Robert Hume. And besides, if he should happen to die just now, it would be particularly hard on his family. You see, Hume’s older brother, the one with the title, has just been killed in the Dardanelles. Robert Hume is Lord Hume now, I believe, and the English think more of titles than we do in Republican France,” the French officer concluded.
“But I thought,” Nona commented stupidly, “that Lieutenant Hume was a gardener’s son and had been educated by friends who were interested in him.”
Then Nona stopped, because Captain Castaigne was half smiling and half frowning over her information. Moreover, Nona suddenly remembered that what she was saying was founded partly on information and the rest on her own fancy.
“Lieutenant Hume told me he was the gardener’s son,” she protested, “or at least he called the gardener’s wife ‘Mother Susan.’”
Eugenia had suddenly spoken her husband’s name and Captain Castaigne had gotten up to go over to her.
However, he stopped long enough to expostulate. “That was an extraordinary idea of yours, Miss Davis. Hume was only talking of his old nurse. His mother died when he was a baby and she brought him up. I have heard him speak of ‘Mother Susan’ myself. The Countess you visited in Surrey is a cousin of Hume’s, I think, and the old nurse and her husband live there. Hume was having Mother Susan nurse him when you met, I expect. Hope you two may see each other some day in the United States and laugh over that impression of yours, Miss Davis,” Captain Castaigne concluded, as he walked over to his wife’s side.
At midnight Captain Castaigne and Eugenia went back to the chateau, walking hand-in-hand like children throughthe woods. There was no fighting these days in this particular portion of southern France and in the peace of the night one could almost forget that the world was at war.
“You will miss your friends when they return to their own country, Eugenia,” Captain Castaigne suggested.
Eugenia nodded. “Yes, they will be gone, I believe, in another month. But we will go over ourselves some day, Henri, and perhaps you may learn to care for my country as I do for yours.”
“Yes, and think of the service I shall owe her for the work the American Red Cross has done for France!” the young officer concluded, and in the darkness lifted his cap for a moment.
“Whatever Lafayette did for you in the cause of freedom, your land has now fully repaid.”
THE END
BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOKTHE RANCH GIRLS SERIESThe Ranch Girls at Rainbow LodgeThe Ranch Girls’ Pot of GoldThe Ranch Girls at Boarding SchoolThe Ranch Girls in EuropeThe Ranch Girls at Home AgainThe Ranch Girls and their Great AdventureTHE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIESThe Red Cross Girls in the British TrenchesThe Red Cross Girls on the French Firing LineThe Red Cross Girls in BelgiumThe Red Cross Girls with the Russian ArmyThe Red Cross Girls with the Italian ArmyThe Red Cross Girls Under the Stars and StripesSTORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLSThe Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise HillThe Camp Fire Girls Amid the SnowsThe Camp Fire Girls in the Outside WorldThe Camp Fire Girls Across the SeaThe Camp Fire Girls’ CareersThe Camp Fire Girls in After YearsThe Camp Fire Girls in the DesertThe Camp Fire Girls at the End of The Trail
BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES
The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge
The Ranch Girls’ Pot of Gold
The Ranch Girls at Boarding School
The Ranch Girls in Europe
The Ranch Girls at Home Again
The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure
THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES
The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches
The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line
The Red Cross Girls in Belgium
The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army
The Red Cross Girls with the Italian Army
The Red Cross Girls Under the Stars and Stripes
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill
The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows
The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World
The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea
The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years
The Camp Fire Girls in the Desert
The Camp Fire Girls at the End of The Trail
Inside front cover