"Take anything," she said, with a shrug, to Fanny. "See what
you can make from it. If you can make one room habitable from this
dust-heap, you are welcome. See, there is at least a saucepan. Take
that. So much has gone from the house in these last years it seems
hardly worth while to retain a saucepan for the owner."
"Who is the owner?"
"A rich lady who can afford it. The richest family in Charleville. She
has turned _mechante_. She will abuse me when she comes here to see
this--as though _I_ could have saved it. Her husband and her son were
killed. Georges et Phillippe. Georges was killed the first day of the
war, and Phillippe ... I don't know when, but somewhere near here."
"You think she will come back?"
"Sometimes I think it. She has such a sense of property. But her
daughter writes that it would kill her to come. Phillippe was the
sun ... was the good God to her."
"I must go back to my work," said the lieutenant. "Can you be happy here
in this empty house? There will be rats...."
"I can be very happy--and so grateful. I will move my things across
to-day. My companions ... that is to say six more of us arrive in convoy
from Chantilly to-morrow."
"Six more! Had you told me that before ... But what more simple! I can
put them all in here. There is room for twenty."
"Oh...." Her face fell, and she stood aghast.
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