interlude(玛丽罗茨莱因哈特惊人的幕间表演)-第20节
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of tired men； leaving their trenches under cover of darkness。 Henri threw
his military cape over her shoulders and she stood in the dark doorway；
watching。
The empty street was no longer empty。 From gutter to gutter flowed a
stream of men； like a sluggish river which narrowed where a fallen house
partly filled the way； not talking； not singing； just moving； bent under their
heavy and mud…covered equipment。 Here and there the clack of wooden
sabots on the cobbles told of one poor fellow not outfitted with leather
shoes。 The light of a match here and there showed some few lucky enough
to have still remaining cigarettes； and revealed also； in the immediate
vicinity； a white bandage or two。 Some few； recognizing Henri's officer's
cap； saluted。 Most of them stumbled on； too weary to so much as glance
aside。
Nothing that Sara Lee had dreamed of war was like this。 This was
dreary and sodden and hopeless。 Those fresh troops at the crossroads that
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day had been blithe and smiling。 There had been none of the glitter and
panoply of war； but there had been movement； the beating of a drum； the
sharp cries of officers as the lines re…formed。
Here there were no lines。 Just such a stream of men as at home might
issue at night from a coal mine； too weary for speech。 Only here they were
packed together closely； and they did not speak； and some of them were
wounded。
〃There are so many！〃 she whispered to Henri。 〃A hundred such efforts
as mine would not be enough。〃
〃I would to God there were more！〃 Henri replied； through shut teeth。
〃Listen； mademoiselle；〃 he said later。 〃You cannot do all the kind work
of the world。 But you can do your part。 And you will start by caring for
only such as are wounded or ill。 The others can go on。 But every night
some twenty or thirty； or even more； will come to your door … men slightly
wounded or too weary to go on without a rest。 And for those there will be
a chair by the fire； and something hot； or perhapps a clean bandage。 It
sounds small？ But in a month； think！ You will have given comfort to
perhaps a thousand men。 You … alone！〃
〃I … alone！〃 she said in a queer choking voice。 〃And what about you？ It
is you who have made it possible。〃
But Henri was looking down the street to where the row of poplars hid
what lay beyond。 Far beyond a star shell had risen above the flat fields and
floated there； a pure and lovely thing； shedding its white light over the
terrain below。 It gleamed for some thirty seconds and went out。
〃Like that！〃 Henri said to her； but in French。 〃Like that you are to me。
Bright and shining … and so soon gone。〃
Sara Lee thought he had asked her if she was cold。
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
CHAPTER XI
The girl was singularly adaptable。 In a few days it was as though she
had been for years in her little ruined house。 She was very happy； though
there was scarcely a day when her heart was not wrung。 Such young…old
faces！ Such weary men！ And such tales of wretchedness！
She got the tales by intuition rather than by words； though she was
picking up some French at that。 Marie would weep openly； at times。 The
most frequent story was of no news from the country held by the Germans；
of families left with nothing and probably starving。 The first inquiry was
always for news。 Had the American lady any way to make inquiry？
In time Sara Lee began to take notes of names and addresses； and
through Mr。 Travers； in London； and the Relief Commission； in Belgium；
bits of information came back。 A certain family was in England at a village
in Surrey。 Of another a child had died。 Here was one that could not be
located； and another reported massacred during the invasion。
Later on Sara Lee was to find her little house growing famous；
besieged by anxious soldiers who besought her efforts； so that she used
enormous numbers of stamps and a great deal of effort。 But that was later
on。 And when that time came she turned to the work as a refuge from her
thoughts。 For days were coming when Sara Lee did not want to think。
But like all big things the little house made a humble beginning。 A
mere handful of men； daring the gibes of their comrades； stopped in that
first night the door stood open； with its invitation of firelight and candles。
But these few went away with a strange story … of a beautiful American；
and hot soup； and even a cigarette apiece。 That had been Henri's
contribution； the cigarettes。 And soon the fame of the little house went up
and down the trenches； and it was like to die of overpopularity。
It was at night that the little house of mercy bloomed like a flower。
During the daytime it was quiet； and it was then； as time went on； that Sara
Lee wrote her letters home and to England； and sent her lists of names to
be investigated。 But from the beginning there was much to do。 Vegetables
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
were to be prepared for the soup； Marie must find and bring in milk for the
chocolate； Rene must lay aside his rifle and chop firewood。
One worry； however； disappeared with the days。 Henri was proving a
clever buyer。 The money she sent in secured marvels。 Only Jean knew； or
ever knew； just how much of Henri's steadily decreasing funds went to that
buying。 Certainly not Sara Lee。 And Jean expostulated only once … to be
met by such blazing fury as set him sullen for two days。
〃I am doing this；〃 Henri finished； a trifle ashamed of himself； 〃not for
mademoiselle； but for our army。 And since when have you felt that the
best we can give is too much for such a purpose？〃
Which was； however lofty； only a part of the truth。
So supplies came in plentifully； and Sara Lee pared vegetables and
sang a bit under her breath； and glowed with good will when at night the
weary vanguard of a weary little army stopped at her door and scraped the
mud off its boots and edged in shyly。
She was very happy； and her soup was growing famous。 It is true that
the beef she used was not often beef； but she did not know that； and
merely complained that the meat was stringy。 Now and then there was no
beef at all； and she used hares instead。 On quiet days； when there was little
firing beyond the poplar trees； she went about with a basket through the
neglected winter gardens of the town。 There were Brussels sprouts； and
sometimes she found in a cellar carrots or cabbages。 She had potatoes
always。
It was at night then； from seven in the evening until one； that the； little
house was busiest。 Word had gone out through the trenches beyond the
poplar trees that slightly wounded men needing rest before walking back
to their billets； exhausted and sick men； were welcome to the little house。
It was soon necessary to give the officers tickets for the men。 Rene took
them in at the door； with his rifle in the hollow of his arm； and he was as
implacable as a ticket taker at the opera。 Never once in all the months of
her life there did Sara Lee have an ugly word； an offensive glance。 But；
though she never knew this； many half articulate and wholly earnest
prayers were offered for her in those little churches behind the lines where
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sometimes the men slept； and often they prayed。
She was very businesslike。 She sent home to the Ladies' Aid Society a
weekly record of what had been done： So many bowls of soup； so many
cups of chocolate； so many minor injuries dressed。 Because； very soon；
she found first aid added to her activities。 She sickened somewhat at first。
Later she allowed to Marie much of the serving of food； and in the little
salle manger she had ready on the table basins； water； cotton； iodine and
bandages。
Henri explained the method to her。
〃It is a matter of cleanliness；〃 he said。 〃First one washes the wound
and then there is the iodine。 Then cotton； a bandage； and … a surgeon could
do little more。〃
Henri and Jean came often。 And more than once during the first ten
days Jean spent the night rolled in a b
