interlude(玛丽罗茨莱因哈特惊人的幕间表演)-第50节
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disheartened； wet through。 They needed her； she felt。 Even the little she
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
could do would help。 All day she had made soup； and at evening Marie led
from its dilapidated stable the little horse that Henri had once brought up；
trundling its cart behind it。 The boiler of the cart was scoured； a fire
lighted in the fire box。 Marie； a country girl； harnessed the shaggy little
animal； but with tears of terror。
〃You will be killed； mademoiselle；〃 she protested； weeping。
〃But I haxe gone before。 Don't you remember the man whose wife was
English； and how I wrote a letter for him before he died？〃
〃What will become of the house if you are killed？〃
〃Dear Marie；〃 said Sara Lee； 〃that is all arranged for。 You will send to
Poperinghe for your aunt； and she will come until Mrs。 Cameron or some
one else can come from England。 And you will stay on。 Will you promise
that？〃
Marie promised in a loud wail。
〃Of course I shall come back；〃 Sara Lee said； stirring her soup
preparatory to pouring it out。 〃I shall be very carefuL〃
〃You will not come back； mademoiselle。 You do not care to live； and
to such …〃
〃Those are the ones who live on；〃 said Sara Lee gravely； and poured
out her soup。
She went quite alone。 There was a great deal of noise； but no shells fell
near her。 She led the little horse by its head； and its presence gave her
comfort。 It had a sense that she had not； too； for it kept her on the road。
In those still early days the Belgian trenches were quite accessible
from the rear。 There were no long tunneled ways to traverse to reach them。
One went along through the darkness until the sound of men's voices； the
glare of charcoal in a bucket bored with holes； the flicker of a match； told
of the buried army almost underfoot or huddled in its flimsy shelters
behind the railway embankment。
Beyond the lines a sentry stopped her； hailing her sharply。
〃Qui vive？〃
〃It is I；〃 she called through the rain。 〃I have brought some chocolate
and some soup。〃
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
He lowered his bayonet。
〃Pass； mademoiselle。〃
She went on； the rumbling of her little cart dead ened by the Belgian
guns。
Through the near…by trenches that night went the word that near the
Repose of the Angels … which was but a hole in the ground and scarcely
reposeful … there was to be had hot soup and chocolate and cigarettes。 A
dozen or so at a time； the men were allowed to come。 Officers brought
their great capes to keep the girl dry。 Boards appeared as if by magic for
her to stand on。 The rain and the bombardment had both ceased； and a full
moon made the lagoon across the embankment into a silver lake。
When the last soup had been dipped from the tall boiler； when the final
drops of chocolate had oozed from the faucet； Sara Lee turned and went
back to the little house again。 But before she went she stood a moment
staring across toward that land of the shadow on the other side； where
Henri had gone and had not returned。
Once； when the King had decorated her； she had wished that； wherever
Uncle James might be； on the other side； he could see what was happening。
And now she wondered if Henri could know that she had come back； and
was again looking after his men while she waited for that reunion he had
so firmly believed in。
Then she led the little horse back along the road。
At the poplar trees she turned and looked behind； toward the trenches。
The grove was but a skeleton now； a strange and jagged thing of twisted
branches； as though it had died in agony。 She stood there while the pony
nuzzled her gently。 If she called； would he come？ But； then； all of life was
one call now； for her。 She went on slowly。
After that it was not unusual for her to go to the trenches； on such
nights as no men could come to the little house。 Always she was joyously
welcomed； and always on her way back she turned to send from the poplar
trees that inarticulate aching call that she had come somehow to believe in。
January； wet and raw； went by； February； colder； with snow； was half
over。 The men had ceased to watch for Henri over the parapet； and his
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
brave deeds had become fireside tales； to be told at home； if ever there
were to be homes again for them。
Then one night Henri came back … came as he had gone； out of the
shadows that had swallowed him up； came without so much as the sound
of a sniper's rifle to herald him。 A strange； thin Henri； close to starvation；
dripping water over everything from a German uniform； and very close
indeed to death before he called out。
There was wild excitement indeed。 Bearded private soldiers； forgetting
that name and rank of his which must not be told； patted his thin shoulders。
Officers who had lived through such horrors as also may not be told；
crowded about him and shook hands with him； and with each other。
It was as though from the graveyard back in the fields had come； alive
and smiling； some dearly beloved friend。
He would have told the story； but he was wet and weary。
〃That can wait；〃 they said； and led him； a motley band of officers and
men intermixed； for once forgetting all decorum； toward the village。 They
overtook the lines of men who had left the trenches and were moving with
their slow and weary gait up the road。 The news spread through the
column。 There were muffled cheers。 Figures stepped out of the darkness
with hands out。 Henri clasped as many as he could。
When with his escort he had passed the men they fell； almost without
orders； into columns of four； and swung in behind him。 There was no band；
but from a thousand throats； yet cautiously until they passed the poplar
trees； there gradually swelled and grew a marching song。
Behind Henri a strange guard of honor … muddy； tired； torn； even
wounded … they marched and sang：
Thou la la； ca ne va guere； Trou la la； ce ne va pas。
Sara Lee； listening for that first shuffle of many feet that sounded so
like the wind in the trees or water over the pebbles of a brook； paused in
her work and lifted her head。 The rhythm of marching feet came through
the wooden shutters。 The very building seemed to vibrate with it。 And
there was a growling sound with it that soon she knew to be the deep
voices of singing men。
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
She went to the door and stood there； looking down the street。 Behind
her was the warm glow of the lamp； all the snug invitation of the little
house。
A group of soldiers had paused in front of the doorway； and from them
one emerged … tall； white； infinitely weary … and looked up at her with
unbelieving eyes。
After all； there are no words for such meetings。 Henri took her hand；
still with that sense of unreality； and bent over it。 And Sara Lee touched
his head as he stooped； because she had called for so long； and only now
he had come。
〃So you have come back！〃 she said in what she hoped was a composed
tone … because a great many people were listening。 He raised his head and
looked at her。
〃It is you who have come back； mademoiselle。〃
There was gayety in the little house that night。 Every candle was
lighted。 They were stuck in rows on mantel…shelves。 They blazed … and
melted into strange arcs … above the kitchen stove。 There were cigarettes
for everybody； and food； and a dry uniform； rather small； for Henri。 Marie
wept over her soup； and ran every few moments to the door to see if he
was still there。 She had kissed him on both cheeks when he came in； and
showed signs； every now and then； of doing it again。
Sara Lee did her bandaging as usual； but with shining eyes。 And soon
after Henri's arrival a dispatch rider set off post haste with certain papers
and maps； hurriedly written and drawn。 Henri had not only returned； he
had brought back information of great value to all the Allied armies。
So Sara Lee bandaged； and in the little room across
