An English nurse took charge of Henri in the hospital, and put him to bed.He was very polite to her, and extremely cynical.She sat in a chair by his bed and held the key of the room in her hand.Once he thought she was Sara Lee, but that was only for a moment.She did not look like Sara Lee.And she was suspicious, too; for when he asked her what she could put in her left hand that she could not put in her right, she moved away and placed the door key on the stand, out of reach.
However, toward morning she dozed.There was steady firing at Nieuport and the windows shook constantly.An ambulance came in, followed by a stirring on the lower floor.Then silence.He got up then and secured the key.There was no time for dressing, because she was a Suspicious person and likely to waken at any time.He rolled his clothing into a bundle and carried it under his well arm.The other was almost useless.
The ambulance was still waiting outside, at the foot of the staircase.There were voices and lights in the operating room, forward along the tiled hall.Still in his night clothing, Henri got into the ambulance and threw his uniform behind him.Then he got the car under way.
Outside the village he paused long enough to dress.His head was amazingly clear.He had never felt so sure of himself before.As to his errand he had no doubt whatever.Jean had learned that he had crossed the channel.Therefore Jean had taken up his work - Jean, who had but one eye and was as clumsy as a bear.The thought of Jean crawling through the German trenches set him laughing until he ended with a sob.
It was rather odd about the ambulance.It did not keep the road very well.Sometimes it was on one side and sometimes on the other.It slid as though the road were greased.And after a time Henri made an amazing discovery.He was not alone in the car.
He looked back, without stopping, and the machine went off in a wide arc.He brought it back again, grinning.
"Thought you had me, didn't you?" he observed to the car in general, and the engine in particular."Now no tricks!"There was a wounded man in the car.He had had morphia and he was very comfortable.He was not badly hurt, and he considered that he was being taken to Calais.He was too tired to talk, and the swinging of the car rather interested him.He would doze and waken and doze again.But at last he heard something that made him rise on his elbow.
It was the hammering of the big guns.
He called Henri's attention to this, but Henri said: "Lie down, Jean, and don't talk.We'll make it yet."The wounded man intended to make a protest, but he went to sleep instead.
They had reached the village now where was the little house of mercy.The ambulance rolled and leaped down the street, with both lights full on, which was forbidden, and came to a stop at the door.The man inside was grunting then, and Henri, whose head had never been so clear, got out and went round to the rear of the car.
"Now, out with you, comrade!" he said."I have made an error, but it is immaterial.Can you walk?"He lighted a cigarette, and the man inside saw his burning eyes and shaking hands.Even through the apathy of the morphia he felt a thrill of terror.He could walk.He got out while Henri pounded at the door.
Attention!" he called."Attention!" Then he hummed an air of the camps:
Trou la la, ca ne va guere;Trou la la, ca ne va pas.
When he heard steps inside Henri went back to the ambulance.He got in and drove it, lights and all, down the street.
Trou la la, ca ne va guere;Trou la la, ca ne va pas.
Somewhere down the road beyond the poplar trees he abandoned the ambulance.They found it there the next morning, or rather what was left of it.Evidently its two unwinking eyes had got on the Germans' nerves.
Early the next morning a Saxon regiment, standing on the firing step ready for what the dawn might bring forth, watched the mist rise from thewater in front of them.It shone on a body in a Belgian uniform, lying across their wire, and very close indeed.
Now the Saxons are not Prussians, so no one for sport fired at the body.Which was rather a good thing, because it moved slightly and stirred.And then in a loud voice, which is an unusual thing for bodies to possess, it began to sing:
Trou la la, ca ne va guere;Thou la la, ca ne va pas.
XXVIII
Late in August Sara Lee broke her engagement with Harvey.She had been away, at Cousin Jennie's, for a month, and for the first time since her return she had had time to think.In the little suburban town there were long hours of quiet when Cousin Jennie mended on the porch and Aunt Harriet, enjoying a sort of reflected glory from Sara Lee, presided at Red Cross meetings.
Sara Lee decided to send for Harvey, and he came for a week-end, arriving pathetically eager, but with a sort of defiance too.He was determined to hold her, but to hold her on his own terms.
Aunt Harriet had been vaguely uneasy, but Harvey's arrival seemed to put everything right.She even kissed him when he came, and took great pains to carry off Cousin Jennie when she showed an inclination toward conversation and a seat on the porch.
Sara Lee had made a desperate resolve.She intended to lay all her cards on the table.He should know all that there was to know.If, after that, he still wanted to hold her - but she did not go so far.She was so sure he would release her.
It was a despairing thing to do, but she was rather despairing those days.There had been no letter from Henri or from Jean.She had written them both several times, to Dunkirk, to the Savoy in London, to the little house near the Front.But no replies had come.Yet mail was going through.Mabel Andrews' letters from Boulogne came regularly.
