"Pardon, madame?"
"What are you doing here?"
"We are left behind from the Fourth Army which has gone up to Germany. I
have no tools or I would make one car out of four. But my men are
discouraged and no one works. The war is over.
"Then this is a park?"
"No, madame, it is a cemetery."
Months went by, and there came a night, as wet and sad as any other,
when no premonitory star showed in the sky, and all that was bright in
Fanny's spirit toned itself to match the monotonous, shadowless pallor
about her.
She was upon her homeward journey. At the entrance to the hut she
paused; for such a light was burning in the sitting-room that it
travelled even the dark corridor and wandered out upon the step. By it
she could see the beaded moisture of the rain-mist upon the long hair
escaped from her cap.
A group of women stood within, their faces turned towards the door as
she entered.
"Fanny...."
"What is it?"
"We are going to Metz! We are ordered to Metz!" Stewart waved a letter.
Was poverty and solitude at an end? They did not know it. In leaving the
Meuse district did they leave, too, the boundless rain, the swollen
rivers, the shining swamps, the mud which ebbed and flowed upon the land
like a tide? Was hunger at an end, discomfort, and poor living? They had
no inkling.
Fanny, indifferent to any change, hoping for nothing better, turned
first to the meat tin, for she was hungry.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33