interlude(玛丽罗茨莱因哈特惊人的幕间表演)-第41节
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to her。
〃Please accept it； mademoiselle；〃 he said。 〃With my compliments。〃
They dined together every night； very modestly； sitting in some
crowded restaurant perhaps； but seeing little but each other。 Sara Lee had
bought a new hat in London … black； of course； but faced with white。 He
adored her in it。 He would sit for long moments； his elbows propped on
the table； his blond hair gleaming in the candlelight； and watch her。
〃I wonder；〃 he said once； 〃if you had never met him would you have
loved me？〃
〃I do love you； Henri。〃
〃I don't want that sort of love。〃 And he had turned his head away。
But one evening he called for her at Morley's； a white and crushed boy；
needing all that she could give him and much more。 He came as a man
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goes to the woman he loves when he is in trouble； much as a child to his
mother。 Sara Lee； coming down to the reception room； found him alone
there； walking rapidly up and down。 He turned desperate eyes on her。
〃I have brought bad news；〃 he said abruptly。
〃The little house …〃
〃I do not know。 I ran away； mademoiselle。 I am a traitor。 And the
Germans broke through last night。〃
〃Henri！〃
〃They broke through We were not ready。 That is what I have done。〃
〃Don't you think；〃 Sara Lee said in a frozen voice； 〃that is what I have
done？ I let you come。〃
〃You？ You are taking the blame？ Mademoiselle； I have enough to bear
without that。〃
He explained further； still standing in his rigid attitude。 If he had been
white before at times he was ghastly now。 It had not been an attack in
force。 A small number had got across and had penetrated beyond the
railway line。 There had been hand…to…hand fighting in the road beyond the
poplars。 But it looked more like an experiment； an endeavor to discover
the possibility of a real advance through the inundation； or perhaps a feint
to cover operations elsewhere。
〃For every life lost I am responsible；〃 he ended in a flat and lifeless
tone。
〃But you might not have known；〃 she protested wildly。 〃Even if you
had been there； Henri； you might not have known。〃 She knew something
of war by that time。 〃How could you have told that a small movement of
troops was to take place？〃
〃I should have been there。〃
〃But … if they came without warning？〃
〃I did not tell you；〃 he said； looking away from her。 〃There had been a
warning。 I disregarded it。〃
He went back to Belgium that night。 Sara Lee； at the last； held out her
hand。 She was terrified for him； and she showed it。
〃I shall not touch your hand；〃 he said。 〃I have forfeited my right to do
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
that。〃 Then； seeing what was in her face； he reassured her。 〃I shall not do
that；〃 he said。 〃It would be easier。 But I shall have to go back and see what
can be done。〃
He was the old Henri to the last； however。 He went carefully over her
steamship ticket； and inquired with equal care into the amount of money
she had。
〃It will take you home？〃 he asked。
〃Very comfortably； Henri。〃
〃It seems very little。〃
Then he said； apropos of nothing： 〃Poor Jean！〃
When he left her at last he went to the door； very erect and soldierly。
But he turned there and stood for a moment looking at her； as though
through all that was coming he must have with him； to give him strength；
that final picture of her。
The elderly chambermaid； coming into Sara Lee's room the next
morning； found her fully dressed in the frock she had worn the night
before； face down on her bed。
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
CHAPTER XXIV
It was early in June when at last the lights went down behind the back
drop and came up in front； to show Sara Lee knitting again； though not by
the fire。 The amazing interlude was over。
Over； except in Sara Lee's heart。 The voyage had been a nightmare。
She had been ill for one thing … a combination of seasickness and
heartsickness。 She had allowed Henri to come to England with her； and the
Germans had broken through。 All the good she had done … and she had
helped … was nothing to this mischief she had wrought。
It had been a small raid。 She gathered that from the papers on board。
But that was not the vital thing。 What mattered was that she had let a man
forget his duty to his country in his solicitude for her。
But as the days went on the excitement of her return dulled the edge of
her misery somewhat。 The thing was done。 She could do only one thing to
help。 She would never go back； never again bring trouble and suffering
where she had meant only to bring aid and comfort。
She had a faint hope that Harvey would meet her at the pier。 She
needed comforting and soothing； and perhaps a bit of praise。 She was so
very tired； depressed； too； if the truth be known。 She needed a hand to lead
her back to her old place on the stage； and kind faces to make her forget
that she had ever gone away。
Because that was what she had to do。 She must forget Henri and the
little house on the road to the poplar trees； and most of all； she must forget
that because of her Henri had let the Germans through。
But Harvey did not meet her。 There was a telegram saying he would
meet her train if she wired when she was leaving … an exultant message
breathing forgiveness and signed 〃with much love。〃 She flushed when she
read it。
Of course he could not meet her in New York。 This was not the
Continent in wartime； where convention had died of a great necessity。 And
he was not angry； after all。 A great wave of relief swept over her。 But it
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was odd how helpless she felt。 Since her arrival in England months before
there had always been Henri to look after things for her。 It was incredible
to recall how little she had done for herself。
Was she glad to be back？ She did not ask herself。 It was as though the
voyage had automatically detached her from that other Sara Lee of the
little house。 That was behind her； a dream … a mirage … or a memory。 Here；
a trifle confused by the bustle； was once again the Sara Lee who had
knitted for Anna； and tended the plants in the dining…room window； and
watched Uncle James slowly lowered into his quiet grave。
Part of her detachment was voluntary。 She could not bear to remember。
She had but to close her eyes to see Henri's tragic face that last night at
Morley's。 And part of the detachment was because； after all； the interlude
had been but a matter of months； and reaching out familiar hands to her
were the habits and customs and surroundings of all the earlier years of
her life； drawing her back to them。
It was strange how Henri's face haunted her。 She could close her eyes
and see it； line by line； his very swagger … for he did swagger； just a little；
his tall figure and unruly hair； his long； narrow； muscular hands。 Strange
and rather uncomfortable。 Because she could not summon Harvey's image
at all。 She tried to bring before her； that night in the train speeding west；
his solid figure and kind eyes as they would greet her the next day … tried；
and failed。 All she got was the profile of the photograph； and the stubborn
angle of the jaw。
She was up very early the next morning； and it was then； as the train
rolled through familiar country； that she began to find Harvey again。 A
flush of tenderness warmed her。 She must be very kind to him because of
all that he had suffered。
The train came to a stop。 Rather breathless Sara Lee went out on the
platform。 Harvey was there； in the crowd。 He did not see her at first。 He
was looking toward the front of the train。 So her first glimpse of him was
the view of the photograph。 His hat was off； and his hair； carefully brushed
back； gave him the eager look of the picture。
He was a strong and manly figure； as unlike Henri as an oak is unlike
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one of Henri's own tall and swaying poplars。 Sara Lee drew a long breath。
Here after all were rest and peace； love and gentleness； quiet days and still
evenings。 No more crowds and wounds and weary men； no mo
