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IRile^, 

48 

<Iambrt^gc 
IRoaD, 
Soutbport 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


THE 

RED  CROSS  BARGE 


BY 

MRS.    BELLOC    LOWNDES 

AUTHOR  OF  'THh.  CHINK  IN  THE  ARMOUR,'  'THE  LODGER,' 
'  GOOD  OLD  ANNA,'  ETC. 


LONDON 

SMITH,    ELDER   &    CO. 

15  WATERLOO   PLACE 
1916 

\A  II  rights   rtstrwtd] 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


PART  I 


The    Herr    Doktor    moved    away    his    chair 
from  the  large    round    table    across  half   of 
which,  amid  the  remains  of  a  delicious  dessert 
a  large-scale  map  of  the  surrounding  French 
countryside  had  been  spread  out. 

On  the  other  half  of  the  table  had  been 
pushed  a  confusion  of  delicate  white-and-gold 
coffee-cups  and  almost  empty  liqueur-bottles 
— signs  of  the  pleasant  ending  to  the  best 
dinner  the  five  young  Uhlan  officers  who 
were  now  gathered  together  in  this  French 
inn-parlour  had  eaten  since  '  The  Day.' 

Although  the  setting  sun  still  threw  a 
warm,  lambent  light  on  the  high  chestnut 
trees    in    the    paved    courtyard   outside,    the 


2  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

low-walled  room  was  already  beginning  to 
be  filled  with  the  pale  golden  shadows  of 
an  August  night.  A  few  moments  ago  the 
Herr  Commandant  had  loudly  called  for  a 
lamp,  and  Madame  Blanc,  owner  of  the 
Tournebride,  had  herself  brought  it  in. 
Placed  in  the  centre  of  the  table  the  lamp 
illumined  the  flushed,  merry  young  faces 
now  bent  over  the  large  coloured  map. 

Alone  the  Herr  Doktor  sat  apart  from 
the  bright  circle  of  light,  and,  although  he 
was  himself  smoking  a  pipe,  the  fumes  of 
the  other  men's  strong  cigars  seemed  to 
stifle  him. 

Of  only  medium  height,  with  the  thought- 
ful, serious  face  which  marks  the  thinker 
and  worker  ;  clad,  too,  in  the  plain,  practical 
'  feld-grau  '  uniform  of  a  German  Red  Cross 
surgeon,  he  was  quite  unlike  his  temporary 
comrades.  And  there  was  a  further  reason 
for  this  unlikeness.  The  Herr  Doktor,  Max 
Keller  by  name,  was  from  Weimar  ;  the  young 
officers  now  round  him  were  Prussians  of  the 
Junker  class.  They  were  quite  civil  to  the 
Herr  Doktor — in  fact  they  were  too  civil 
— and    their     high     spirits,    their    constant, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  3 

exultant  boasts  of  all  they  meant  to  do  in 
Paris — in  Paris  where  they  expected  to  be 
within  a  week,  for  it  was  now  August  27, 
1914 — jarred  on  his  tired,  sensitive  brain. 

Behind  his  large  tortoise-shell  spectacles 
the  Herr  Doktor's  eyes  ached  and  smarted. 
He  belonged  to  the  generation  which  had 
been,  even  as  children,  put  into  spectacles. 
His  present  companions,  more  fortunate  than 
he,  had  been  born  into  the  '  nature-eye  * 
cycle  of  German  oculistic  research.  Not 
one  of  them  wore  spectacles,  and  their 
exemption  was  one  of  the  many  reasons  why 
he,  though  only  thirty-four  years  of  age, 
felt  so  much  older,  and  so  apart  from  them 
in  every  way. 

Alone,  of  the  six  men  gathered  together 
to-night  in  that  French  inn-parlour,  the  Herr 
Doktor  knew  what  war  really  means,  and 
something — as  yet  he  did  not  know  much — 
of  what  it  brings  with  it.  He  had  been,  if 
not  exactly  in,  then  what  he  secretly  thought 
far  worse,  close  to,  the  battle  of  Charleroi, 
and  for  the  ten  days  which  had  followed 
that  battle  he  had  been  plunged  in  all  the 
stern    horrors,    and    the    gaspingly    hurried. 


4  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

unceasing    work,     of    an     improvised     field 
hospital. 

The  fine  abounding-with-life  young  officers, 
with  whom  a  special  circumstance  had  thrown 
him  for  some  days,  had  so  far  escaped  even 
a  skirmish  with  the  unfeared  enemy  ;  that 
they  loudly  lamented  the  fact,  that  they 
cursed,  in  all  sincerity,  the  chance  which 
had  delayed  their  regiment  till  the  first 
series  of  victories  —  Mons,  St.  Quentin, 
Charleroi — which  had  opened  the  wide  road 
to  Paris,  was  over,  secretly  irritated  the  Herr 
Doktor.  He  knew  the  limitless  extent  to 
which  they  were  to  be  envied.  And  that 
knowledge  made  him  hopelessly  out  of  touch 
with  them — out  of  touch  as  he  could  never 
be  with  the  arrogant  by-his-mother-spoilt 
lieutenant,  his  Highness  Prince  Egon  von 
Witgenstein,  whose  arrival  in  the  luxurious 
motor  ambulance  now  standing  just  out- 
side in  the  courtyard  of  the  Tournebride 
alone  accounted  for  the  Herr  Doktor's  presence 
here.  It  was  true  that  the  boastful,  childishly 
vain,  fretful-tempered  Prince  Egon  also 
talked  unceasingly  of  the  baser  charms  of 
Paris,^but  he,  at  any  rate,  had  earned  his 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  5 

right  to  those  same  base  charms  by  the  three 
wounds  from  which  he  was  now  slowly 
recovering,  thanks  to  the  skill  and  care  of 
the  Weimar  surgeon. 

Sitting  there,  apart  from  the  others, 
puffing  steadily,  silently,  at  his  pipe,  the 
Herr  Doktor's  mind,  his  dreamy,  sensitive, 
imaginative  mind,  retraced  all  that  had 
happened  in  the  last  two  hours. 

The  taking  possession  of  this  charming 
little  town  of  Valoise-sur-Marne  had  been 
carried  through  with  most  agreeable  ease. 
The  Mayor  had  blustered  a  bit,  and  had 
expressed  his  determination  to  write  an 
account  of  all  that  had  taken  place  to  his 
Government.  But  when  he  had  been  told, 
in  language  of  careful,  cold,  calculated 
brutality,  that  at  the  slightest  disturbance 
or  ill-behaviour  of  his  townsmen  or  towns- 
women,  he  himself  would  be  at  once  led 
out  and  shot,  he  had  come  to  heel,  and 
promised  to  do  his  best  to  preserve  order. 

There  had  been,  however,  a  rather  pain- 
ful scene,  one  which  the  Herr  Doktor  dis- 
liked to  remember,  with  the  parish  priest. 
The    Cure    of    Valoise    was    an    old,  white- 


6  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

haired  man,  and  at  first  he  had  behaved  with 
considerable  dignity — with  far  more  dignity, 
for  instance,  than  the  excitable  Mayor. 
Also  he  had  expressed  himself  as  quite 
willing  to  be  hostage  for  his  flock's  good 
behaviour. 

The  scene  had  occurred  when  the  priest 
had  been  ordered  off  with  the  guard  to  the 
temporary  prison  he  was  to  share  with  the 
Mayor.  With  what  had  seemed  a  most  un- 
called-for agitation,  he  had  pleaded  to  be 
allowed  to  go  and  pay  a  last  visit  to  three 
dying  men.  '  Surely  you  will  accept  my 
word  of  honour  to  return  within  one  hour  ? ' 
he  had  exclaimed,  and  then,  in  answer  to  a 
natural,  if  sharply  uttered  question  — '  No, 
I  cannot — I  will  not — tell  you  where  these 
dying  men  are  !  All  I  can  say  is  that  they 
are  well  within  the  limits  of  the  town.'  To 
accede  to  his  request  had  been,  of  course,  out 
of  the  question  ;  and  to  the  Herr  Doktor's 
surprise,  and  indeed  to  his  disgust,  it  was 
plain  that  the  German  Commandant's  refusal 
to  let  the  old  priest  have  his  way  had  gratified 
the  Mayor — indeed  the  only  smile  any  of  them 
had  seen  on  the  French  Republican  official's 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  7 

face  was  while   this   discussion,   this    urgent 
painful  discussion,  was  going  on. 

After  it  was  over,  the  two  of  them  had 
been  marched  off  to  the  Tournebride,  where 
a  large  windowless  fruit  and  tool  house, 
standing  isolated  in  the  middle  of  Madame 
Blanc's  kitchen  garden,  had  been  assigned 
to  them  as  prison. 

Everything  else  had  gone  quite  smoothly, 
and  both  officers  and  men  had  found  delight- 
ful quarters  in  the  fine  old  inn  which  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  hill,  taking  up  all  one  side 
of  the  Grande  Place.  The  Tournebride,  so 
the  Commandant  informed  the  Herr  Doktor, 
had  been  noted  among  gay  Parisians,  in  the 
days  of  peace  which  now  seemed  so  long 
ago,  as  a  motoring  luncheon  and  supper 
resort.  Thus  the  conquerors  of  Valoise  had 
found  there  the  best  of  good  wine,  good 
food,  and  good  beds. 


At  last  the  Herr  Doktor  got  up  from 
his  chair.  Unnoticed  by  the  others,  he 
slipped  out  into  the  cooler  air  outside.     The 


8  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

courtyard,  shaded  by  high  horse  chestnut 
trees,  was  now  crowded  with  good-humoured 
German  cavalry-men  waiting,  patiently 
enough,  for  the  savoury  meal  which  Madame 
Blanc  and  her  two  anxious-faced  young 
daughters  were  engaged  in  preparing  for 
them. 

As  the  Herr  Doktor  walked  quickly  over 
to  the  other  side  of  the  quadrangle,  the 
soldiers  respectfully  made  way  for  him,  and 
he  stood,  for  a  few  moments  unnoticed,  on 
the  threshold  of  the  big  kitchen  of  the  Tourne- 
bride.  To  eyes  already  war-worn  it  was  a 
pleasant  sight. 

To  and  fro  in  her  low,  arch-roofed,  spacious 
domain,  the  landlady  came  and  went,  busily 
intent  on  her  considerable  task  of  feeding 
over  a  hundred  men.  There  were  huge 
copper  cauldrons  on  the  steel  top  of  the 
fourneau,  and  Madame  Blanc  herself  con- 
stantly stirred  and  inspected  their  contents. 
But  when  she  became  suddenly  aware  of 
the  German  doctor's  presence  at  the  kitchen 
door,  she  stayed  her  labours  and  came  towards 
him. 

Silently  she  waited,  a  stern  look  of  heavy- 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  9 

hearted  endurance  on  her  face,  for  him  to 
speak  ;  and  at  last,  in  a  French  which  was 
somewhat  halting,  he  put  the  q.uestion  he  had 
come  to  ask,  and  on  the  answer  to  vvhich, 
as  he  well  knew,  depended  a  good  deal  of 
the  future  comfort  of  his  illustrious,  tiresome 
patient.  Prince  Egon  von  Witgenstein.  Was 
there  a  hospital  in  Valoise  ? 

'  There  is  no  hospital  in  Valoise.'  Madame 
Blanc's  voice  was  very,  very  cold.  But 
after  a  moment's  pause  she  added  :  '  The 
nuns  were  chased  away  four  years  ago,  and 
the  Government  have  not  yet  decided  what 
to  do  with  their  convent.' 

As  there  came  a  look  of  disappointment 
on  his  mild  face  she  went  on,  as  if  the  words 
were  being  dragged  from  her  reluctant  lips  : 
'  But  M.  le  Medecin  will  find  a  Red  Cross 
barge  on  the  river.' 

Madame  Blanc's  powerful,  swarthy  face 
was  set  and  grim  ;  she  did  not  look  as  if 
she  had  ever  smiled,  or  if  she  had,  would 
ever  smile  again.  Yet  the  man  now  standing 
opposite  to  her  remembered  that,  when  he 
had  first  arrived  with  his  patient,  she  had 
shown    a    certain    maternal    interest    in    the 


10  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

inmate  of  the  Red  Cross  motor  ambulance 
which  now  stood  in  a  corner  of  her  large  paved 
courtyard,  also  that  within  a  few  minutes 
of  the  peaceful  assault  of  her  inn  she  had 
herself  cooked  for  the  wounded  officer  a 
delicate  little  meal. 

The  Herr  Doktor  smiled  conciliatingly, 
but  she  gave  him  no  answering  smile.  Her 
heart  was  still  too  full  of  wrath,  of  surprise, 
of  agonised,  impotent  rage,  at  the  happenings 
of  the  last  two  hours. 

A  troop  of  the  abhorred,  dreaded  Uhlans 
had  suddenly  appeared,  clattering  along  the 
wide  Route  Nationale  which  followed  the 
right  bank  of  the  river  Marne.  Without 
drawing  rein  they  had  ridden  up  the  steep, 
central  street  of  Valoise,  and  then  they  had 
turned  straight  into  the  courtyard  of  the 
Tournebride. 

Madame  Blanc  had  been  amazed  at  the 
extent  and  particularity  of  the  Prussians' 
knowledge  of  the  town,  and  of  her  inn. 
Not  only  had  they  greeted  her,  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  joviality  and  sternness, 
by  name,  but  the  golden-haired,  pink-cheeked 
commanding  officer  had  actually  alluded  to 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  ii 

the  specialite  of  the  Tournebride — a  certain 
chicken-liver  omelette  which  Parisians 
motored  out  to  enjoy  on  all  fine  Sundays 
from  each  May  to  each  October  !  And  then, 
perhaps  because  she  had  tacitly  refused  to 
fall  in  with  his  pleasant  humour,  the  young 
Uhlan  officer,  after  his  first  roughly  jovial 
words,  had  suddenly  threatened  her  with 
mysterious  and  terrible  penalties  if  she  dis- 
obeyed, in  any  one  particular,  his  own  and 
his  comrades'  confusing  orders. 

Yes,  they  had  only  arrived  two  hours 
ago,  and  yet  already  Madame  Blanc  hated 
these  arrogant  Uhlan  officers  with  all  the 
strength  of  her  powerful,  secretive  French 
nature.  Quite  willingly,  had  she  thought 
it  would  have  served  the  slightest  good 
purpose,  would  she  have  put  a  good  dose 
of  poison  in  the  excellent  soup  they,  in  the 
company  of  the  man  now  talking  to  her, 
had  just  eaten. 

She  also  hated,  but  in  an  infinitely  lesser 
degree,  their  men  —  those  big,  bearded, 
splendidly  equipped  soldiers  clad  in  the 
grey-green  cloth  which  her  strong  common 
sense  had  at  once  told  her  must  be  so  far 


12  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

more  serviceable,  because  blending  with 
nature's  colouring,  than  the  bright  blue  and 
red  uniforms  of  her  own  countrymen.  But 
for  the  wounded  youth,  who  now  lay  straight 
and  still  in  the  huge  grey  motor-car,  bearing 
on  its  side  a  painted  Red  Cross  which  she 
could  almost  touch  from  where  she  stood  at 
her  low  kitchen  door,  she  felt  a  thrill  of 
motherly  pity  and  concern.  .  .  . 

'  A  Red  Cross  barge  on  the  river  ?  ' 
repeated  the  Herr  Doktor  doubtfully. 

For  a  man  who  had  never  been  in  France 
before,  and  who  had  been  taught  French 
by  a  German  who,  in  his  turn,  had  never 
been  in  France  save  during  the  brief,  glorious- 
and-ever-victorious-campaign  of  1870,  the 
Herr  Doktor  spoke  very  fair  French.  But 
while  he  spoke,  and  even  more  while  he 
listened  to  Madame  Blanc's  quick,  short 
utterances,  he  blamed  himself  severely  for 
having  wasted  so  much  time  on  the  English 
language.  English  was  now  never  likely  to 
be  of  much  use  to  him,  save  perhaps  during 
the  coming  Occupation  of  London.  If  only 
he  had  spent  as  much  time  and  trouble 
over   French  as  he  had  done  over  English, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  13 

not  only  would  it  have  been  useful  here  and 
now,  but  it  would  have  been  invaluable  a 
little  later  on — when  he  took  up  his  quarters, 
as  he  hoped  to  do  within  the  next  two  or 
three  weeks,  at  the  Pasteur  Institute  in  Paris. 

'  Yes,'  said  Madame  Blanc,  with  a  touch 
of  irritation  in  her  even,  vibrating  voice, 
'  as  I  have  just  had  the  honour  of  explaining 
to  M.  le  Medecin,  there  is  a  Red  Cross  barge 
on  our  river.  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  is 
there  all  day,  from  six  in  the  morning  till 
nine  o'clock  each  night.' 

'  Is  Mademoiselle '  —  he  had  not  really 
caught  the  curious  name,  '  is  she '  —  he 
hesitated  for  the  right  phrase — '  is  she  a 
Sister  of  Compassion  ? ' 

'  I  have  just  told  M.  le  Medecin  that  all 
our  good  sisters  were  chased  away  by  the 
Government  four  years  ago.  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  is  our  doctor's  daughter.' 

And  then,  as  the  man  standing  before 
her  uttered  a  quick  guttural  exclamation  of 
relief,  she  added  sharply,  '  You  cannot  see 
Doctor  Rouannes,  for  he  is  very  ill — some 
say  he  is  dying.'  As  again  she  saw  a  look  of 
disappointment  overcast  his  face,  she  added — 


14  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  But  his  daughter  is  a  very  serious  demoiselle. 
The  wounded  have  every  confidence  in 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes.' 

*  Thank  you,  Madame,  I  will  now  the 
barge  of  the  Red  Cross  go  and  seek,'  he  said, 
and  bowed  courteously. 

'  It  is  just  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  this 
side  of  the  lock.  But  wait  a  minute — I  can 
show  you  the  exact  place  from  the  abreuvoirJ 

She  stepped  across  the  threshold  of  her 
kitchen,  and  walked,  with  a  good  deal  of 
simple  dignity,  through  the  groups  of  tall 
soldiers  who  stood  at  ease,  contentedly 
smoking  their  big  pipes  under  the  chestnut- 
leaves  canopy  of  her  courtyard.  They  made 
way  for  her  pleasantly  enough — some  even 
smiled  the  foolish,  fond  smile  of  the  big 
man-child,  for  she  reminded  more  than  one 
of  these  burly  giants  of  his  own  mother. 
But  Madame  Blanc  gave  no  answering  smile, 
as,  gazing  straight  before  her,  she  hurried 
on  towards  the  high  gilt  gates  of  her  domain — 
a  domain  which  till  a  hundred  years  ago, 
and  for  more  than  a  hundred  years  before 
that,  had  kennelled  royal  staghounds,  and 
housed  their  huntsmen. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  15 

The  Herr  Doktor  stopped  for  a  moment 
to  speak  to  a  non-commissioned  officer,  a 
good  fellow  who  came  from  his  own  town  of 
Weimar.  '  Keep  an  eye  on  the  motor 
ambulance,'  he  muttered.  '  You  might,  in 
fact,  go  and  ask  His  Highness  if  he  requires 
anything  further  just  now.  Tell  him  I  have 
gone  out  to  look  for  quiet  quarters.  It  would 
be  impossible  to  have  the  Prince  here  to- 
night ;  the  house  won't  settle  down  for  a 
long  time.' 

The  other  grinned,  broadly.  *  These 
are  comfortable,  greatly-to-be-commended 
quarters,  nevertheless,  Herr  Doktor.'  And 
the  Herr  Doktor,  nodding,  hastened  after 
his  guide. 

He  followed  her  through  the  wrought-iron 
gilt  gates,  now  wreathed  with  white  jessamine 
and  orange-coloured  trumpet  flowers,  and  so 
to  the  great  open  space  which  formed  the 
apex,  not  only  of  the  hill,  but  of  the  little 
town,  of  Valoise-sur-Marne. 

A  moment  later  they  stood  before  the 
oval  abreuvoir,  a  stone-rimmed  pool  at  which 
the  timid  does  sometimes  came,  even  now, 
to  quench  their  thirst  at  night. 


i6  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

For  a  few  moments  Madame  Blanc  gazed 
dumbly  over  the  dear  familiar  scene,  and 
the  German  surgeon  respected  her  silence. 

Lit  by  the  afterglow  of  the  setting  August 
sun,  the  little  town  of  Valoise  lay  spread 
before  them  ...  a  picturesque,  gaily 
charming  cluster  of  white,  grey,  and  red 
roof-trees,  full  of  the  peaceful  stateliness 
of  aspect  which  is  a  distinguishing  mark  of 
so  many  of  the  old  villages  and  towns  set 
amid  chestnut  groves,  and  on  river  banks, 
within  easy  reach  of  Paris. 

From  the  days  of  Henri  IV,  the  Kings  of 
France  had  possessed  a  favourite  hunting 
lodge  on  the  edge  of  the  wooded  uplands 
stretching  behind  the  town,  and  though  the 
Pavilion  du  Roi  had  been  destroyed  during 
the  Revolution,  the  avenue  of  high  forest 
trees  which  had  once  bounded  the  royal 
demesne  still  remained,  faithful  witness  to 
a  vanished  glory,  while  a  fragmentary  survival 
of  what  had  been  a  grandiose  and  splendid 
whole  remained  in  the  stone  abreuvoir. 

And  yet,  as  following  his  companion's 
example,  the  Herr  Doktor  gazed  over  what 
was  in  truth  a  singularly  pleasing  and  soothing 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE       17 

scene,  a  sense  of  chill,  even  of  discomfort, 
crept  over  his  kindly  heart. 

Valoise  looked,  on  this  fine  summer 
evening,  as  might  look  a  place  stricken  with 
the  plague.  Some  melancholy-looking  dogs 
had  been  shut  out  of  doors  :  they,  and  a 
few  cats  who  leapt  furtively  out  of  their 
way,  seemed  the  only  living  things  in  the 
town. 

Why  were  the  French  civilian  population 
so  sullen  ?  The  great,  generous-hearted,  all- 
conquering  German  army  did  not  war  on 
children  and  women — not,  that  is,  so  long 
as  these  women  and  children  behaved  in  a 
reasonable,  civilised  manner. 

The  Herr  Doktor  had  already  heard 
rumours  of  certain  painful,  frightening  things 
which  had  had  to  be  done,  and  which  were 
still  being  done,  in  Belgium.  But  the  French 
were  a  more  civilised  people  than  the  Belgians 
— or  so  the  cultured  Max  Keller  had  persuaded 
himself  to  believe.  Further,  the  Germans 
had  no  real  quarrel  with  the  French,  the 
foolish,  impulsive,  chivalrous  French,  who 
had  allowed  themselves  to  be  dragged  into  a 
quarrel  with  which  they  had  no  concern,  in 


1 8  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

order  to  support  barbarous  Russia  and  lawless, 
savage  Servia  ! 

Standing    by    the    side    of    the    sensible, 
clean  housewife  who  had  just  served  him  so 
admirably  cooked  a   meal,  the  Herr  Doktor 
reflected  complacently  that  very  soon  some 
sort  of  peace  would  be  signed  in  Paris,  after 
which    the     French    and    Germans,     friends 
as  they  had  never   been  before,    would   join 
together    to    break    the    might    of    the    now 
decadent,  nerveless,  and  treacherous  English. 
He  would  have  liked  to  have  expressed 
some   of  this  comfortable,  so-friendly-to-the- 
French    feeling    to    the    woman     who     now 
stood,    her    hands    clenched    together,    as    if 
absorbed  in   painful,   far-away   thoughts,   by 
his  side.     But  he  knew  that  his  French  was 
too  halting  to  convey  these  cultured-and-so- 
humane  and  German  sentiments.     He  started 
slightly  when  Madame  Blanc  suddenly  turned 
to  him  with  the  words,  '  It  is  getting  rather 
too  dark  to  see  the  place  clearly  from  here, 
but  if  M.  le  Medecin  will  go  straight  down 
to  the  river,  and  across  the  wall,  he  will  see 
the  Red  Cross  barge  just  in  front  of  him.' 
Before  he  had   time   to  utter  the    words 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  19 

aloud,  '  Very  truly,  Madame,  do  I  thank 
you,'  she  had  left  his  side,  and  was  half- 
way across  the  Grande  Place,  on  her  way 
towards  the  Tournebride. 

Feeling  a  little  discomfited  by  her  abrupt 
departure,  the  Herr  Doktor  stepped  forward, 
and  started  walking  briskly  down  the  hill. 

How  pleasant  it  was  to  be  alone — alone 
with  his  own  exciting  and,  yes,  glorious 
thoughts  !  The  absence  of  solitude  had  been 
the  thing  which  had  tried  Max  Keller  the 
most  in  this  amazing  -  and  -  ever  -  victorious 
campaign.  During  the  last  three  days  he 
had  found  the  conversation  of  Prince  Egon's 
brother  officers  particularly  wearing,  as  also 
very,  very — he  hardly  knew  what  phrase 
to  use  even  in  his  inmost  mind,  but  at 
last  he  found  it — very-lacking-in-culture-and- 
seriousness. 

The  Paris  of  which  these  Junkers  talked 
incessantly  was  not  the  Paris  to  which  he, 
the  Herr  Doktor,  looked  forward  so  eagerly, 
the  Paris,  for  instance,  of  the  Pasteur  Institute, 
and  of  the  Salpetriere.  The  Paris  of  these 
young  officers — and  he  regretted  indeed  that 
it  was  so — was  the  Paris  which,  as  every  good 


20  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

German  knew,  so  aroused  the  anger  and 
contempt  of  God  as  to  cause  France  to  be 
once  more  crushed  and  humiliated  to  the 
dust.  Of  this  Paris  there  existed  a  very  fair 
imitation  in  what  had  been  euphemistically 
called  '  the  night  life  of  Berlin,'  but  Berlin, 
to  the  Herr  Doktor  at  any  rate,  did  not  stand 
for  his  Fatherland  as  Paris  stands  for  France. 
So  musing,  so  thankful  for  even  a  few 
moments  of  peace  and  solitude,  the  mildest 
of  the  conquerors  of  Valoise  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  hill. 

Across  the  paved  Route  Nationale  was  an 
avenue,  or  mall,  of  lime  trees  which  formed 
a  green  wall  between  the  road  and  the  river. 
He  crossed  the  street  as  he  had  been  directed 
to  do,  and  then,  when  actually  under  the 
dense  arch  formed  by  interlacing  branches 
of  green  leaves,  he  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  relief ;  for  there  before  him,  close  to  the 
entrance  of  the  lock,  and  only  to  be  reached 
by  a  narrow  stone  jetty,  lay  on  the  placid, 
slow-moving  waters  of  the  river  a  broad, 
white  barge,  on  the  side  of  which  was  painted 
a  large  Red  Cross.     The  small,  square,  white 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  21 

curtained  windows  just  above  the  dimpling 
water  line  were  all  open,  and,  set  amidships, 
was  a  round  porthole,  on  whose  edge  stood 
a  pot  of  brilliant  scarlet  geraniums. 

On  the  deck  of  the  barge  stood  a  woman. 
She  wore  the  loose,  unbecoming  white  overall 
which  forms  the  only  uniform  of  a  French 
Red  Cross  nurse,  and  there  was  a  red  cross 
on  her  breast.  From  where  he  stood  the 
German  surgeon  could  see  that  she  was  young, 
straight,  and  lithe.  The  gleams  of  the  sun, 
which  was  now  resting,  like  a  huge  scarlet 
ball,  on  the  horizon,  lit  up  her  fair  hair, 
which  was  massed,  in  the  French  way,  above 
her  forehead.  He  saw  her  in  profile,  for  she 
seemed  to  be  gazing,  through  the  waning 
light,  down  the  river  beyond  the  lock. 

With  a  queer  thrill  at  the  heart  the  Herr 
Doktor  told  himself  that  so  might  Wagner 
have  visioned  his  Elsa  in  war-time.  Since 
the  Herr  Doktor  had  left  Weimar,  he  had 
not  seen  a  so  awakening-to-the-better-feelings 
and  pleasant-to-the-senses-of-man  sight  as 
was  this  French  golden-haired  girl. 

Taking  off  his  cap — for  Max  Keller  was 
aware      that      Frenchwomen    are     curiously 


22  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

punctilious,  and  he  did  not  wish  her  to  suppose 
that  a  cultured  German  could  be  lacking  in 
even  unnecessary  courtesy — he  started  walking 
along  the  narrow  stone  jetty. 

And  then,  when  at  last  he  stood  just 
opposite  to  the  barge,  and  as  suddenly  the 
Red  Cross  nurse  became  aware  of  his  presence, 
he  saw  a  dreadful  look  of  aversion  and  dread 
flash  into  her  face  and  she  turned  and  hastened 
away,  down  what  he  concluded  must  be  a 
stairway  leading  to  the  interior  of  the  barge. 

For  what  seemed  to  him  a  considerable 
time  the  Herr  Doktor  stared  at  the  now 
empty  deck  with  a  feeling  of  sharp  exaspera- 
tion and  disappointment. 

In  the  little  town  where  had  come  that 
awful  rush  of  wounded  after  the  battle  of 
Charleroi  he  had  already  been  in  contact 
with  the  French  Red  Cross.  There  had  been 
several  Frenchwomen — two  countesses,  so  he 
had  been  told,  and  a  duchess — middle-aged 
ladies  who  had  treated  him  with  suave,  if 
distant,  courtesy,  and  who  had  always 
deferred,  most  politely  and  sensibly,  to  his 
professional  knowledge.  In  the  same  hastily 
improvised  Feld-Lazaret  there  had  also  been 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  23 

three  English  nurses  ;  them  he  had  naturally 
disliked,  the  more  so  that  they  had  a  sharp, 
short  way  with  them,  and  always  seemed  to 
disapprove  of  his  methods — methods  which, 
being  German,  were  of  course  in  every  way 
superior-and-more-truly-scientific  than  any- 
thing likely  to  issue  from  the  English  Army 
Medical  Service. 


3 

For  some  time,  perhaps  for  as  long  as 
five  minutes,  the  Herr  Doktor  stood  on  the 
stone  jetty.  He  did  not  like  to  step  down 
upon  the  barge  and  at  once  take  possession 
of  it,  as  it  was  his  undoubted  right,  almost 
his  duty,  to  do.  Also,  though  in  no  way 
a  coward,  his  nerve  had  been  shaken  by  the 
terrible  things  he  had  seen,  and  by  the  long 
fatiguing  hours  of  desperately  hard  work  he 
had  lately  gone  through.  Horrible  stories 
were  whispered  as  to  what  the  French  were 
capable  of  doing  to  an  unarmed  enemy.  The 
inside  of  this  big,  roomy  barge  might  contain 
youths  and  old  men  armed  with  knives  and 
scythes.  .  .  .  Perhaps  his  wisest  course  would 


24  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

be  to  go  up  the  hill  again,  and,  together 
with  his  patient,  return  with  an  armed 
escort  who  would  deal  in  summary  fashion 
with  any  evil-intentioned  inmates  of  the 
Red  Cross  barge. 

While  he  was  thus  hesitating,  there 
suddenly  floated  towards  him  the  stifled 
sounds  of  hurried  whisperings.  They  were 
followed,  a  moment  later,  by  the  lady  of 
the  barge  herself.  But  her  fair  hair  was 
now  almost  entirely  hidden  by  the  severe, 
unbecoming  head-dress  of  a  French  Red 
Cross  nurse  ;  and  the  hard  white  coif  and 
flowing  veil  obscured  the  free,  graceful,  rather 
haughty  poise  of  her  head. 

As  at  last  she  faced  him  squarely,  he 
became  painfully  aware  of  the  mingled  terror 
and  anger  which  made  her  face  turn  from 
white  to  red,  and  filled  her  blue  eyes  with 
a  dreadful  look  of  haunting  fear. 

The  Herr  Doktor  was  well  read  in  the 
great  Romantics  of  the  world,  and  quite 
involuntarily  he  thought  of  Rebecca  and  a 
certain  scene  in  '  Ivanhoe.' 

Just  behind  the  tall,  slender  figure, 
forming  at  once  a  guard  and  an  escort    to 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  25 

the  Red  Cross  nurse,  came  a  short,  sturdy- 
looking,  elderly  woman,  clad  in  a  dark  blue- 
and-white  check  gown,  and  an  old  man, 
dressed  in  a  shabby  black  suit. 

Stepping  forward  alone,  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  stood  close  to  the  plank  which 
connected  the  stone  jetty  with  the  barge, 
and  while  the  Herr  Doktor  was  trying  to 
compose  the  right  form  of  words,  at  once 
firm  and  conciliatory,  with  which  to  address 
her,  she  suddenly  spoke. 

'  How  many  wounded  have  you  ?  '  she 
asked,  in  a  low,  clear  voice.  '  I  must  tell 
you.  Monsieur,  that  we  have  not  room  for 
many  here,  for  we  already  have  eighteen.' 
As  he  remained  silent,  she  went  on,  a  little 
breathlessly,  and  he  saw  that  her  under-lip 
was  quivering,  '  We  have  one  empty  cabin, 
but  it  is  not  very  large  ;  it  will  not  hold 
more  than  six.' 

And  then  at  last  the  Herr  Doktor  found 
the  French  words  he  wanted  with  which  to 
answer  and  to  reassure  her. 

'  I  have  but  one  wounded  man,  gracious 
demoiselle.  It  is  his  Highness  Prince  Egon  von 
Witgenstein.      You  may  of  him  have  heard  ? ' 


26  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  touch  of  scorn, 
and  he  saw  with  relief  that,  for  some  difHcult- 
to-understand  reason,  she  was  now  no  longer 
as  afraid  of  him  as  she  had  been. 

'  Is  he  very  badly  wounded  ?  '  she  asked 
in  the  clear,  grave  voice  which  already 
kindled  his  heart. 

*  He  has  very  badly  wounded  been,  but 
now  on  the  way  to  recovery  is,'  said  the 
Herr  Doktor  decidedly.  He  felt  more  at 
ease  with  this  serious,  beautiful  maiden 
now  that  they  were  discussing  his  patient. 
'  What  the  Prince  requires  rest  and  care 
and  quiet  is.  There  could  not  a  better 
place  for  him  than  your  Red  Cross  barge  be. 
Perhaps  will  you  me  allow  with  your  doctor 
the  arrangements  to  discuss  ?  '  His  eyes 
sought  uncertainly  the  man  in  the  back- 
ground, the  thin,  frightened-looking  old  man 
dressed  in  seedy  black.  Could  this  be  a 
French  physician  ? 

Even  while  speaking  he  had  edged 
cautiously  down  the  plank  footway.  '  Have 
I  your  gracious  permission  to  advance  ?  ' 
he  asked  politely. 

And  she  bent  her  head. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  27 

A  moment  later  he  was  standing  close  to 
her,  gazing  with  an  earnest,  conciliating 
gaze  into  her  sad  blue  eyes.  She  looked  pale 
and  worn,  but  it  was  only  the  transitory 
pallor  and  fatigue  of  youth  unaccustomed 
to  the  strain  of  anxiety,  and  the  wear  of 
work  and  sorrow. 

'  We  have  no  doctor,'  she  said  and,  sighing, 
looked  away.  '  My  father,  who  is  a  doctor, 
would  be  here  were  it  not  that ' — her  voice 
broke  suddenly — '  he  was  terribly  wounded — 
wounded  when  himself  tending  the  wounded  !  ' 

'  Sorry  am  I  to  hear  that  !  '  exclaimed 
the  Herr  Doktor,  and  he  was  indeed  sorry. 
*  But  who  attends  the  eighteen  men  you 
tell  me  you  on  this  barge  have  ?  ' 

'  /  attend  them,'  she  said,  and  a  little 
more  colour  came  into  her  face.  '  I  and 
my  two  friends  whom  you  see  here.  Most 
of  them  were  only  slightly  wounded,  but 
we  have  three  serious  cases.' 

'  Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  visit  them, 
and  see  how  helpful  I  to  your  three  serious 
cases  may  be  ?  '  He  spoke  deferentially, 
and  the  rigid  lines  in  which  her  soft  mouth 
was  set  relaxed. 


28  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

'  I  thank  you,'  she  said  quietly,  '  but  I 
fear  they  are  beyond  your  help.' 

She  turned,  and  preceded  him  down  the 
narrow,  shaftlike  stairway.  It  terminated 
in  a  square  passage  place,  lighted  by  a 
porthole,  on  the  ledge  of  which  stood  the 
pot  of  geraniums  the  Herr  Doktor  had 
noticed  when  standing  under  the  lime  tree 
mall. 

Opening  a  narrow  door  to  her  right,  the 
French  girl  led  him  into  a  large,  low,  cabin- 
room  which  looked  the  larger  and  the  barer 
because  here  too  everything  was  white — 
the  walls,  the  floor,  the  curtains  drawn 
across  each  small  square  window,  and  even 
the  coverlets  of  the  pallet  beds  in  which  lay 
the  eighteen  wounded  men. 

And  as  he  followed  the  young  Red  Cross 
nurse  from  bed  to  bed,  as  he  divined  what 
had  once  been  the  condition  of  most  of  the 
young  soldiers  there,  and  saw  what  it  was 
now,  the  Herr  Doktor  paid  his  guide  a  secret, 
involuntary  tribute  of  respect.  She  had  not 
exaggerated,  as  the  amateur  nurse  so  often 
does,  the  state  of  three  of  her  patients.  The 
German  surgeon  saw  with  concern  that  two 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  29 

out  of  the  three  were  indeed  beyond  his 
help — they  were  even  now  dying. 

'  The  lad  over  there  might  by  skilled 
attention  benefit.  Has  no  doctor  him  seen  ?  ' 
he  asked  abruptly.  He  had  not  raised  his 
voice,  but  his  companion's  hand  shot  out ; 
she  touched  his  arm. 

*  Don't  speak  so  loudly,'  she  whispered, 
'  or  he  will  hear  you.  The  poor  fellow  does 
not  know  how  ill  he  is  !  ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  felt  at  once  a  little 
irritated  and  a  little  moved.  Apparently 
all  Frenchwomen  were  like  that  !  The  only 
time  he  had  had  the  slightest  unpleasantness 
with  one  of  those  French  noblewomen  at 
the  Feld-Lazaret  was  when  he  had  suddenly 
spoken,  in  front  of  a  certain  wounded  boy, 
of  the  fact  that  he  could  not  last  many  hours. 
But  whereas  he  had  felt  very  much  annoyed, 
annoyed  and  angry,  with  the  rebuke  uttered 
so  sharply  by  the  Red  Cross  nurse  on  that 
former  occasion,  this  time  irritation  was 
merged  in  indulgent  amusement.  This  fair- 
haired,  blue-eyed  girl — this  French  Elsa  — 
was  after  all  only  a  novice,  though  a  most 
capable,  conscientious,  hard-working  novice  ! 


30  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

It  was  good  to  know  that  very  soon — 
perhaps  as  soon  as  another  fortnight  or  three 
weeks — the  awful  cloud  of  war  would  be 
lifted  off  beautiful,  prosperous,  frivolous 
France.  She  would  be  conquered  for  her 
own  good,  and  would  of  course  have  to  pay 
in  treasure,  as  she  was  now  paying  in  lives, 
heavily,  for  her  lesson.  But  after  the  coming 
peace  France  would  become,  not  only  a  peace- 
ful, but  what  she  had  never  before  been,  an 
affectionate  neighbour  to  wise,  masculine, 
masterful  Germany.  Already  the  Herr 
Doktor  found  himself  celebrating  the  peace 
with  France  by  planning  a  return  visit  to 
this  charming,  peaceful,  little  town  of  Valoise- 
sur-Marne. 

It  was  a  good  thing  for  him  as  well  as 
for  Jeanne  Rouannes  that,  while  she  busied 
herself  with  the  lighting  of  a  hand  lamp, 
she  had  no  clue  to  his  exultant,  disconnected 
thoughts. 

More  and  more  as  she  accompanied  him 
to  each  bedside,  and  as  he  listened  to  her 
low,  harmonious  voice  explaining  the  various 
cases  of  those  poor  human  wrecks — flotsam 
and    jetsam    of    cruel    war — for    whom    she 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  31 

showed  such  pitiful  concern,  he  felt  the 
surprise  he  had  not  thought  to  feel,  and  the 
admiration  he  was  ready  to  encourage,  grow 
and  grow.  Glad  indeed  was  the  Herr  Doktor 
to  know  that  there  were  certain  things 
which  he  could  do  to  ease  that  last,  losing 
conflict  with  death  now  being  waged  by  two 
of  the  Frenchmen  lying  there  before  him. 
Impulsively  he  turned  to  her — Ah  !  if  only 
he  could  express  himself  adequately  in  her 
difficult,  attractive  language  ! 

And   then   there    came    to    him  a   sudden 
inspiration. 

'  Do  you  speak  English  ?  '  he  asked  in 
the  language  which,  however  much  he  hated 
it  in  theory,  came  yet  so  far  more  easily  to 
his  tongue  than  did  that  of  France. 

In  a  surprised  tone  the  Red  Cross  nurse 
answered,  in  the  same  uncouth  tongue,  with 
the  one  word,  '  Yes.' 

And  then,  as  she  listened  to  his  now 
quick,  clear,  intelligent  explanation  of  what 
might  at  least  bring  the  ease  bred  of  oblivion 
to  her  dying  patients,  the  look  of  anxious, 
almost  agonised,  strain  faded  from  her  blue 
eyes  and  delicately  chiselled  facej    while   as 


32 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


for  the  Herr  Doktor,  he  felt  as  though  they 
two  had  suddenly  glided  into  a  harbour  of 
that  happy,  innocent  No  Man's  Land  where 
the  gigantic  absurdities,  the  incredible  in- 
humanities of  war  had  never  been,  and  never 
could  take  place. 

Only  an  hour  ago  Max  Keller  would 
have  fiercely  denied  that  anything  connected 
with  England  or  with  the  English  could  be 
anything  but  hateful  to  him — yet  how  thank- 
ful was  he  now  for  that  sudden  inspiration  ! 
It  reversed  the  roles,  gave  him  the  advantage, 
and  that  most  agreeably,  of  this  Red  Cross 
nurse,  for  though  he  did  not  speak  English 
nearly  as  correctly  as  did  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes,  he  expressed  himself  more  fluently. 

'  Have  you  ever  to  England  been  ?  '  he 
ventured  at  last. 

She  shook  her  head.  '  No,  but  for  some 
time  I  had  an  English  lady  for  a  governess. 
And  now — now  I  love  England  !  '  She  looked 
at  him  quite  straight  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
felt  a  sudden  sense  of  unease.  It  was  as  if 
the  tide  had  turned.  They  were  drifting 
away  from  that  pleasant  harbour  of  No  Man's 
Land.  .  .  . 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  33 

When  they  had  finished  their  round,  she 
led  him  through  the  little  square  passage 
room  into  the  other  and  smaller  half  of  the 
hold.  This  cabin  was  empty,  save  for  a 
row  of  pallet  beds.  '  Will  this  be  suitable 
for  your  wounded  officer  ?  '  she  asked  him 
gently. 

'  Yes,  very  well  it  will  do,'  he  said  hastily. 

*  And  now  with  your  permission,  gracious 
miss,  my  two  orderlies  I  will  send  for  the 
Prince  to  prepare.' 

*  Cannot  my  servants  make  what  prepara- 
tion is  needed  ?  '  she  asked,  and  there  was  a 
tremor  of  fear  and  of  revolt  in  her  voice. 

*  I  fear  not.  First  these  beds  must  moved 
out  be.  But  do  not  be  afraid — they  will 
great  care  take  you  not  in  any  way  to  trouble. 
Indeed,  you  will  not  here  be,  it  must  now  the 
time  be  when  you  away  go.'  And  as  she 
looked  at  him  in  surprise,  he  added  awkwardly, 

*  The  hostess  of  the  Tournebride — I  think 
Madame  Blanc  her  name  is — told  me  that 
you  the  barge  at  nine  o'clock  always  left.' 

'  When  there  are  soldiers  dying,'  she  said 
in  a  low  voice,  *  I  arrange  to  stay  here  all 
night ' ;  and  then,  looking  at  him  pleadingly, 


34  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

she  added,  '  Could  you  wait  just  one  little 
hour  before  bringing  your  patient  to  the 
barge  ?  ' 

Reluctantly  he  shook  his  head.  '  I  must 
as  soon  as  possible  the  Prince  here  bring. 
It  is  bad  for  him  in  a  courtyard  full  of  noisy 
men  to  be.' 

But  she  went  on,  making  an  evident 
effort  to  speak  calmly,  conciliatingly.  '  Our 
cure  is  on  his  way  to  administer  these  poor 
d}dng.  I  cannot  think  why  he  has  delayed 
so  long — I  sent  for  him  at  five  o'clock ' 

'  But — but  ' — and  now  it  was  the  Herr 
Doktor's  turn  to  hesitate — '  your  cure  cannot 
come  here  to-night,  gracious  miss — at  least 
the  old  priest  who  lives  in  the  house  next  the 
church  cannot  do  so.  He  has  been  taken 
as  a  hostage  for  the  good  behaviour  of  the 
population  of  this  town.  Temporarily  is  he 
prisoner.  A  sad  necessity  of  war  such  things 
are.'  He  looked  at  her  deprecatingly — 
for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
Herr  Commandant  might  have  contented 
himself  with  locking  up  the  truculent  mayor, 
and  letting  the  old  priest  alone. 

He    saw   her    wince,    he    saw   the    colour 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  35 

rush  into  her  face.  '  But  surely  Monsieur 
le  Cure  will  be  allowed  to  administer  the 
last  Sacraments  to  dying  soldiers  !  '  she 
exclaimed. 

He  shook  his  head  solemnly.  It  was 
indeed  unfortunate  for  him  that  war,  and 
the  cruel,  grotesque  inhumanities  of  war, 
were  invading  the  stretch  of  neutral  country 
on  which  he  and  this — this  so  refined  and 
zierliches  Madchen  had  glided  so  pleasantly 
but  a  short  half-hour  ago.  Full  of  very 
real  concern  he  nerved  himself  to  reject 
the  personal  appeal  he  felt  sure  she  was 
about  to  make  to  him.  But  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  Instead 
she  turned,  and  looking  up  the  shaft  of  the 
stairway,  called  out  sharply  '  Jacob  !  '  and 
then  '  Therese  !  ' 

The  thin  man  and  the  stout  woman  both 
came  hurrying  down,  and  at  once  she  spoke 
to  them  in  quiet,  dry,  urgent  tones.  '  The 
Prussian  doctor  of  the  Red  Cross  is  going 
to  bring  a  wounded  Prussian  officer  on  to 
the  barge.  He  will  occupy  the  smaller  cabin. 
Two  orderlies  are  coming  to  help  you  to 
prepare    the    cabin ;     and    you,    Jacob,    will 


36         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

have  to  show  the  Prussians  how  the   crane 
is  worked.' 

The  Herr  Doktor,  himself  much  ruffled 
by  hearing  himself  described  as  a  Prussian, 
saw  a  look  of  sullen  ill-temper  come  over 
Jacob's  face.  But  Mademoiselle  Rouannes 
put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it  on  the  old  fellow's 
shoulder.  '  My  good  friend/  she  said,  and 
her  voice  quivered  for  the  first  time,  '  pray 
do  what  I  ask  of  you  without  discussion. 
And  you,  Therese,  I  must  ask  to  go  home 
and  tell  my  father  that  I  am  taking  the 
watch  here  to-night.' 

Jacob  was  the  first  to  respond  to  the 
appeal.  He  looked  fiercely  at  the  German 
Red  Cross  surgeon.  *  At  your  orders, 
M'sieur,'  he  said  gruffly.  As  for  the  woman, 
she  turned  away  with  a  sullen  '  Bien,  Made- 
moiselle,' and  started  walking  up  the  ladder- 
like stairway. 

The  Red  Cross  nurse  bowed  distantly. 
*  Bon  soir,  Monsieur,'  she  said  coldly. 

The  Herr  Doktor  also  bowed  stiffly.  It 
was  disconcerting,  even  strange,  to  find 
himself  once  more  in  enemy  country. 

She  slipped  through  the  narrow  door  of 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  37 

the  larger  ward,  and  he  heard  her  draw 
the  bolt. 

Again  he  felt  irritated,  and  surprised  as 
he  had  been  surprised  at  seeing  that  strange 
look  of  aversion  and  horror  flash  into  her 
face  when  her  eyes  had  first  rested  on 
him.  .  .  . 

True,  she  was  young,  divinely  com- 
passionate, and  very  delightful  to  the  eye, 
but  she  evidently  misunderstood  the  situa- 
tion !  It  was  he,  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller, 
who  was  now  in  command  of  the  Red  Cross 
barge,  and  that  by  the  rules  of  the  Inter- 
national Red  Cross  Society.  He  might, 
however,  so  far  humour  her  as  not  to  bring 
his  orderlies  to-night  on  board  what  had 
been  her  Red  Cross  barge.  He  had  noticed 
with  sincere  annoyance  that  his  men — who, 
by  the  way,  were  Prussians — were  rough,  not 
to  say  brutal,  in  their  manner  to  those  French 
people  with  whom  they  were  perforce  brought 
into  contact. 

So  after  he  had  made  the  old  Frenchman 
understand  what  he  wanted  done,  he  asked 
him,  in  his  halting  French,  '  Is  there  an  hotel 
close  by  where  sleep  I  can  ?  ' 


38  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  There's  a  kind  of  cabaret  yonder  ' —  and 
then,  as  if  rather  ashamed  of  his  ungracious- 
ness, the  man  added,  *  I  will  come  and  show 
Monsieur  le  Medecin  where  it  is.' 

Together  they  climbed  up  on  to  the 
deck  of  the  barge,  and  there  the  Herr  Doktor 
stopped  a  moment,  and  looking  round  about 
him,  drew  a  deep,  long  breath.  The  falling 
of  the  shade  of  night  was  singularly  beautiful 
on  this  quiet  stretch  of  slow-moving  waters. 
Across  the  river  a  line  of  poplars  looked 
like  a  row  of  ghostly,  giant  sentinels.  .  .  . 

The  two  men,  the  Frenchman  in  front, 
the  German  behind,  stepped  off  the  barge 
on  to  the  narrow  stone  jetty,  and  then  they 
walked  for  a  few  yards  in  darkness  along 
the  leafy  mall.  None  of  the  street  lamps 
had  been  lit  on  this,  the  evening  of  the  most 
tragic  day  in  the  life  of  Valoise,  but  dim 
lights  twinkled  in  the  house  across  the  road- 
way to  which  old  Jacob  now  led  his  enemy. 

'  M'sieur  will  find  this  place  quite  clean,' 
he  observed,  vigorously  pulling  the  bell  of 
a  narrow  door.  There  was  a  long  delay — 
then  a  young  woman,  opening  her  door  a 
few  inches,  looked  timorously  out  at  them. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  39 

But  Jacob  now  took  everything  on  himself. 
With  what  seemed  to  his  companion  an 
unnecessary  torrent  of  words,  he  ^explained 
that  '  Monsieur '  was  a  doctor  of  the  Red 
Cross,  who  had  come  to  look  after  the  wounded 
on  the  Red  Cross  barge,  and  that  therefore 
a  room  must  at  once  be  prepared  for  him. 
The  woman's  face  cleared,  she  opened  her 
narrow  door  widely,  and  led  the  way  up  to 
a  large,  clean  bedroom  on  the  first  floor, 
of  which  the  windows  overlooked  the  mall, 
the  river,  and — the  barge. 

As  a  few  moments  later  they  left  the 
house  the  Herr  Doktor  could  not  help  feeling 
grateful  to  old  Jacob.  Jacob  ?  Why  'twas 
almost  a  German  name  ! 


4 

Half  an  hour  later  the  great  grey 
ambulance,  drawn  up  close  to  the  gates 
of  the  Tourncbride,  was  ready  to  start  down 
the  hill,  and  the  Herr  Doktor  waited 
impatiently  while  the  five  hale  and  whole 
officers  bade  their  wounded  comrade  a  hearty, 
lengthy,  and  jovial  good-night. 


40  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

They  were  all  ubermiitig — bubbling  over 
with  wild  spirits — and  still  talking  of  their 
Mecca — Paris — now  only  some  thirty  miles 
away.  Any  hour  might  come  the  longed-for 
order  to  advance  thither  ! 

The  Herr  Doktor's  illustrious  patient 
seemed  the  most  eager  of  them  all.  But 
he  hoped  the  order  to  advance  would  be 
delayed  till  he  himself  were  well  enough  to 
be  in  time  for  the  solemn  entry  into  the 
conquered  city — that  entry  through  the  Arc 
de  Triomphe  which  was  to  be  a  more  superb 
replica  of  that  which  had  taken  place  in 
1 87 1.  Some  days  must  surely  elapse  before 
that  glorious  pageant  could  take  place, 
although  everything  was  ready  for  it — in 
Luxemburg.  In  Luxemburg,  so  Prince  Egon 
now  told  his  comrades — for  he  alone  among 
them  was  in  touch  with  the  Court — the 
Kaiser  was  waiting  impatiently  for  the  glad 
news  that  Paris  had  fallen  or  surrendered. 
There  too,  even  now,  the  Imperial  Master 
of  the  Horse  had  everything  prepared — 
the  state  chargers,  even,  had  been  brought 
from  Potsdam.  .  .  . 

At  last  the  Herr  Doktor  went  up  to  the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  41 

youthful  commanding  officer.  '  A  word  with, 
you  in  private,'  he  said  hurriedly,  and  the 
other  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  aside. 
He  was  curious  to  know  what  the  Herr 
Doktor  could  possibly  have  to  say,  '  in  private.' 

'  I  know  well  your  humane  sentiments 
towards  the  unfortunate  population  of  this 
conquered  country ' — the  words  came  quickly, 
almost  breathlessly — '  and  your  good  heart, 
Herr  Commandant,  will  perhaps  remember 
the  curious  request  made  to  you  by  the  old 
French  priest  when  taken  hostage.  I  have 
discovered  that  what  he  said  was  true — 
that  there  are  indeed  three  wounded  soldiers 
dying  on  the  Red  Cross  barge  where  I  am 
about  to  take  Prince  Egon.  Two  of  the 
men  will  not  outlast  the  night,  and  the  Red 
Cross  Sister,  a  French  lady  of  distinction, 
is  most  anxious  they  should  receive  religious 
consolation.  That  being  so  I  thought  I 
might  promise  her  that  this  pious  wish 
should  be  gratified.  With  your  permission 
the  priest  can  go  in  the  ambulance,  and 
I  myself  will  bring  him  back  within  an  hour 
or  so  ! ' 

The    Herr    Commandant    looked    at    the 


42  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Herr  Doktor  doubtfully.  He  did,  it  was 
true,  hold  the  unusual  theory  that  benignant 
justice,  rather  than  '  f rightfulness,'  was  the 
right  way  to  deal  with  a  conquered  popula- 
tion. He  remembered,  too,  that,  unlike  his 
four  lieutenants,  his  own  instinct  had  been 
to  believe  the  Cure  of  Valoise  when  the  old 
man  had  pleaded  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  attend  '  trois  mourants,'  and  that,  though 
it  had  seemed  almost  impossible  that  there 
could  be  three  dying  people  desiring  priestly 
ministration  in  this  little  town,  the  more  so 
that,  as  all  the  world  knew,  France  was  now 
an  utterly  godless  country. 

Still  he  waited  a  few  moments  before 
answering.  It  was  not  proper  that  the  Herr 
Doktor  should  take  too  much  upon  himself. 
But  his  mind  was  already  made  up,  and  at 
last  he  took  a  large  key  out  of  one  of  his 
pockets,  and  handed  it  to  the  Herr  Doktor. 
*  You  must  be  personally  responsible  for  the 
hostage's  safe  return  ! '  He  laughed  rather 
huskily.  '  The  responsibility  is  not  great, 
Herr  Doktor,  or  perhaps  I  would  not  put 
it  upon  you !  That  old  man  could  not 
hobble  away  very  far.     The  Mayor — ah,  that 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  43 

is  another  matter  !  He  is  what  they  call 
here  un  fort  gaillard.'  He  uttered  the  three 
French  words  without  any  accent,  and  the 
other  envied  him. 

The  Herr  Doktor  hastened  across  the 
courtyard  and  found  the  arch  in  the  wall 
which  he  knew  led  through  into  Madame 
Blanc's  well-stocked  kitchen  garden.  In  the 
centre  of  the  large  open  space  there  rose,  in 
the  moonlit  darkness,  the  square  building  lit 
only  by  a  skylight,  which  had  been  chosen  as 
making  an  ideal  prison  for  the  two  hostages. 
Putting  the  key  the  Herr  Commandant  had 
handed  him  in  the  door,  he  turned  it,  and 
walked  into  the  sweet-smelling  fruit-room  of 
the  old  inn. 

There  a  curious  sight  met  his  eyes.  The 
two  Frenchmen,  companions  in  misfortune 
though  they  were,  had  placed  themselves  as 
far  the  one  from  the  other  as  was  possible. 
The  priest  sat  on  his  truckle  bed,  reading  his 
breviary  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  while  the 
Mayor  of  Valoise,  also  sitting  on  his  bed — 
for  the  Tournebride  had  naturally  proved 
very  short  of  the  chairs  required  for  the 
accommodation  of  so  many  hosts — was  busily 


44         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

writing  what  he  intended  to  be  the  official 
account  of  his  amazing  and  disagreeable 
adventures. 

As  the  door  opened  the  Mayor  leapt  to 
his  feet,  and  a  look  of  apprehension  shot 
over  his  dark,  southern-looking  face.  The 
priest  looked  up,  but  remained  seated,  and 
went  on  reading  his  prayer-book  with  an 
air  of  ostentatious  indifference. 

The  Herr  Doktor  walked  across  to  the 
old  man.  '  Will  you  please  at  once  come  ?  ' 
he  said  haltingly.  '  Permission  for  you  ob- 
tained I  have  to  attend  the  French  wounded 
on  the  Red  Cross  barge.' 

The  priest  closed  his  book,  and  rose 
from  his  seat ;  but  at  the  same  moment  the 
Mayor  came  forward  towards  the  German 
Red  Cross  doctor,  but  there  was  a  curious 
lack  of  firmness  about  his  footsteps.  It  was 
as  if  he  hardly  knew  where  his  legs  were 
bearing  him.  His  voice,  however,  was  strong 
and  defiant.  '  I  protest  !  '  he  cried  loudly. 
'  I  strongly  and  vigorously  protest  against 
this  favour  being  shown  to  the  priest  ! 
It  is  on  me,  as  Mayor  of  Valoise,  that 
there     reposes     the     duty    of    transmitting 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


45 


to  their  families  the  wishes  of  our  dying 
soldiers  ! ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  brought  his  two  feet 
together  and  bowed.  '  Your  protest, 
Monsieur  le  Maire,  duly  registered  will  be,' 
he  said  coldly.  '  Meanwhile  I  must  ask 
Monsieur  le  Cure  my  instructions  to  obey.' 
Motioning  the  old  man  to  precede  him,  he 
walked  out  of  the  door,  and,  shutting  it, 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

Quickly  the  two  men  walked  through 
the  dark  garden,  and  when  they  were  close 
to  the  arch  which  led  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  Tournebride,  the  priest  abruptly  broke 
silence.  '  Am  I  to  be  allowed  to  administer 
these  dying  men  ?  '  he  asked. 

'  That  may  you  do,'  replied  the  Herr 
Doktor  shortly. 

'  Then,  Monsieur,  I  must  ask  permission  to 
go  round  by  my  house  and  by  the  church.' 

Now  this  was  not  exactly  in  the 
bond,  yet,  rather  to  his  own  surprise, 
the  Herr  Doktor  gave  his  orderly-driver  the 
command.  Why  not  do  this  thing  graciously 
and  thoroughly  while  he  was  about  it  ? 
Thoroughness  has   always   been   one   of     the 


46  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

great  German  virtues — so  he  reminded  him- 
self while  sitting  in  the  rather  airless 
ambulance,  and  listening  to  his  high-born 
patient's  fretful  remarks. 

As  the  motor  ambulance  at  last  drew 
up  on  the  road  opposite  to  where  the  barge 
was  moored,  there  arose  a  sudden  stir  in 
the  houses  facing  the  mall.  Windows  were 
flung  cautiously  open,  and  dark  forms  leaned 
out  of  them. 

Curtly  instructing  the  priest  to  follow 
him,  and  requesting  his  orderlies  to  await 
his  return,  the  Herr  Doktor  preceded  the 
priest  down  the  stone  gangway,  and  on  to 
the  deck  of  the  barge.  In  spite  of  the  stars 
it  was  a  very  dark  night,  and  suddenly  he 
turned  on  the  electric  torch  strapped  to 
his  breast.  As  he  did  so  his  companion 
uttered  a  sharp  exclamation  of  surprise. 
Monsieur  le  Cure  had  never  seen,  he  had 
never  even  heard  of  such  an  invention  ! 
It  made  him  realise,  as  he  had  not  yet  done, 
what  terrible,  ingenious,  irresistible  fellows 
these  Germans  were. 
The  big  trap-door  in  the  deck  had^  been 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  47 

opened,  and  the  crane  for  lowering  the 
wounded  man  was  already  in  position. 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes  had  been  true  to 
her  word,  everything  had  been  made  ready 
for  the  new  patient,  and  the  Herr  Doktor 
felt  suddenly  very  glad  that  he  had  followed 
his  kindly  so- truly -German -and -humane 
impulse  about  the  priest. 

Carefully  the  two  went  down  the  stairs 
now  open  to  the  star-powdered  sky,  and 
then  the  one  in  command  knocked  at  the 
door  of  what  he  already  called  in  his  own 
mind  '  Her  ward.' 

There  followed  a  moment  or  two  of 
delay — long  enough  for  the  Herr  Doktor  to 
become  rather  impatient.  Then,  slowly,  the 
door  opened,  and  the  electric  torch  flashed 
for  a  moment  over  Mademoiselle  Rouannes' 
head  and  breast.  She  no  longer  wore  the 
Red  Cross  cap  and  veil,  and  her  fair  hair 
formed  an  aureole  above  her  delicately- 
tinted  face  and  deep  blue  eyes.  '  If  you  will 
ask  Jacob,  he  will  tell  you  everything, 
Monsieur  le  Medecin.  I  have  told  him  to 
put  himself  entirely  at  your  disposal. 
I  cannot   come   just   now,  for    I    must    not 


48  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

leave  my  wounded.  Two  of  them  are  even 
now  dying.' 

She  spoke  in  a  quick  whisper  and  in 
her  own  language.  But  the  Herr  Doktor 
answered  in  English.  '  Gracious  miss,  I  have 
to  you  the  priest  brought,'  he  said  eagerly. 

'  I  thank  you — oh  !  how  I  thank  you  !  ' 
There  was  a  thrill  of  real,  heartfelt  gratitude 
in  her  voice — and  something  in  the  Herr 
Doktor's  heart  thrilled  in  answer,  as  she 
opened  wide  the  narrow  door  to  let  them 
both  come  through. 

Most  of  the  men,  lying  stretched  out 
there,  on  those  narrow  pallet  beds,  were 
asleep,  but  only  the  two  now  so  near  to  death 
seemed  really  at  peace.  The  others  moved 
uneasily,  and  from  their  bloodless  lips  there 
issued  painful  mutterings  and  groans.  One 
very  young  soldier  kept  counting  over  and 
over  again — from  one  to  thirty-seven.  When 
he  came  to  trente-sept,  he  always  broke  off, 
and  began  again.  In  answer  to  a  mute, 
questioning  glance  from  the  Herr  Doktor,  the 
Red  Cross  nurse  whispered,  '  The  thirty-eighth 
shot  struck  him.  But  he  only  counts  like 
that  when  he  is  asleep.'     A  lad  in  the  farthest 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  49 

corner,  the  third  man  in  the  danger  zone, 
asked  again  and  again,  with  a  terrible,  mono- 
tonous reiteration,  '  Mais  pourquoi  ?  Pourquoi 
suis-je  ici  ? ' 

Again  the  doctor  turned  questioningly 
to  Jeanne  Rouannes.  '  He  also  always  begins 
asking  that  question  as  soon  as  he  falls 
asleep,'  she  said  sighing ;  '  when  awake  he 
seems  quite  happy.' 

The  Herr  Doktor  was  strangely  reluctant 
to  leave  the  mournful  scene.  He  felt  an 
uneasy  curiosity  as  to  what  was  going  to 
take  place.  Even  now  the  Red  Cross  nurse 
was  turning  a  little  table,  which  had  been 
covered  with  various  odd  French  medicaments, 
into  an  altar.  But  his  duty  to  his  own 
patient  called  him  insistently  away,  and 
slowly  he  backed  towards  the  door.  Once 
there,  however,  he  called  out,  but  in  a  low 
voice,  ^  Miss  ?     Miss  ?     A  word  with  you.' 

She  came  and  stood  by  him,  a  lovely 
vision  of  health,  purity,  and  strength,  in  that 
piteous,  pain-bound  place. 

'  When  the  priest  finished  has,'  he 
murmured,  '  again  back  him  I  will  take. 
I  have  myself  responsible  for  him  made.' 


so  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

'  I  promise  you  that  he  will  not  be  very 
long  !  '  And  then  she  added  softly,  '  I  thank 
you  again,  sir,  for  having  done  this  good 
action.     The  good  God  will  reward  you.' 

She  opened  the  door,  and  after  she  had 
closed  it  again,  the  Herr  Doktor  lingered  for 
a  moment  outside  in  the  little  passage  which 
was  now  open  to  the  stars  and  cool  night 
air. 

And  during  the  hour  he  spent  in  the 
low-ceilinged,  white-washed  cabin  where 
Prince  Egon  now  lay  comfortably  settled  in 
a  real  bed,  the  Herr  Doktor,  though  his  body 
was  by  his  patient's  side,  in  his  spirit  dwelt 
in  the  other  half  of  the  Red  Cross  barge — 
where  was  taking  place  the  ever  august 
and  awe-inspiring  transit  from  life  to  death 
of  two  young,  sentient,  human  beings.  So 
little  indeed  was  he  present  in  mind  where 
his  body  was,  that  he  experienced  a  feeling 
of  astonishment,  as  well  as  of  discomfort, 
when  he  suddenly  realised  that  a  quick, 
amicable  conversation  was  going  on  between 
the  young  Prussian  officer  and  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes'  old  French  man-servant. 

'  Herr  Doktor  ! '  cried  Prince  Egon  joy- 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  51 

fully,  '  this  fellow  was  once  a  valet — valet 
to  a  Prince  de  Ligne  !  I  have  told  him  that 
henceforth  he  is  commandeered  by  me  !  He 
will  be  my  valet.  I  would  far  rather  be 
waited  on  by  him  than  by  that  tiresome 
Fritz  of  yours.  This  one  is  a  thoroughly 
intelligent  fellow  ;  he  knows  a  house  in  this 
town  where  there  is  a  great  store  of  those 
unanstdndige  Parisian  comic  papers.  He  will 
bring  them  here  to-morrow  morning — so  I 
now  have  something  pleasant  to  dream 
about ! ' 

'  That  is  good,'  said  the  Herr  Doktor 
absently.  '  I  felt  sure  your  Highness  would 
prefer  this  place  to  the  Tournebride.  I  hope 
you  will  not  be  disturbed  by  the  French 
wounded.     There  is  a  passage  room  between.' 

'  The  French  wounded  will  not  disturb 
me  !  '  The  young  man  lifted  himself  slightly 
in  his  bed  and  smiled.  '  It  is  not  as  if  they 
were  our  brave  fellows,  after  all ! ' 


B  a 


PART  II 


It  was  half-past  five  on  this,  the  sixth  morning 
of  the  Herr  Doktor's  stay  at  Valoise. 

He  leapt  out  of  bed  and  had  a  cold  plunge 
bath — a  most  peculiar,  un-German  habit  he 
had  acquired  during  the  months  he  had 
boarded  with  an  English  family  at  Munich. 

Then,  when  he  was  dressed,  not  before, 
he  put  on  his  spectacles  and  went  across 
to  the  window.  On  the  first  morning  of 
his  stay  there,  he  had  been  filled  with  a 
queer  misgiving  that  perhaps  when  he  looked 
out  the  Red  Cross  barge  would  have  drifted 
away — disappeared,  fairy-wise,  in  the  night. 
That  he  now  no  longer  feared,  and  on  this 
lovely  September  morning  his  eyes  rested 
with  a  feeling  of  exultant  ownership  on  the 
now  familiar  scene  before  him.  The  trim, 
leafy  mall  just  across  the  paved  road,   the 

52 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  53 

slowly  flowing  river  gleaming  in  the  bright 
morning  sun,  the  line  of  poplars  above  the 
opposite  bank — and  then  in  the  centre,  as 
it  were,  of  the  placid  landscape,  the  Red 
Cross  barge.  .  .  .  they  were  his,  for  ever — 
the  harvest  of  his  eyes,  of  his  imagination, 
of  his  heart. 

The  Red  Cross  barge  ?  The  man  standing 
at  the  window  of  this  humble  French  wine- 
shop told  himself  how  good  it  was  that  now, 
to-day,  that  work  of  mercy  before  him  was 
the  only  reminder  in  Valoise  that  France 
was  at  war.  Till  the  day  before  there  had 
been  a  hundred  and  five  spurred  and  booted 
reminders,  but  yesterday  afternoon  the 
Uhlans  had  ridden  off  eagerly,  exultantly, 
to  join  their  main  victorious  army — that 
army  which  was  now  engaged  in  pursuing  the 
defeated  English  and  the  retreating  French. 

The  Herr  Doktor,  on  this  peaceful,  sunny 
morning,  quite  forgot  that  he  himself  was  a 
constant  reminder  of  the  awful  struggle,  of 
the  losing  fight  now  going  on  between  those 
the  women  of  Valoise  had  sent  forth — their 
husbands,  sons,  and  lovers — and  his  country- 
men. 


54  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

But  it  was  natural  he  should  make  this 
capital  omission,  for  as  he  stood  there, 
looking  out  on  a  still  unawakened  world,  the 
people  of  Valoise,  well  disposed  as  he  felt 
towards  them,  formed  but  a  blurred  back- 
ground to  the  one  figure  which  now  possessed 
all  his  waking,  aye,  and  all  his  dreaming 
thoughts.  Not  only  did  he  now  know,  but 
he  exulted  in  the  knowledge  that,  with  his 
first  vision-like  sight  of  Jeanne  Rouannes, 
had  come  that  '  love-at-once  '  of  which  some 
of  his  comrades  had  rhapsodised  in  the 
now-so-distant-as-to-be-almost-forgotten  pre- 
war time.  Those  rhapsodies  of  long  ago  had 
left  him  unmoved,  partly  because  as  a  student 
he  had  adored,  with  a  selfless,  hopeless 
passion,  a  famous  singer  far  older  than  him- 
self, and  partly  because,  with  the  passing 
of  years,  he  had  seen  the  springtide  romance 
of  youth  almost  invariably  dulled  down 
into  what  would  have  been,  to  such  a  man 
as  he  knew  himself  to  be,  unendurably  dull 
domesticity. 

Was  this  new,  and  at  once  rapturous  and 
painful,  absorption  in  another  human  being 
the   outcome   of  great,   noble,   war-provoked 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  55 

emotions  ?  If  so,  how  amazing  that  a  French- 
woman should  have  compelled  the  flowering 
of  his  soul,  the  awakening  of  both  spirit  and 
senses  to  what  the  union  of  a  man  and  woman 
may  mean  !  But  well  content  was  he  that 
it  should  be  so.  This  side  of  the  great  war — 
so  futile  from  the  point  of  view  of  happy, 
prosperous  France — would  soon  be  at  an 
end.  That  he  had  been  confidently  assured, 
some  three  weeks  ago,  by  a  member  of  General 
von  Kluck's  own  able  staff.  Within  a  very 
short  time  of  the  German  occupation  of 
Paris — some  even  believed  within  a  few 
hours  of  the  capitulation  of  the  city — peace 
would  be  signed  with  France.  There  would 
be  bitterness  among  certain  sections  of  the 
French  people — among  the  Chauvinists,  for 
instance,  who  still  hankered  after  Alsace. 
But  the  Conquerors  had  behaved  so  humanely 
and  so  wisely  during  their  triumphant  rush 
through  Northern  France,  that  this  very 
natural  feeling  would  soon  fade  away,  while 
the  love  he,  Max  Keller,  now  bore  Jeanne 
Rouannes  was  of  the  eternal,  enduring  quality 
which  compels  its  own  fulfilment.  .  .  . 
Already  in  his  dreams  the  Herr  Doktor  saw 


56  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

his  house,  his  childhood's  home,  at  Weimar, 
beflowered  and  garlanded  to  receive  a  bride. 
But  these  dreams  were  far  more  living 
and  tangible  to  his  imagination  during  those 
waking  hours  when  they  two  were  apart, 
than  when  the  Herr  Doktor  was  faced  with 
the  reality  of  his  and  Mademoiselle  Rouannes' 
necessarily  formal  relationship.  More  than 
once  he  had  tried  to  engage  her  in  talk  on 
'  safe  '  subjects — such  subjects,  for  instance, 
as  that  of  the  Great  Revolution — but  she 
had  quietly  eluded  him,  and  he  sometimes 
had  to  face  the  fact  that  the  only  common 
ground  on  which  they  met  each  day  was  that 
on  which  lay  the  wounded  Frenchmen  to 
whom  she  gave  so  much  anxious  care.  It 
was  a  ground  on  which  the  Herr  Doktor 
spent  all  the  time  he  could.  But  un- 
fortunately, or  perhaps  fortunately,  it  was 
ground  which  was  being  rapidly  cleared, 
for  thanks  to  his  skill,  to  her  care,  and  no 
doubt  to  nature  too,  *our  wounded,'  as  he 
had  once  ventured  to  call  them  to  her,  were 
now  in  full  convalescence,  almost  fit,  in  fact, 
to  be  taken  off  as  prisoners  to  Germany. 
When  that  thought,  that  knowledge,  rose  to 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  57 

the  Herr  Doktor's  mind  he  always  thrust  it 
hurriedly  away.  The  despatch  of  prisoners 
is  purely  a  military  duty,  and  would  in  this 
case  be  performed  by  whatever  officer  on 
whom  it  devolved  ;  if  no  one  better  offered, 
then  on  the  Herr  Lieutenant,  Prince  Egon 
von  Witgenstein. 

Prince  Egon  ?  On  this  fine  September 
morning,  the  Herr  Doktor  suddenly  found 
himself  wondering  whether  it  would  not  be 
advisable  to  move  his  patient  into  the  now 
empty  Tournebride.  The  knowledge  that 
the  Prince  would  soon  be  well  enough  to 
sit  up  on  deck  was  not  as  agreeable  to  the 
Herr  Doktor  as  it  ought  to  have  been  to 
a  conscientious  medical  attendant.  True, 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes  never  even  asked 
him  how  his  noble  patient  was  progressing, 
and  once,  when  old  Jacob  had  alluded  to 
the  Uhlan  officer,  the  Herr  Doktor  had  over- 
heard her  exclaim,  with  a  strange  touch  of 
passion  in  her  voice,  '  I  forbid  you — I  forbid 
you,  Jacob,  to  speak  of  that  Prussian  to 
me  !  '  But  Prince  Egon  did  not  share  her 
indifference,  still  less  her — was  it  hatred  ? 
He  was  frankly  interested  in  his  fair  enemy, 


S8  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

and  very  eager  to  make  her  acquaintance. 
But  the  Herr  Doktor  was  determined  that 
this  so  uncalled-for  and  undesirable-from- 
every-point-of-view  desire  of  the  Prince 
should  not  be  gratified. 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door  ;  it  was 
his  petit  dejeuner,  and  the  woman  who 
brought  it  in  smiled  quite  pleasantly.  It  was 
only  the  second  time  she  had  smiled  at  her 
unbidden  guest.  It  was  curious  how  the 
departure  of  those  burly,  good-natured  Uhlans 
had  affected  the  people  of  Valoise  !  Within 
an  hour  of  their  going,  windows  had  been 
unshuttered,  doors  unbarred,  and  a  stream 
of  women,  of  children,  and  of  old  men  the 
Herr  Doktor  had  not  suspected  of  being  in 
Valoise  at  all,  had  flowed  into  the  streets  of 
the  town.  .  .  . 

He  drank  his  coffee  and  ate  his  rolls 
with  an  excellent  appetite,  and  then  he 
glanced  at  his  chronometer.  It  was  three 
minutes  to  six — time  he  went  across  to  the 
barge.  For  when  six  struck  by  the  church 
tower  (which,  according  to  his  Baedeker, 
had  been  built  by  the  English  in  the  now 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  59 

utterly  departed  days  of  their  valour  and 
military  prowess,  that  is  in  the  thirteenth 
century)  the  Herr  Doktor  invariably  met 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes  by  accident,  either 
in  the  road,  or,  what  was  pleasanter  still, 
under  the  trees  in  the  mall.  When  he  saw 
her  coming,  gravely  he  would  stop  and  bow, 
and  she  would  bend  her  head  in  greeting. 
It  would  have  been  natural,  and  agreeable 
too,  for  them  to  linger  a  few  moments  ;  but 
that  he  had  soon  found  she  would  never  do. 
Singularly  reserved  always  was  she  in  her 
manner,  and  in  vain  did  he  persist  in  his 
attempts  to  persuade  her  to  engage  in  general 
beneficial  -  to  -  the  -  intellect  and  pleasantly - 
agreeable-to-the-cultured-mind  conversation. 

Two  cases,  as  we  know,  had  been  beyond 
human  help  when  he  had  first  undertaken  the 
care  of  the  French  wounded,  but  the  third 
case,  greatly  owing  to  his  skill  and  untiring 
efforts,  seemed  likely  to  pull  through.  Still, 
even  so,  the  Herr  Doktor  and  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  were  very  anxious  about  this  case, 
a  boy  of  nineteen,  a  clever,  well-mannered, 
gentle  boy  of  the  peasant  class,  who  had 
been    shot    through    the    lung.     What    had 


6o  THE  RED  CROSS   BARGE 

touched  the  German  surgeon's  heart,  what 
had  made  him  especially  interested  in  this 
young  soldier,  were  a  few  words  which  had 
been  uttered  by  the  Red  Cross  nurse  very 
early  in  their  joint  work  of  mercy.  '  //  est 
le  seul  soutien  de  sa  vieille  grand^mere.^  Now, 
curiously  enough,  he.  Max  Keller,  was  also 
*  the  sole  support  of  his  old  grandmother,' 
a  grand  old  woman  of  seventy-nine,  now 
eating  her  heart  out  in  placid,  cultured 
Weimar,  while  thanking  God  her  boy  was 
not  in  the  firing  line. 

The  Herr  Doktor  went  across  the  road 
to  the  grateful  shade  of  the  lime  trees.  There 
he  waited,  his  heart  beating,  his  pulse 
throbbing,  for  what  seemed  a  long,  long 
time.  Every  moment  he  hoped,  nay,  he 
expected  confidently,  to  see  her  hastening 
towards  him,  clad  in  the  white  dress  and 
wearing  the  medieval-looking  cap,  with  its 
red  cross  in  the  centre,  which  now  seemed 
the  most  becoming  head-dress  in  the  world. 
Hastening  towards  him  ?  Nay,  nay,  — 
hastening  towards  the  Red  Cross  barge. 

But   the    minutes   went    slowly   by,    and 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  6i 

Mademoiselle  Rouannes  did  not  come. 
Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps 
she  was  already  on  the  barge.  If  so,  he  had 
indeed  wasted  precious  moments.  .  .  . 

As  he  hurried  along  the  stone  jetty  he 
saw  the  stout  figure  of  old  Therese  on  deck. 
That  meant  that  her  young  mistress  was 
below,  in  the  ward. 

The  Herr  Doktor  smiled  pleasantly  at 
the  old  woman,  and  she  smiled  back,  a 
broad  genial  smile  of  good  fellowship.  What 
a  difference  the  departure  of  those  few 
countrymen  of  his  yesterday  had  made,  to 
be  sure  ! 

But  when  he  hurried  down  to  the  French 
ward  he  at  once  knew,  without  being  told, 
that  Mademoiselle  Jeanne  had  not  yet  arrived. 
Old  Therese  had  done  her  best,  but  it  was  a 
very  poor  best,  to  make  the  men  lying  there 
comfortable.  Still,  they  all  looked  more  cheer- 
ful than  usual,  and  the  boy  he  now  hoped 
to  save,  the  boy  for  whom  he  had  a  very 
tender  corner  in  his  kindly,  sentimental 
soul,  caught  hold  of  his  hand  as  he  went 
by,  and  asked  huskily,  '  Is  it  true  that  the 
Prussians  are  gone  ?     Quel  bonheur  I ' 


62  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

It  struck  half-past  six,  seven,  then  half- 
past  seven. 

The  Herr  Doktor  went  up  again  on  to 
the  deck.  Therese  was  sitting  there  sewing. 
'  And  Mademoiselle  ?  '  he  asked  questioningly. 

She  shook  her  head.  '  Mademoiselle  was 
very  unhappy  last  night.  She  thinks  her 
father  is  much  worse.  I  myself  can  see  no 
difference.  But  something  he  said  to  her 
frightened  her,  and  so  she  said  she  must  stop 
at  home  to-day,  and  nurse  him.' 

He  felt  absurdly  surprised,  absurdly 
annoyed,  absurdly  taken  aback. 

Had  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  a  right  to 
leave  the  ambulance  barge  ?  He  doubted  it 
— doubted  it  very  much  indeed.  Of  course 
he  himself,  being  now  in  command  of  the 
barge,  could  order  her  to  come.  He  was  a 
Red  Cross  doctor,  and  she  a  Red  Cross  nurse  ; 
he  had,  therefore,  the  absolute  right  to  dis- 
pose of  her  time  and  services.  But,  sighing, 
he  dismissed  the  thought.  She  was  quite 
unlike  any  German  girl  he  had  ever  seen. 
It  would  not  occur  to  her  to  be  flattered,  or 
even  touched,  by  his  imperious  wish  for  her 
presence. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  63 

As  he  stood  there,  wondering  what  he 
had  better  do,  there  flashed  into  his  mind 
the  wording  of  a  short  note  which  it  might 
become  his  duty  to  write  to  her.  The  note 
would  be  written  in  English,  and  it  would 
run  somewhat  in  this  wise  :  '  Gracious  Miss,' 
— or  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  put  plain 
*  Miss  '  in  the  French  way — '  If  you  your 
father  can  leave  for  a  short  time,  I  should 
be  glad  if  to  the  barge  you  come  would. 
One  of  your  wounded  is  not  so  well. — Yours 
respectfully.  Max  Keller.' 

There  would  be  nothing  offensive,  nothing 
hectoring  about  such  a  missive,  and  he 
thought,  he  felt  sure,  that  it  would  bring 
her.  But  he  would  not  write  that  note 
yet.  He  would  wait  till  he  had  seen  his 
own  patient.  Prince  Egon.  Luckily,  there 
was  no  hurry  as  to  that,  and,  still  secretly 
hoping  she  would  come,  he  lingered  on,  up 
on  deck. 

The  sun  had  gone  behind  a  cloud.  There 
was  an  autumnal  chill  in  the  morning  air. 
The  waters  of  the  slowly  flowing  river  looked 
grey  and  sullen.  Suddenly  the  Herr  Doktor 
felt     oddly     friendless,     and    alone.      '  This 


64  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

morning  felt  I  so  foolishly  cheerful,  and  this 
the  natural  reaction  is  !  '  he  exclaimed  to 
himself. 

He  turned  and  walked  down  to  Prince 
Egon's  small  quarters.  Cautiously  he 
opened  the  narrow  door,  but  his  patient 
was  awake  and  smiling. 

What  a  contrast  this  curious  little  cabin 
presented,  especially  to-day,  to  that  con- 
taining the  French  wounded  !  Here  every- 
thing was  ship-shape,  even  to  a  modest  degree, 
luxurious.  On  an  inlaid  table,  which  had 
been  '  commandeered '  from  an  empty  villa, 
were  laid  out  gold-backed  brushes,  and  a 
number  of  pretty  trifles.  Above  the  table 
hung  a  circular  mirror,  also  commandeered, 
and  there  was  a  whiff  of  some  sweet,  pungent 
scent  in  the  air.  How  different,  too,  the 
white  and  pink  yellow-haired  youth  lying 
there  from  the  small,  dark,  and  now  unshaved 
Frenchmen  on  the  other  side.  Old  Jacob 
was  kept  too  busy  attending  on  the  Prussian 
prince  to  spare  any  time  for  his  own 
countrymen. 

The  Herr  Doktor  looked  at  what  had 
partly  been  his  own  handiwork — the  handi- 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  65 

work  of  which  he  had  felt  proud  on  the 
first  evening  of  his  arrival  at  Valoise — with 
a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction,  almost  of  disgust. 

Over  a  basket-chair  was  carefully  spread 
out  a  green  and-gold-silk  dressing-gown, 
in  the  Weimar  surgeon's  eyes  a  garment  of 
almost  Oriental  splendour. 

'  If  you  will  allow  of  it,  Herr  Doktor,  I 
propose  to  get  up,'  said  Prince  Egon  cheer- 
fully. '  I  feel  wonderfully  better  to-day  ! 
It  is  extraordinary  what  good  this  rest 
has  done  me.  And  then  that  old  Jacob  ! 
An  almost  perfect  valet  !  What  good  fortune 
for  me  that  he  should  be  here  !  He  has 
already  made  me  a  delicious  omelette  this 
morning.' 

'  And  your  Highness  was  not  afraid  to 
eat  it  ?  '  This  was  really  a  little  joke  on  the 
Herr  Doktor's  part.  But  his  patient  did 
not  so  accept  it.  An  extraordinary  change 
came  over  the  recumbent  man's  fair  face  ; 
it    became   livid,    discomposed. 

'  God  in  heaven  !  '  he  cried.  '  Do  you 
suspect  old  Jacob,  Herr  Doktor  ?  ' 

And  then  the  older  man  burst  into 
laughter.     '  No,  no,'  he  said  soothingly.     '  I 

F 


ee         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

suspect  nothing  !  Besides  your  Highness  has 
made  it  very  much  worth  old  Jacob's  while 
to  keep  you  alive.' 

*  Aye,  aye  !  That's  true.'  The  prince 
was  reassured.  *  As  I  was  saying  just  now, 
I  feel  so  much  better  that,  if  you  permit  it, 
I  propose  to  get  up.  I  will  wear  my  dressing- 
gown,  not  my  uniform,  and  I  will  go  up  on 
deck.  There  I  will  sit  and  chat  with  the 
beautiful  English-speaking  Mamselle.  Jacob 
tells  me  that  on  her  mother's  side  she  is  of 
noble  birth,  and  that,  although  her  father 
is  only  a  physician,  she ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  put  up  his  hand.  *  I 
must  now  take  your  Highness'  temperature,' 
he  said  a  little  sharply.  '  I  doubt  much  if 
you  are  well  enough  to  go  upstairs.  A  chill 
would  be  very  serious  in  your  Highness's 
condition.  As  for  the  Red  Cross  Sister, 
she  is  not  here  to-day.     Her  father  is  very 

m.' 

'  Not  here  ?  But  that  is  absurd  !  '  The 
young  man  spoke  with  a  touch  of  imperious 
decision.  '  You  must  send  for  her,  my  dear 
Herr  Doktor  ;  she  must  be  requisitioned  ! ' 
He  smiled — an  insolent  smile. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  e-j 

The  other  shook  his  head.  A  sudden 
passion  of  dislike,  of  contempt,  for  his  patient 
filled  his  heart.  But  all  he  said  was — 
*  Impossible  !     Her  father  is  very  ill  indeed.' 

'  Then  I  will  not  trouble  to  get  up. 
I  am  very  well  where  I  am.  It  is  very 
comfortable  here.' 

Prince  Egon  spoke  pettishly.  He  had 
looked  forward  to  an  amusing  flirtation  with 
the  Mamselle  with  whose  manifold  perfections 
old  Jacob  sometimes  entertained  him. 

The  hours  of  the  morning  dragged  wearily 
on.  To  the  Herr  Doktor  it  seemed  as  if 
there  had  never  been  such  a  long,  such  an 
utterly  lacking-in-flavour,  day  as  was  this 
day.  For  the  first  time  he  talked  to  the 
convalescent  Frenchmen  at  some  length  of 
themselves.  Not  one  of  them  had  been  a 
soldier  at  the  time  the  war  broke  out  on 
that  fateful  ist  of  August,  and  yet  it  surprised 
him,  and  in  a  sense  moved  him,  to  see  that 
every  one  of  them  wished  to  go  back  and 
fight.  Not  one  of  them  seemed  conscious 
that  he  was  now  a  prisoner,  and  that,  unless 
peace  was  made  at  once,  he  would  soon  be 
in  Germany.  .  .  . 


68  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


At  twelve  o'clock  the  Herr  Doktor  walked 
up  to  the  Tournebride.  He  had  thought  it 
possible  that  he  might  meet  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  in  the  town — but  it  was  in  vain 
that  he  lingered  on  the  way,  and  glanced  up 
each  steep  byway,  and  quiet,  shady  street. 

While  he  was  eating  an  excellent  dejeuner 
at  a  table  spread  under  the  trees  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  inn,  he  cleverly  led 
Madame  Blanc  on  to  the  subject  of  Dr. 
Rouannes.  She,  too,  seemed  quite  another 
woman  now  that  the  Tournebride  was  her 
own  again.  To-day  she  was  eager  for  a 
gossip. 

Yes,  '  ce  bon  docteur '  was  certainly 
seriously  ill.  He  had  looked  so  well,  so 
vigorous,  when  he  had  started,  a  month  ago, 
for  the  Frontier.  It  was  there  that  a  shell 
had  exploded  in  the  room  where  he  was 
actually  performing  a  small  operation  on  a 
man  wounded  during  the  dash  into  Alsace. 
As  he  had  been  struck  in  the  left  leg,  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  go  on  with  his  work, 
and  he  had  managed  to  get  home.     At  first 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  69 

it  had  been  said  that  he  would  soon  be  all 
right  again.  But  now  it  was  rumoured  that 
he  was  dying !  If  that  were  indeed  true, 
Dr.  Rouannes  would  be  a  great  loss  to 
Valoise,  for  he  was  an  excellent  doctor, 
much  beloved  in  the  town.  His  daughter 
was  thought  rather  proud — very  good  to 
'  les  "pauvres^  but  unwilling  to  frequent  the 
more  well-to-do  townsfolk.  This,  no  doubt, 
because  her  mother  was  '  une  noble.''  Madame 
Blanc  smiled  as  she  did  not  often  smile 
now,  as  she  recalled  the  marriage  of  Dr. 
Rouannes.  He  had  refused  such  excellent 
'  occasions ' — such  rich  marriages  when  he 
was  young  and  good-looking !  Then,  when  he 
was  forty-six  years  of  age,  and  a  confirmed 
bachelor,  he  had  suddenly  married  Made- 
moiselle Jeanne  de  Bligniere,  the  younger 
of  the  two  daughters  of  the  Count  de 
Bligniere,  a  poor,  proud  old  gentleman 
whom  he,  the  doctor,  had  attended,  out  of 
charity  no  doubt.  Curious  to  relate,  this 
'  manage  etrange '  had  been  a  very  happy 
one,  and  this  though  Madame  Rouannes 
was  very,  very  quiet,  gentle,  and  pious  too, 
in   fact  rather  like   '  une  bonne   Soeur,''      She 


70         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

had  been  ill  two  years,  and  Dr.  Rouannes 
had  brought  many  physicians  from  Paris  to 
see  her.  It  was  said  that  the  chemist's 
bill  alone  had  be^n  a  thousand  francs  !  But 
the  poor  lady  had  died  all  the  same,  and 
she,  Madame  Blanc,  would  never  forget 
Monsieur  le  Medecin's  tragic,  stricken  face 
at  the  funeral. 

It  had  been  thought  that  he  would  surely 
marry  again.  But  no,  he  had  not  done 
so.  At  first  Madame  Rouannes'  sister  had 
come  to  take  care  of  the  motherless  little 
girl,  but  Mademoiselle  de  Bligniere  had  never 
liked  her  brother-in-law,  so  she  soon  went 
back  to  Paris.  Then  for  some  time  Made- 
moiselle Jeanne  had  had  '  une  anglaise.'*  It 
was  only  last  winter,  while  visiting  her 
aunt  in  Paris,  that  she  had  learnt  the  Red 
Cross  work. 

At  last  the  Herr  Doktor  finished  his 
delicious  dejeuner  under  the  yellowing  chest- 
nut trees  in  the  great  courtyard  which  now 
looked  so  peaceful  and  so  solitary,  and  he 
wondered,  a  little  ashamed  of  the  materialism 
of  the  unspoken  question,  if  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes    knew    anything    of    the    practical 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  71 

fide  of  French  cookery.  And  after  he  had 
had  his  cup  of  cofEee  and  smoked  his  pipe, 
he  took  his  diary  out  of  his  pocket.  He 
had  not  opened  the  book  for  nearly  a  week. 

Quickly  he  turned  over  the  blank  pages — 
and  then  a  sudden  wave  of  emotion  swept  over 
him.  To-day  was  the  2nd  of  September — 
Sedan  Day  !  And  he  had  not  remembered  it ! 
He  thought  of  last  year's  Sedan  Day,  spent 
with  some  dear  old  friends  of  his  childhood, 
and  his  heart  became  irradiated  with  a 
peculiar,  tender  radiance.  Beautiful,  culture- 
filled  Weimar  !  How  he  longed  to  show  his 
dear  homeland  to  his  '  Geliebte '  !  Then 
a  less  noble  feeling,  one  of  fierce  exultation 
filled  him.  He  visioned  the  great  hosts  of 
the  Fatherland,  his  brothers  all,  pressing 
forward  through  this  splendid,  opulent  land 
of  France.  Those  great  hosts  must  now  be 
close  to  the  gates  of  Paris — nay,  they  were 
perchance  in  Paris  already,  celebrating  the 
great  anniversary  while  preparing  to  play 
the  role  of  magnanimous  conquerors.  .  .  . 

Only  yesterday  had  come  news  of  wonder- 
ful doings — and  he  had  scarcely  cared  to 
hear  them  !     Tidings  of  the  invading  army 


72  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

brought  by  two  officers  in  charge  of  an 
armoured  motor-car.  Tidings  of  victory  of 
course  ;  and  of  one  especial  victory  which 
they  had  felt  peculiarly  pleasant  and  ermuti- 
gend,  the  defeat  and  complete  encirclement, 
that  is,  of  the  small  British  Expeditionary 
Force.  The  English,  so  had  run  the  tale, 
still  turned  now  and  again  and  fought,  not 
without  courage,  small  rearguard  actions, 
but  they  were  not  causing  any  real  trouble. 
Already  Compiegne  was  evacuated,  and 
Chantilly  was  ready  for  the  Kaiser's  occupa- 
tion. It  was  from  the  magnificent  home  of 
*  Le  Grand  Conde  '  that  the  War  Lord  in- 
tended to  start  for  the  entry  of  his  victorious 
army  through  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  into  Paris. 

Of  course  the  Herr  Doktor  had  been 
quite  pleased  to  hear  all  this  glorious  news, 
but  though  he  realised  how  inspiriting  it  was 
to  know  that  within  a  day  and  a  half's  march 
of  Valoise  pressed  on  the  relentless  march 
on  Paris,  he  had  not  really  cared.  Valoise 
had  suddenly  become  to  him  the  one  place 
in  the  world  which  mattered.  The  only 
place  where  he  wished  to  be — to  stay.  .  .  . 

He  knew  that  the  city  of  Paris,  as  apart 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  73 

from  the  rest  of  France,  was  to  pay  a  huge 
indemnity.  Until  that  indemnity  was  paid, 
there  was  to  be  an  army  of  occupation,  not 
only  in  the  city,  but  in  the  surrounding 
country.  Of  this  army  he,  as  a  non-com- 
batant, could  easily  obtain  permission  to 
form  part.  .  .  . 

And  then  as  he  walked  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  courtyard,  there  suddenly  rose  on 
the  still,  warm  air  a  long-drawn  distant  roar 
of  sound. 

Thunder  ?  The  Herr  Doktor  shook  his 
head,  and  his  heart  began  to  beat  a  little 
quicker.  He  knew  what  that  sound  por- 
tended, and  he  also  remembered  enough  to 
know  that  the  action  proceeding  must  be 
a  long,  long  way  off. 

Madame  Blanc  came  out  of  her  kitchen. 
'  On  commence  a  se  hattre  la-has^  There 
was  an  undertone  of  hope,  of  fierce  joy — 
even  of  boastfulness — in  her  voice. 

He  bent  his  head  gravely.  The  expression 
on  her  face  irritated  him.  Till  to-day  he 
had  thought  her  an  excellent,  homely  woman. 
He  could  no  longer  think  her  so,  for  there  was 
an  awful  look  of  vengeful  longing  in  her  eyes. 


74  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

3 

And  during  all  that  warm,  early  September 
afternoon,  across  the  golden  haze  thrown  up 
by  the  river,  there  came  from  '  Id-bas '  the 
rolling,  muttering  roar  that  was  so  like 
thunder,  that  now  and  again  the  Herr  Doktor 
asked  himself  whether  it  might  not  be  thunder 
after  all  ?  But  whatever  this  provenance, 
these  sounds  had  a  strange,  electric  effect 
on  the  French  wounded.  They  became  rest- 
less and  excited.  Hitherto  they  had  stayed 
below ;  now,  without  asking  the  Herr 
Doktor's  permission,  two  or  three  pallid 
faces  appeared  above  the  stairway,  and  there 
was  a  look  of  strained  suspense,  almost  of 
hope,  in  the  eyes  which  avoided  looking 
frankly  into  his  face. 

There  was  yet  another  curious  change  in 
all  those  young,  wild-eyed  Frenchmen.  They 
talked  in  low  hoarse  whispers  the  one  with 
the  other,  and  once  he  heard  a  reference  to 
la  nouvelle  armee,  and  then  again  to  Varmee 
de  Versailles,  Of  what  army,  new  or  old, 
could  they  be  thinking  ?  Brave  but  unready 
France   had   put   every   man   for   whom   she 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  75 

had  proper  arms  and  accoutrements  into  the 
field  from  the  first  day. 

Prince  Egon  shared  in  the  subdued  excite- 
ment. '  It  is  pleasant  to  feel  that  we  are 
no  longer  away  from  the  whirlpool !  '  he  cried 
joyfully,  and  this  was  his  only  remark  during 
that  intolerably  long  afternoon. 

At  six  o'clock  the  sounds  of  firing  ceased 
as  suddenly  as  they  had  begun.  Four  hours' 
desultory  cannonade  ?  It  must  have  been 
a  long-drawn-out  rearguard  action. 

The  Herr  Doktor  was  sitting  up  on  deck, 

a  pocket  volume  of  Heine  in  his  hand.     He 

read  the  verse — 

Im  wundeTSchonen  Mdnat  Mai 
Als  alle  Knosfen  sprangen 
Da  ist  in  meinem  Herzen 
Die  Liehe  aujgegangen. 

And  then  he  looked  up  and  gazed  across 
the  river.  Strange,  strange  indeed,  that  love 
should  wait  till  now  to  blossom  in  his  heart  ! 

There  came  the  sound,  the  now  beloved, 
familiar  sound  of  Her  quick,  light  footfalls 
on  the  jetty,  and  a  moment  later  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  walked  on  to  the  barge. 

Leaping  to  his  feet,  he  brought  his  heels 


^e  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

together  and  bowed.  But  the  ceremonious 
words  of  inquiry  he  was  about  to  utter 
concerning  her  father's  state  were  stayed 
on  his  lip,  and  the  secret  joy  which  had 
flooded  his  whole  being  on  seeing  her  was 
suddenly  changed  to  concern,  even  distress, 
so  unlike  did  Jeanne  Rouannes  appear  to 
his  usual  vision  of  her.  Her  face  was  flushed, 
her  eyelids  reddened  by  much  crying.  The 
look  of  composure,  of  dignity,  which  always 
aroused  his  willing  admiration,  if  also  his 
aching  sense  of  her  aloofness  from  himself, 
was  gone,  and  now  there  was  something 
appealing,  as  well  as  piteous  and  even  help- 
less, in  the  face  into  which  he  was  gazing. 

*  I  have  come  to  ask  you,'  she  said  abruptly, 
and  in  English,  '  if  you  will  give  me  a  little 
of  your  small  store  of  morphia  or  laudanum  ? 
My  father  is  now  in  constant  pain — I  fear 
he  is  far  more  ill  than  he  will  admit  is  the 
case.  I  am  very,  very  anxious  about  him.' 
She  uttered  the  words  with  quick,  nervous 
haste,  lowering  her  voice  as  she  spoke. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  thought  there 
could  be  any  fear  of  his  refusing  her  request  ? 
Apparently   there  was,  for,   '  I  know  you  do 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  77 

not  like  to  diminish  your  store  of  narcotics. 
But  from  what  I  understand  a  quite  small 
amount  might  lessen  the  pain  my  father  is 
enduring.' 

She  had  moved  away  from  the  middle 
of  the  deck,  and  they  were  standing,  side 
by  side,  on  the  river  side  of  the  barge.  As 
she  spoke  she  did  not  look  at  the  man  by 
her  side,  instead  she  stared  straight  before 
her,  and  he  saw  the  tears  well  up  into  her 
tired  eyes,  and  roll  down  her  pale  cheeks. 

'  Would  it  not  possible  be,'  he  asked, 
'  for  me  your  father  to  see  ?  ' 

'  No.  That  is  quite  impossible.  But  I 
thank  you  for  thinking  of  doing  so.' 

'  But  if  you  tell  him  that  to  the  Red 
Cross, — that  splendid,  so-entirely-neutral  and 
internationally-universal  institution — I  too 
belong  ?  Surely  would  he  then  consent  me 
to  see  ?  ' 

She  shook  her  head.     *  The  truth  is  that — 

that '     She  stopped,  and  he  said  '  Yes  ? ' 

interrogatively,  encouragingly.  '  The  truth 
is  that  my  poor  father  had  a  most  unfortunate 
experience  with  some  German  Red  Cross 
doctors  ! ' 


78  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  With  German  doctors,'  he  repeated,  dis- 
comfited.    '  That  very  strange  is.' 

*  Yes,  it  was  strange — strange  and  most 
unfortunate,  as  matters  now  are ;  for  it 
makes  me  feel  that  I  do  not  dare  propose 
your  visit  to  him.' 

The  Herr  Doktor — or  so  it  seemed  to 
the  girl  standing  by  his  side — fell  into  an 
abstracted  silence.  She  respected  his  mood 
for  a  few  moments,  then  she  asked  timidly, 
in  a  voice  very  different  from  that  which  he 
had  ever  heard  issue  from  her  proud  lips 
before,  '  I  suppose  your  medical  stores  are 
at  the  Tournebride  ?  ' 

He  looked  round  eagerly.  *  No,'  he  said 
quickly.  *  I  have  them  here,  in  the  motor 
ambulance,  and  what  necessary  is,  go  I  at 
once  to  procure.  But,  gracious  miss !  There 
has  come  to  me  a  thought  which  I  find  most 
illuminating,  a  thought  which  I  you  earnestly 
beg  very  carefully  before  you  it  reject  to 
consider.  With  my  medical  stores  possess 
I  naturally  operation  overalls.' 

He  stopped  for  a  moment,  as  if  anxious 
to  give  himself  time,  then  went  on  hurriedly  : 
*  Would  it  not  possible  be  for  me  to  put  on 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  79 

an  overall  (it  covers  entirely  my  'feld-grau* 
uniform)  and  then  an  English  doctor  to 
represent  by  the  bedside  of  your  honoured 
father  ?  He  surely  would  not  object  an 
English  or,  better  still,  a  Scotch  colleague 
to  see  ?  ' 

*  That,'  she  said,  and  drew  a  long  breath, 
*  is  very  true.' 

And  as  he  gazed  at  her  with  an  earnest, 
longing  look  of  the  inner  meaning  of  which  she 
was,  as  he  well  knew,  utterly  unconscious, 
he  saw  surprise  and  indecision  give  way  to 
hope  and  relief. 

'  But  are  you  willing  to  do  that  ?  '  she 
asked.  '  Would  it  not  be  very — very  dis- 
agreeable   for    you    to    carry    through    such 

a — a. '   Her   English   failed   her,  and  she 

uttered  a  word  of  which  he  was  ignorant, 
and  could  only  guess  the  meaning — •'  to 
carry  through  such  a  supercherie  ?  '  she  said. 

He  answered  eagerly,  '  There  is  nothing 
I  would  not  do ' —  and  then  he  checked  him- 
self, and  substituted  for  what  he  had  been 
going  to  say,  the  words,  '  for  a  French 
colleague.  Absolutely  easy  will  it  be,'  he 
went    on    confidently.     '  You    will    him    tell 


8o  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

that  I  very  little  French  know — which  indeed 
the  truth  is.' 

Even  as  he  spoke,  her  woman's  wit  was 
hard  at  work.  '  I  will  write  my  father  a 
note,'  she  said,  '  and  send  it  by  Therese. 
Then  he  will  not  be  able  to  say  "  No  "  to  me, 
and  I  on  my  side  shall  not  have  the  pain  of 
speaking  a  lie  to  him  face  to  face.' 

The  Herr  Doktor's  face  relaxed  into  a 
smile ;  women,  so  he  reflected,  were  the 
same  all  the  world  over — in  France  as  in 
Germany.  He  took  out  of  his  breast  pocket 
a  neat  letter-case,  of  which  he  had  made  no 
use  since  his  arrival  in  Valoise.  Deferentially 
he  handed  it  to  her,  and  then  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  her  write  a  letter  on  his 
note-paper.  '  Do  you  think  that  will  do  ?  ' 
she  said.  And  he  read  over  slowly  and 
carefully  the  short,  clear  French  phrases. 

'  My  dear  Father, — An  English  doctor 
has  joined  the  Red  Cross  barge.  I  much 
desire  that  he  should  see  thee.  I  will  bring 
him  with  me  in  an  hour.  As  far  as  I  can 
judge  he  is  experienced. 

'Thy 

'Jeanne.' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  8i 

'  Most  excellent,  honoured  miss !  And 
only  one  little  word  not  absolutely  true  is  !  ' 
He  ventured  a  smile.  She  smiled  back  with 
the  words,  '  But  it  is  a  very  important  word 
—  "  English  "  !  '  And  then  she  wondered 
why  his  face  altered  and  stiffened  into  such 
frowning  gravity ;  the  English,  after  all, 
were  no  more  the  Herr  Doktor's  enemies 
than  were  the  French. 


4 

They  sped  along,  two  white,  ghost-like 
figures,  in  the  darkness.  Every  light  in  the 
little  town  was  already  extinguished,  or 
hidden  behind  high  walls  and  closely  drawn 
curtains.  Valoise  only  asked  to  be  forgotten,  to 
be  obliterated  from  the  map,  while  the  awful 
tide  of  war  swayed  and  swept  on,  within 
some  twenty  miles  of  the  town,  towards  Paris. 

Jeanne  Rouannes  walked  as  swiftly  and 
unfalteringly  as  if  it  had  been  broad  day- 
light through  the  steep  byways  and  up  the 
roughly  paved  alleys  leading  to  the  Haute 
Ville.  But  it  seemed  a  long  time  ere  they 
emerged  into  a  street,  lighted  by  one  twinkling 


82  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

lamp  which  swung  suspended^over  the  centre 
of  the  highway. 

'  You  are  interested  in  the  Revolution  ?  ' 
she  said  in  English.  '  Well,  thirty  people 
were  hung  in  this  street,  from  where  that 
lamp  now  swings,  a  hundred  and  twenty 
years  ago.  That  was  the  meaning  of  "  ^ 
la  lanterne  !  "  ' 

*  Ach  ! '  exclaimed  the  Herr  Doktor,  gaz- 
ing upwards.  '  That  truly  informative  is  !  ' 
And  while  he  uttered  these  words  he  was 
telling  himself — that  secret  self  to  whom  each 
of  us  tells  so  many  amazing,  unexpected, 
tragic  and,  yes,  sometimes  such  delicious 
things — that  this  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ever  spoken  to  him,  of  her  own  volition,  on 
any  subject  which  lay  quite  outside  her  Red 
Cross  work.  That  she  had  done  so  made 
him  feel  exultant,  absurdly  happy.  Soon, 
quite  soon,  every  barrier  would  surely  be 
down  between  their  two  hearts.  .  .  . 

She  moved  on  a  few  steps,  and  then 
stopped  in  front  of  an  aperture  sunk  far 
back  in  the  wall  which  ran  to  the  right  of 
the  historic  lantern. 

'  We  have  arrived,'  she  said,  and  turning 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  83 

the  handle  of  the  door,  she  stepped  back  to 
allow  him  to  pass  through  first. 

He  waited  awkwardly  for  a  moment. 
'  Won't  you  the  way  lead  ?  '  he  asked  ;  and 
quickly  she  walked  past  him  into  a  garden 
which  in  the  darkness  seemed  illimitable. 
Sweet  pungent  scents  rose  and  mingled  from 
each  side  of  the  narrow  flagged  path,  and  to 
his  moved  and  ardent  imagination  it  was  as 
if  Nature  herself  was  offering  the  homage  of 
her  incense  to  the  French  girl  now  leading 
him  into  the  sanctuary  of  her  home. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  small  low  house  rise 
whitely  before  him ;  a  door  opened,  and  a 
shaft  of  yellow  light  illumined  the  short, 
broad  figure  of  the  old  woman  servant, 
Therese,  for  in  her  hand  she  held  a  lamp  with 
a  gay  Chinese  shade  over  it. 

Mademoiselle  Rouannes  called  out,  '  Here 
we  are,  Therese !  '  Then  she  turned  round 
to  her  companion.  '  If  you  will  kindly  wait 
in  my  salon  for  a  moment,  I  will  go  and  tell 
my  father  that  you  are  here,'  she  said  in  a 
low  voice. 

Her  white  figure  melted  into  the  darkness 
and  he  followed  the  servant  down  a  passage, 


84         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

and  into  what  was  evidently  the  only  sitting- 
room  of  the  little  house.  Then  Therese  shut 
the  door  on  him,  and  the  Herr  Doktor  began 
looking  about  him  with  eager  curiosity. 

The  room  was  not  gay  and  bright  as  he 
would  have  thought  to  find  a  young  French- 
woman's salon.  Rather  was  it  simple  and 
austere.  The  few  pieces  of  furniture  were  of 
the  First  Empire  period,  of  mahogany  and 
brass,  covered  with  bright  green  silk  which 
with  time  had  become  dulled  in  tint,  and  even 
frayed.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a 
marble-topped  round  table  on  which  stood 
a  lamp,  fellow  to  that  which  old  Therese  had 
held  in  her  hand.  On  the  round  table  lay 
several  books,  and  a  magazine,  the  '  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes,'  to  which  the  Herr  Doktor 
in  the  now-so-far-away  days  of  peace  had 
been  a  subscriber. 

He  bent  down  and  looked  at  the  familiar 
orange  cover.  It  bore  the  date  of  August  i. 
Idly  he  looked  at  the  table  of  contents  : 
no  prevision,  no  suspicion  even,  of  the  com- 
ing cataclysm !  He  wondered  whether  the 
number  of  August  15  had  been  published. 
He  thought  it  unlikely. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  85 

He  turned  away  from  the  table,  and 
looked  up  and  about  him.  Above  a  narrow, 
straight  settee  hung  two  charming  eighteenth- 
century  pastels — that  of  a  young  man  in  a 
blue  and  silver  uniform,  and  that  of  a  slim, 
pale  girl  with  powdered  hair.  She  had 
a  wistful  and  yet  a  proud  little  face,  and 
it  pleased  the  Herr  Doktor  to  trace  in 
this  portrait  a  resemblance  to  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  he  felt  a 
slight  shock  of  disappointment  at  seeing 
that  it  was  old  Theresc,  and  not  her  young 
mistress,  who  had  come  for  him.  Stepping 
lightly,  he  followed  her  up  a  shallow  staircase, 
and  so  to  a  landing  on  the  first  floor. 

Jeanne  Rouannes  was  standing  there, 
waiting  for  him.  She  had  changed  from  her 
white  uniform  into  a  black  gown,  and  this 
change  of  dress  altered  her  strangely.  It 
made  her  look  younger,  slenderer,  paler, 
more  beautiful  even  than  before  in  the  Herr 
Doktor's  eyes,  for  it  intensified  her  peculiar 
fairness,  and  deepened  the  fire  in  her  blue  eyes. 

Perhaps  something  in  his  face  showed 
his    surprise,    for    she    said    in    English,    and 


86  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

in  a  very  low  voice,  *  I  never  wear  my  Red 
Cross  dress  when  I  am  with  my  father.     It 

disturbs  him — makes  him  remember '  and 

then,  without  finishing  her  sentence,  she 
pushed  open  a  red-baize  door,  and  beckoned 
to  him  to  follow  her.  As  he  did  so,  she  put 
her  finger  to  her  lips  and  whispered,  '  Wait 
here  a  moment ' 

From  where  he  stood,  just  within  the 
door,  he  could  see  only  one  half  of  the  room, 
and  that  half  bare,  save  that  the  walls  were 
lined  with  books  set  on  mahogany  shelves. 
Standing  at  right  angles  across  the  one 
corner  visible  from  the  door  was  a  writing- 
table,  covered  with  grey  cloth.  A  high 
screen  to  his  left  hid  the  rest  of  the  room. 

The  Herr  Doktor's  heart  began  to  beat 
quickly.  He  told  himself  that  he  was  about 
to  enter  into  the  very  heart  of  her  life — to 
take  an  amazing  step  forward  in  his  intimacy 
with  her.  .  .  . 

A  word  or  two  was  whispered  behind  the 
screen,  and  then  she  came  for  him.  As 
together  they  walked  forward  into  the  room, 
she  exclaimed,  in  French  of  course,  *  Papa, 
I  bring  you  the  kind ' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  87 

But  the  words  were  cut  across  by  the 
leonine-looking,  grey-haired  man  sitting  up 
in  bed.  '  Welcome  ! '  cried  Dr.  Rouannes 
heartily.     He  stretched  out  both  his  hands. 

*  Welcome,  my  dear  colleague — nay,  I  should 
now  say,  my  dear  ally  !  My  daughter  tells 
me  that  you  speak  French.  Unhappily  I  do 
not  know  your  splendid  language,  but,  as  you 
see,  Jeanne  was  taught  English.  For  some 
years  after  the  death  of  my  beloved  wife, 
we  had  living  with  us  a  charming  person, 
our  excellent  Miss — Miss ' 

'  Miss  Owen,'  said  Mademoiselle  Rouannes 
quietly. 

'  Yes,  yes.  Miss  Owen ! '  He  waited  a 
moment ;  then  he  looked  up  at  his  daughter. 

*  My  little  girl,'  he  said,  and  there  was  a  very 
tender,  caressing  inflection  in  his  resonant 
French  voice,  '  I  will  now  ask  you  to  go 
downstairs  while   I   confer  with   our   friend.' 

With  a  curiously  impulsive  gesture  she 
clasped  her  hands  together.  '  But  no, 
father ! '  she  exclaimed.  '  Remember  that  I 
am  your  nurse  !  Surely  you  will  let  me  stay  ?  ' 
She  looked  beseechingly,  not  at  her  father,  but 
at  the  silent  man  now  standing  by  her  side. 


88  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  Mademoiselle  your  daughter  is  an 
excellent  nurse,'  observed  the  Herr  Doktor 
awkwardly. 

The  old  man  leant  back  on  his  pillow, 
wearily.  He  had  hoped  his  English  colleague 
would  be  more  expansive,  and  '  sympathique.^ 
Also,  he  had  thought  to  see  an  older  man, 
one  who  would  understand,  without  any  need 
for  explanation,  his  point  of  view  about  his 
daughter. 

'  I  only  wish  you  to  leave  the  room  for 
five  minutes,  my  child.  One  word  I  must 
say  to  Monsieur  alone.' 

She  obeyed  without  further  demur,  and 
as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  the  French- 
man put  out  his  hot,  sinewy,  right  hand 
and  seized  the  younger  man's. 

'  Not  a  word  !  '  he  exclaimed  in  a  hurried 
whisper.  '  Not  a  word,  you  understand,  of 
the  truth  for  her  !  Gangrene  has  set  in. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  done  now — it's  too 
late.  Why  I  consented  to  see  you  was, 
first,  to  procure  for  myself  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  an  English  confrere  (an  honour 
as  well  as  a  very  great  pleasure,  I  assure 
you) — and  then  with  the  hope  that  you  were 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  89 

likely  to  know  some — what  shall  I  say  ? — 
palliative — ay,  that's  the  word  ! — to  make 
things  less  painful  for  her,  as  well  as  for  me 
too,  when  comes  the  end.' 

The     Herr     Doktor     nodded     his     head 
understandingly. 

'  I  tell  you  this,'  went  on  the  other  quickly, 
'  because  my  daughter,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  knows 

nothing   of   illness,   nothing    of    wounds ' 

He  waited  a  moment.  '  Perhaps  you  have 
a  daughter — a  child  of  your  own  ?  ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  shook  his  head. 

'  Ah  well,  at  your  age  I  too  was  not 
married  !  More,  like  you,  perhaps,  I  intended 
not  to  marry.  But,  some  day  your  heart 
will  play  you  a  trick — wait  till  then,  it's 
worth  it — and  you  will  come  to  realise  how 
carefully  one  tries  to  guard  one's  children, 
especially  one's  daughter,  from  what  is  pain- 
ful and  disagreeable.  I  could  not  prevent 
Jeanne  from  taking  charge  of  this  Red  Cross 
barge.  She  belongs  to  the  Secours  aux  Blesses 
Militaires,  and  she  has  been  through  the 
course  they  give  their  young  girl  members. 
But,  naturally,  I  should  not  have  allowed 
her   to   go   to   a    military   hospital.     A   Red 


90         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Cross  barge  is  different.  There  are  only 
convalescents  there — and  old  Jacob,  whom 
you  will  have  seen,  gave  me  his  word  that 
she  should  be  sheltered  from  anything  un- 
pleasant or — or  unsuitable.'  He  waited  a  few 
moments,  and  then,  in  a  very  different  voice, 
added  :  '  But  now,  my  dear  colleague,  we 
will  consider  my  case — otherwise  she  will  be 
growing  impatient.' 

He  drew  down  his  bed-clothes,  and  an 
involuntary  exclamation  of  concern,  of  sur- 
prise, of  regret  escaped  from  the  Herr  Doktor's 
lips. 

'  Yes,  you  see  how  it  is  with  me  ?  One 
of  those  new-fangled  injections  at  the  right 
moment  might  have  stopped  the  mischief. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  might  not.'  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  exclaimed,  '  Yes, 
there's  nothing  to  be  done  !  But  I  want  to 
know  if  your  opinion  coincides  with  mine 
as  to  how  much  time  I  have  left.  That 
is  important,  for  I  have  arrangements  to 
make.  When  I  am  gone,  my  daughter  will 
have  to  find  her  way  to  Paris,  to  her  aunt. 
Mademoiselle  de  Bligniere.' 

*  To    Paris  ?  '     The    Herr    Doktor    could 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         91 

not  keep  the  amazement  he  felt  out  of  his 
voice. 

The  old  man  looked  up  at  him  quickly. 
'  Yes,  my  dear  colleague,  to  Paris — why  not  ? ' 

*  But— but '  The  Herr  Doktor  red- 
dened, then  very  quietly,  even  deprecatingly, 
he  said,  '  But,  Monsieur  le  Docteur — the 
Germans  ?     Will   they  not   in   Paris   be  ?  ' 

'  No,'  said  Dr.  Rouannes  confidently. 
'  They  will  be  kept  out  of  Paris.  I  only 
wish    she — aye,    and    I    too — were    in    Paris 


now 


I  ' 


There  was  a  pause,  a  rather  painful 
pause,  between  the  two  men. 

'  You  do  not  believe  what  I  say  about 
Paris  ?  '   said   Dr.    Rouannes   abruptly. 

'  No,  I  regret  to  say  that  I  cannot  your 
opinion  share.'  The  Herr  Doktor  forced 
himself  to  say  the  words. 

*  You  do  not  know  Joffre.'  The  old 
doctor  looked  up  at  him  reflectively.  '  Very 
few  people  know  Joffre — I  do.  We  were  at 
school  together.  I  saw  him  not  so  very  long 
ago.  In  fact  just  before  I  was  wounded.' 
Then^^  he  called  out,  '  Jeanne !  Ma  petite 
Jeanne ! ' 


92  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

The  door  opened,  and  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  walked  in,  pale,  composed,  but 
with  lips  quivering  piteously. 

'  Do  not  look  so  anxious,'  said  her  father 
quickly.  '  As  I  have  always  told  you,  there 
is  no  mystery  about  my  condition — none  at 
all !  My  English  colleague  agrees  with  me 
that  it's  a  very  nasty  wound.  Well,  you 
know  that  already  !  I'm  not  as  young  as 
I  was — that  is  against  me  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  I'm  a  very  healthy  man.  You  are 
not  to  trouble  about  me  one  way  or  the 
other.  Certain  things  which  we  are  lacking 
this  gentleman  will  provide  out  of  his  stores. 
The  English  ambulance  service  is  the  best 
in  the  world.' 

And  then  the  Herr  Doktor  made  his  one 
mistake.  '  Nein,  nein  ! '  he  muttered.  And 
then  he  felt  his  heart  stand  still. 

But  his  new  patient  had  not  heard  the 
protest.  In  a  stronger,  heartier  voice  he 
exclaimed,  ^  Ah  yes,  that's  right !  I  wondered 
when  it  was  coming ' 

The  door  had  opened,  and  Therese 
walked  round  the  corner  of  the  screen, 
carrying  a   tray  on   which  were   three  small 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  93 

glasses,   a   bottle  of  Malaga,  and  some  little 
dry  cakes. 

*  Do  you  mind  stopping  a  few  minutes 
and  having  a  talk  with  my  father  ?  '  Jeanne 
Rouannes  spoke  in  English.  '  It's  very ' — 
she  hesitated  for  a  word,  then  found  it — 
'  it's  very  dull  for  him  when  I  am  away  all 
day.' 

Eagerly  the  Herr  Doktor  sat  down. 

*  And  now,'  exclaimed  the  patient,  '  we 
will  forget  illness  and  trouble  !  We  will  talk 
of  the  glorious  British  Army,  and  of  your 
ships — that  splendid  navy  which  encircles 
and  guards  our  shores.  What  would  the 
Little  Corporal  have  said  to  all  this,  hein  ?  ' 
Then  more  seriously  he  went  on,  *  I  was  put 
out  of  action  almost  at  once,  and  that  is  why 
I  saw  nothing  of  my  British  confreres.  I 
regret  to  say  that  I  did  see  something  of 
the  German  doctors ' — the  colour  rushed 
into  his  face,  flamed  over  his  broad  forehead, 
and  up  to  the  roots  of  his  white  hair. 

'  Father  ! '  said  his  daughter  imploringly, 
'  Father,  be  calm  ! ' 

'  I  am  calm — I  am  absolutely  calm ! 
But  I  must  tell  our  friend  of  my  experience, 


94  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

if  only  because  it  will  show  him — it  will 
show  him ' 

'  Father ! '  she  said  again,  '  why  talk  of 
it  now  ?     It  will  only  excite  you  unduly.' 

*  No,  it  does  not  excite  me — not  in  the 
least !  Our  English  friend  here  will  be 
interested — deeply  interested — in  my  story. 
It  is  one  which  should  be  published  in  ' — 
he  waited  a  moment,  then  brought  out 
triumphantly  the  name — '  yes,  the  Lancet — 
it  should  be  written  in  the  Lancet.  Perhaps 
M.  le  Docteur  will  himself  write  it  ?  ' 

He  stopped  short,  and  looked  inquiringly 
at  the  man  sitting  by  his  bedside. 

'  Most  certainly  will  I  it  do,  my  dear 
confrere.'  As  he  spoke  the  lying  words, 
Max  Keller  looked,  not  at  the  old  man  in 
bed,  but  at  Mademoiselle  Jeanne,  and  there 
was  a  kindly,  steady,  reassuring  expression 
in  his  eyes. 

She  had  grown  scarlet  with  annoyance, 
with — was  it  fear  ?  The  Herr  Doktor  longed 
to  reassure  her,  to  make  her  feel  at  ease. 
How  little  she  understood  the  self-control, 
the  generosity,  the  masculine  good  sense  of 
the    German    character !     As    if    he    would 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  95 

or  could  mind  anything  which  this  poor, 
old,  prejudiced  Frenchman,  dying  so  bravely 
of  a  gangrenous  wound,  was  likely  to  say  or 
think  of  the  splendid  surgeons  now  adorning 
the  German  Medical  Corps  !  Courteously  he 
bent  forward  to  hear  what  the  man  in  bed 
was  saying. 

'  Yes,  my  dear  confrere,  what  I  am  about 
to  tell  you  deserves  to  be  put  on  record  ! 
But  I  will  not  take  up  much  of  your  time — 
I  will  be  brief,  very  brief.' 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a 
curious    change    of    tone,    very    quietly    Dr. 
Rouannes  told  his  story.     '  It  was  a  few  days 
before  I  was  wounded,  between  two  of  the 
early   battles.     Six  of  us   had   been   sent   to 
hastily  organise  a    field  hospital ' — a    bitter 
look  came  into  his  face.     *  As  you  know,  for 
it  is,  alas  !   no  secret,  we  were  caught,  thanks 
to   our   fine   Government,   quite   unprepared. 
.  .  .  But   to  return   to  our   muttons — we   of 
the   Red   Cross   were    being   cordially   enter- 
tained by  one  of  our  generals  and  his  staff, 
when  one  afternoon  a  number  of  our  brave 
fellows  came  in  with  a  capture  !     Such  fools 
were  we,  such  quixotic  fools — it  is  not  yet 


96         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

a  month  ago,  but  we  have  all  changed  by 
now — that  we  were  angered  when  we  dis- 
covered that  this  capture  consisted  of  four 
German  ambulance  waggons,  and  of  ten 
German  doctors.' 

The  Herr  Doktor    moved   uncomfortably 
in  his  chair  ;  it  creaked  a  little. 

'  Because  we  were   such   quixotic   fools — 
and  our  general,  Monsieur,  shared  our  folly 
and  our  quixotry — we  invited  these  German 
confreres    to    join    us    at    dinner.     We    were 
sorry  for  them,   we  felt  ashamed  they  had 
been  detained.     We  intended  to  send  them 
away    next    day,    back   to    their    own    side. 
We     were     the     more     interested     in     them 
owing  to  the  simple  fact  that,  like  ourselves, 
they  had  not  yet  been  in  action — so  far  was 
clear,    they   wore    quite    new    uniforms    and 
their  equipment  was  superb.     Ah,  Monsieur, 
their    equipment  made    our   mouths    water  ! 
Another  thing  also   filled  us  with  envy  and, 
yes,  a  little  shame.     All  ten  of  these  medical 
gentlemen  spoke  French,  and  excellent  French 
too  ;    but  only  one  of  us  six  spoke  German  ! 
Fortunately    three    or    four    of    the    officers 
attached  to  our  General  spoke  German  too — 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  97 

not  perhaps  very  well,  but  still  sufficiently 
to  understand.  Fortunately,  very  fortunately 
as  it  turned  out,  tlie  one  of  us  doctors  who 
could  speak  German  was  a  very  intelligent 
man.  He  was,  Monsieur,  from  Luxembourg, 
and  some  of  his  medical  studies  had  actually 
been  carried  out  in  Germany.  Bref,  he 
spoke  German  like  a  German.' 

The  old  man  waited  a  moment.  '  Have 
patience  with  me,'  he  said  quietly.  '  It  will 
not  take  you  long  to  hear  my  story,  but 
the  preliminaries  are  important.  .  .  .  Down 
we  all  sat  to  an  excellent  dinner.  "  One 
thing  at  least  we  can  show  them,"  observed 
a  friend  to  me.  "  Our  cooking,  at  any  rate, 
is  superior  to  theirs  !  "  Our  confrere,  the 
man  who  spoke  German,  did  not  say  much, 
he  remained  curiously  silent  during  the  meal ; 
but  the  Germans  talked  a  good  deal  with  us 
other  five.  They  proved  pleasant,  for  they 
were  each  and  all  cultivated  men.  Before 
we  sat  down  we  Frenchmen  arranged  not 
to  touch  on  anything  controversial.  But,  as 
was  natural  under  the  circumstances,  we 
talked  what  you  English  call  "  shop  " — we 
talked,   that  is,  in  an  impersonal,  courteous 


98  THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

manner  of  wounds,  and  of  the  treatment  of 
wounds  ;  for  from  the  day  war  had  broken 
out  we  had  naturally  all  been  reading  up 
everything  we  could  lay  our  hands  on  about 
this  terrible  and  fascinating  subject.' 

'  You  are  getting  tired,  Father ' 

Jeanne  Rouannes  came  forward  as  she 
said  the  words,  but  the  old  man  raised  his 
voice :  '  No,  I  am  not  tired — not  tired  at 
all !  They  were  ten  Germans  to  us  five 
Frenchmen,  for,  as  I  have  already  told  you, 
our  Luxembourg  confrere  hardly  spoke  at 
all.  It  was  he,  however,  who  towards  the 
end  of  dinner  got  up  and  left  the  room,  and 
his  absence,  rather  to  our  surprise,  seemed 
to  make  certain  of  our  German  confreres 
slightly  uneasy.  More  than  one  of  them 
asked  why  he  had  thus  absented  himself. 
.  .  .  They  soon  had  an  answer  to  their 
question,  for  at  the  end  of  perhaps  ten 
minutes  he  came  back,  and  with  him  was  the 
General.  Our  German  guests  rose  to  their  feet 
with  perfect  courtesy  as  the  General  walked 
forward.  He  was  pale.  Monsieur — he  was 
pale  as  you  may  be  sure  he  never  had  been, 
he  never  would  be,  in  action.     "  Gentlemen,' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  99 

he  exclaimed,  "  I  have  to  perform  a  dis- 
agreeable task  !  Your  confrere  here  —  if 
indeed  he  is  your  confrere — is  convinced  that 
among  you  there  are  a  proportion  of  men 
who  are  not  doctors,  and  who,  to  put  it 
bluntly,  know  nothing  of  medicine.  He  is 
convinced,  gentlemen,  that  out  of  you  ten 
men  there  are  four  spies  who  have  taken 
advantage  of  the  Red  Cross  uniform  to 
obtain  information  useful  to  our  enemies. 
I  now  ask  him,  and  his  five  French  confreres, 
to  constitute  themselves  into  a  court-martial ; 
and  you,  gentlemen,  will  each  in  turn  submit 
yourself  to  a  short  cross-examination.  You 
all  speak  French  so  perfectly  that  it  will 
be  a  very  easy  matter  for  you  to  answer  the 
simple  questions  which  will  be  put  to  you."  ' 

Dr.  Rouannes  drew  a  long  breath. 

'  I  do  not  mind  confessing  to  you  that  I 
thought  this  proposal  an  outrage  !  I  had 
no  doubt  at  all  that  the  ten  men  before  me 
were  Red  Cross  surgeons.  I  come,  Monsieur, 
of  a  Bonapartist  family.  I  can  remember 
1870 — the  foolish,  senseless  cry,  "  We  are 
betrayed !  "  On  this  occasion  I  felt  as  if 
that    same    ignoble    cry    was    being    raised 


100        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

again.  "  This  Luxembourg  confrere  is  afraid. 
He  is  nervous.  He  has  the  spy  mania  !  " 
I  exclaimed  to  myself.  But  I  did  notice 
— I  could  not  help  noticing — that  of  the 
ten  men  standing  before  us  two  had  turned 
horribly  pale.  But  what  of  that  ?  Might 
not  anyone  turn  pale  when  accused  of  so 
hateful  and  loathly  a  thing  as  is  that  of 
which  those  men  were  being  accused  ?  ' 

He  paused — it  seemed  a  very  long  time 
to  his  two  listeners. 

'  Well,  my  dear  confrere — you  will  already 
have  guessed  the  end  of  my  story !  The 
two  hours  which  followed  the  decree  of  our 
General  were  the  most  painful  of  my  life. 
But  the  Luxembourg  doctor  had  made  one 
mistake.  He  had  thought  to  find  four  spies 
— Monsieur,  there  were  five.  Exactly  half  of 
these  ten  men  wearing  the  Red  Cross  knew 
nothing  of  medicine — nothing  of  surgery.  The 
fifth  man,  he  who  had  escaped  suspicion, 
was  more  intelligent  than  the  others  ;  he,  at 
any  rate,  had  taken  the  trouble  to  make  him- 
self conversant  with  certain  things  which  are 
the  ABC  of  our  noble  profession.  Perchance 
he   was    the   son  of   a   doctor — who  knows  ? 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         loi 

You  will  ask  why  we  were  so  long  as  two 
hours  ?  We  were  two  hours  because  we 
first  took  those  whom  our  Luxembourg 
confrere  believed  to  be  medical  men.  We 
put  them  through  a  very  thorough  examina- 
tion and  they  came  out  of  it  admirably. 
Then  we  took  the  others.  Ah,  Monsieur, 
that  did  not  take  long  !  We  knew  the  truth 
very,  very  soon — almost  within  the  first 
few  moments.  For  the  matter  of  that  they 
scarcely  went  to  the  trouble  of  denying 
what  we  suspected — only  the  one  of  whom 
I  have  just  spoken  tried  to  deceive  us.  They 
were  brave  men — that  I  will  say  frankly — 
those  Prussian  officers  who  had  done  so 
dastardly  a  thing.  Indeed,  Monsieur,  I  do 
not  mind  admitting  to  you  that,  in  the  end, 
I  understood  their  point  of  view  far  more 
than  I  did  that  of  the  five  medical  men 
who  had  lent  themselves  to  so  unprofessional 
an  act  of  treachery.  As  for  the  spies,  they 
were  working  for  their  country.  I  repeat, 
they  were  brave  men.  Not  one  of  them 
flinched.  A  confrere  who  had  been  attached 
to  a  medical  mission  in  the  East  said  to  me 
afterwards  that  to  him  they  recalled  fanatics. 


102        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

For  the  matter  of  that,  even  the  German 
surgeons  were  not  aware  of  the  enormity 
of  their  crime.  There  seemed  no  shame 
among  them — indeed,  as  one  of  them  put  it 
to  me  quite  plainly,  each  of  them  placed  his 
Fatherland  above  his  sense  of  professional 
honour.' 

And  then  at  last  the  Herr  Doktor  spoke. 
'  You  do  not  think  any  French  Red  Cross 
surgeon  would  such  a — a  trick  have  practised  ? ' 

And  Jeanne  Rouannes,  glancing  at  him 
quickly,  and  then  averting  her  eyes,  saw  that 
his  usually  pale  face  was  red. 

The  old  man  stared  at  him,  surprised.  He 
lifted  his  shaggy  white  eyebrows.  '  I  cannot 
answer  for  every  member  of  the  French  Army 
Medical  Corps,'  he  answered,  with  a  touch 
of  impatience.  '  But  I  can  answer  for  it 
that  you  would  not  have  found  five  men, 
nay,  not  three,  willing  to  do  such  a  thing 
in  concert.  Had  such  a  proposal  been  made 
to  them,  one  and  all,  I  am  quite  convinced, 
would  have  refused.  Further,  I  assert  that 
no  French  general  would  have  dared  to  make 
to  them  so  dishonourable  a  proposal.  The 
Red  Cross,  as  you  know,  my  dear  confrere, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        103 

is  an  international  institution  ;  if  it  is  to 
be  used  to  cover,  to  serve  military  opera- 
tions, then ' — he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
expressively. 

The  Herr  Doktor  rose  to  his  feet.  '  Yes,' 
he  said,  '  I  quite  see  it,  and  from  your  point 
of  view  you  have  right — undoubted  right  !  ' 

'  And  now,  my  dear  father,  I  had  better 
take  the  doctor  downstairs.  He  has  to  go 
back  to  the  barge.' 

Dr.  Rouannes  grasped  his  colleague's 
hand  with  both  his.  '  It  has  done  me  great 
good  to  see  you,'  he  said  heartily.  '  And 
I  am  sure  you  will  be  able  to  alleviate  the 
slight  pain  from  which  I  now  and  again 
suffer.  You  will  remember  all  I  have  told 
you  ' — the  old  man  looked  up  at  him  with 
a  touch  of  painful  anxiety  in  his  eyes,  and, 
as  he  heard  the  door  behind  the  screen  swing 
to  behind  his  daughter — '  You  will  help 
her  to  get  to  Paris  ?  '  he  muttered.  '  It 
would  not  be  safe  for  her  to  remain  alone 
here.  There  may  be  fierce  fighting  our  way 
soon.  You  have  doubtless  heard  of  our 
New  Army  ?  ' 

The   Herr  Doktor  nodded.     How  piteous 


104        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

were  these  delusions  of  the  conquered  !  He 
answered  in  all  sincerity,  *  In  every  possible 
way,  my  dear  confrere,  will  I  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  assist,  when  you  no  longer  there  to 
help  her  are.' 


PART  III 


The  cemetery  of  what  was  once  Valoise 
commands  the  wide  valley  of  the  Marne, 
and,  as  so  often  happens  in  France,  it  is  on 
the  highest  ground  in  the  town,  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  parish  church. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  of 
September  the  Herr  Doktor  was  betaking 
himself  there  to  attend  the  funeral  of  his  late 
colleague  and  patient.  Dr.  Rouannes. 

During  the  last  three  days  he  had  scarcely 

ever  left  the  house  of  the  dying  man.     No 

son  could   have    been    more    vigilantly,    un- 

wearyingly,    devoted     than     had     been     this 

German    surgeon    to    the  dying  Frenchman ; 

but  while  to  her  whose  vigils  he  shared  time 

had  seemed  to  drag  with  leaden  feet,  to  him 

the  hours  had  gone  all  too  quickly,  and  every 

moment  spent  with  the  woman  he  loved  had 

105 


io6        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

been  fraught  with  emotions  which  gained 
in  intensity  owing  to  enforced  lack  of 
expression. 

No  wonder  that  he  grew  to  care  with  an 
intimate,  caressing  affection  for  everything  in 
the  little  homestead  that  now  belonged  to 
Jeanne  Rouannes.  No  wonder  that  he  put 
far  from  him,  even  if  he  could  not  always 
wholly  forget  it,  the  fact  that  now,  at  this 
pregnant  moment  of  their  joint  lives,  their 
two  countries  were  at  war.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, he  did  actually  forget  it,  for  there  was 
nothing  to  remind  him  of  the  conflict  in  the 
still,  sunlit  little  house,  hidden  in  its  fragrant 
garden  behind  high  walls.  Even  outside 
those  walls,  along  the  quiet,  rudely  paved 
streets  and  stony,  steep  byways  of  the  town, 
there  came  no  surge  of  the  fierce,  devastat- 
ing tide  of  war  now  sweeping  ever  nearer 
and  nearer  to  doomed  Paris.  Max  Keller, 
one  side  of  his  nature  absorbed  in  what  had 
become  an  all-encompassing  vision  of  coming 
joy,  of  heart-hunger  satisfied,  another  side 
concerned  with  alleviating  the  last  hours  of 
Jeanne  Rouannes'  father,  scarcely  heard  the 
little  there  was  to  hear,  or  saw  the  little  there 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        107 

was  to  see.  He  heard,  that  is,  without 
hearing,  the  rumours,  now  glad,  now  sad, 
which  flew,  even  in  remote  Valoise,  from 
lip  to  lip.  He  saw,  without  seeing,  the 
streets  become  more  solitary  and  barer  of 
human  life,  as  those  first  September  days 
passed  by,  bringing,  as  they  always  do  in 
Northern  France,  a  wonder  of  beautiful 
autumnal  colour.  .  .  . 

And  now,  this  morning,  as  the  Herr 
Doktor  trudged  up  to  the  cemetery,  he  was 
conning  over  a  suitable  form  of  English 
words  in  which  to  tell  Jeanne  of  her  father's 
last  wish  and  injunction — that  they  two 
should  proceed  to  Paris  without  delay.  As 
to  what  should  follow  their  arrival  in  Paris 
he,  Max  Keller,  must  wait  upon  events. 
In  any  case,  he  knew  that  it  would  be  an 
easy  matter  for  him  to  afford  the  aunt  and 
niece  help  and  protection  during  the  short 
time  that  must  elapse  ere  Germany  made 
peace  with  France. 

In  one  thing,  and  one  thing  only,  he 
had  been  keenly  disappointed.  Since  they, 
together,  had  left  the  death-chamber,  Made- 
moiselle Rouannes  had  gently  and  courteously 


io8         THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

refused  to  see  him,  and  he  had  been  made  to 
feel  by  old  Therese  that  his  further  presence 
in  that  house  of  bitter  mourning  was  super- 
fluous. Reluctantly  he  had  gone  off  to  the 
Tournebride  to  find  there,  as  is  always  the 
case  with  an  empty  inn,  an  unnatural  sense 
of  peace  and  void.  Madame  Blanc  had 
the  spacious  hostelry  all  to  herself,  and  she 
spent  her  time  in  a  restless  coming  to  and 
fro  about  her  one  guest.  Of  her  two  young 
daughters  there  was  now,  to  his  indifferent 
surprise,  no  sign  at  all. 

Half  an  hour  ago  the  Herr  Doktor  and 
his  hostess  had  started  out  together,  she 
bound  for  the  parish  church,  he  for  the 
cemetery.  Soon  their  ways  had  parted,  and 
it  had  seemed  to  the  German  surgeon  that 
the  whole  remaining  population  of  Valoise, 
or  at  any  rate  all  the  old  women  and  all  the 
children  too,  intended  to  be  present  at  the 
funeral  of  Dr.  Rouannes.  He  noted,  with 
a  certain  indulgent  amusement,  that  there 
was  an  air  of  subdued  festivity  about  those 
black-clad  feminine  mourners,  for  the  French 
are  a  gregarious  people,  and  to  the  women 
walking     in     slow-moving     groups     towards 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         109 

the  church,  any  excuse  for  meeting  was 
welcome. 

Now  he  had  left  them  all  behind  him,  and 
as,  breasting  the  light  wind,  he  strode  up  the 
last  lap  of  the  stony  thoroughfare  which  led 
to  the  cemetery,  the  practical  side  of  his 
German  mind  asked  itself,  with  a  kind  of 
impatient  wonder,  why  such  a  peculiarly 
unsuitable  stretch  of  high  ground  should 
have  been  chosen. 

But  there  is  something  very  appealing, 
and  very  intimate,  in  the  final  resting-places 
of  the  French  dead,  and  the  Herr  Doktor, 
when  he  at  last  walked  through  the  gates, 
and  found  himself  in  the  strangely  situated 
cemetery  of  Valoise,  looked  about  him  with 
a  good  deal  of  sympathetic  interest  and 
curiosity. 

To  his  now  brimful-of-sentiment  heart 
there  was  nothing  jarring  in  the  ugly,  often 
even  grotesque,  mementoes  which  here  sur- 
rounded him.  In  his  present  mood  the  stone 
and  marble  hands  clasped  closely  together 
struck  him  as  exquisitely  symbolic  of  the 
highest  type  of  human  love ;  he  was  touched 
by   the    quaint    conceit    of    a    black    tablet 


no        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

bedewed  with  a  widower's  white  tears,  and 
he  gazed  with  softened  eyes  at  the  contorted 
bead  wreaths  and  crosses  inscribed  '  A  notre 
pere,'  '  Mon  cher  petit  enfant,'  '  Regrets 
sinceres,'  which  were  among  the  humbler  forms 
of  commemoration. 

While  walking  with  reverent  footsteps 
along  a  narrow  pathway,  his  eyes  were 
suddenly  arrested  by  an  English  inscription. 
Though  cut  deep  into  a  now  very  weather- 
beaten  stone  cross,  the  words  had  become 
partly  effaced.  He  soon,  however,  made  out 
their  sense  : 

On  September  29,  1870,  there  fell,  close  to  Valoise, 
three  brave  men,  nameless  German  officers.  An 
Englishwoman,  a  lover  of  Germany,  has  put  up 
this  cross  to  their  memory.     May  they  rest  in  peace. 

There  came  a  deep  frown  over  the  Herr 
Doktor's  mouth.  He  turned  his  back 
abruptly  on  the  old  stone  cross,  wondering 
bitterly  whether  the  Englishwoman  who  had 
done  this  kindly  act  was  still  alive.  If  so, 
what  must  she  now  think  of  the  treachery  of 
her  decadent  fellow-countrymen  ? 

Somewhat  ruffled  by  this  untoward  in- 
cident, he  walked  on,  till  he  found  the  deep, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        in 

roughly  made  grave  wherein  his  French 
colleague  was  about  to  be  laid. 

Above  the  now  open  vault  rose  a  miniature 
stone  chapel,  and  below  the  lintel  of  the  roof 
ran  in  gold  letters  the  words  :  '  Famille 
Rouannes.' 

Walking  slowly  forward  Max  Keller  went 
and  stood  before  the  gates,  between  which 
rose  the  pair  of  trestles  placed  ready  for 
the  cofHn. 

Four  marble  tablets  were  fixed  on  the 
left-hand  side  of  the  entrance  to  the  chapel, 
and  on  each  was  commemorated  a  member 
of  the  Rouannes  family.  Jeanne's  grand- 
father, dead  forty-five  years  ago  ;  her  grand- 
mother ;  an  uncle  who  had  died  in  childhood. 
And  then,  in  blacker,  clearer  characters,  an 
inscription  which  touched  him  nearly  : 

Dame  Emile  Rouannes,  nee  Demoiselle  Jeanne 
de  Bligniere,     Mere  aimee.     Femme  adoree. 

To  the  right  of  the  Rouannes  monument, 
a  square  aperture  cut  in  the  cemetery  wall 
commanded  a  wonderful  view,  not  only  of 
the  town  of  Valoise,  but  of  the  spreading 
plains   below.     He   went   there,    and   leaning 


112        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

over  the  low  parapet,  gazed  down  at  the 
place  where,  some  hundred  feet  beneath  him, 
was  a  little  square  from  which  fell  away  the 
grey  and  red  roofs  which  seemed,  in  their 
turn,  to  drop  sheer  into  the  valley. 

An  autumn  haze,  rising  from  the  river, 
and  from  the  many  other  smaller  waterways 
intersecting  the  woods  and  lands  beyond 
the  river,  hung  over  the  countryside.  And 
as  his  short-sighted  eyes  tried  to  pierce  the 
masses  of  shifting  mist  which  moved  over 
the  wide,  flat  expanse  of  land  below,  there 
suddenly  broke  on  the  still  air  the  sound 
of  solemn  chanting,  and  he  saw,  moving  up 
the  long  winding  street  which  led  from  the 
parish  church  to  the  cemetery,  the  funeral 
procession  of  Jeanne  Rouannes'  father. 


The  procession  was  headed  by  a  woman 
whom  he  knew  to  be  the  old  priest's  plain- 
featured  housekeeper.  She  bore  in  her  up- 
lifted arms  a  cross,  and,  immediately  after 
her,  came  Monsieur  le  Cure  himself.  In  his 
black-and-silver     mourning     vestments     the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        113 

parish  priest  of  Valoise  looked  an  imposing, 
as  well  as  a  reverent,  figure.  Behind  him 
were  eight  little  boys  in  black  cassocks,  each 
of  whom  in  his  right  hand  held  a  lighted 
candle,  which  guttered  and  spluttered  in  the 
wind.  Very  slowly,  and  pacing  in  ordered 
array,  the  priest  and  his  attendant  acolytes 
debouched  into  the  little  square. 

There  followed  a  moment  of  confusion, 
and  in  the  centre  of  a  black-robed  crowd  of 
elderly  women — of  women  the  majority  of 
whom  each  held  a  child  by  the  hand — the 
Herr  Doktor  suddenly  saw  something  which 
made  him  recoil  and  press  further  in  to  that 
side  of  the  wall  which  concealed  him  from 
the  people  below. 

On  a  rickety  low  cart,  drawn  by  a  decrepit 
pony,  was  a  large  wooden  packing-case  on 
which  some  well-meaning  hand  had  drawn, 
in  black  paint  which  still  gleamed  wetly  in 
the  sun,  a  rude  cross. 

Such  was  the  makeshift  coffin  of  Doctor 
Rouannes. 

The  colour  flamed  up  into  the  Herr 
Doktor's  face.  With  a  shock  of  shame  and, 
yes,     of    naive     surprise,     he     realised    how 


114        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

barbarous,  how  lamentable,  even  how  gro- 
tesque, can  be  the  minor  consequences  of 
Glorious  War. 

Behind  the  little  cart  and  its  untoward 
burden,  Jeanne  Rouannes,  shrouded  in  black, 
and  heavily  veiled,  walked  alone,  followed 
at  a  few  paces  by  the  two  servants  of  the 
dead  man.  Suddenly  the  cart  stopped,  and 
out  of  the  crowd  there  came  forward  eight 
very  old  men.  Stooping  down  till  their 
knees  almost  touched  the  ground,  they  lifted 
the  white  deal  case  on  to  their  shoulders, 
and  slowly,  pantingly,  began  the  task  of 
bearing  it  up  the  stony  path  which  led  to 
the  cemetery. 

The  Herr  Doktor,  shrinking  back,  in- 
stinctively held  his  breath  ;  he  feared  that 
each  dragging  moment  might  bring  with 
it  the  slipping  of  the  awkward  burden  from 
some  heaving  shoulder,  and  at  last  the  strain 
on  his  nerves  became  so  great  that  he 
deliberately  turned  away,  and  stared,  in 
wretched  suspense,  unseeingly  before  him. 

It  seemed  as  if  hours  instead  of  minutes 
passed  by  ere  he  heard  the  muttered  exclama- 
tions of  relief  :    '  Qa  y  est  !  '     '  Enfin  !  '   '  Oh, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        115 

14,  la  !  '  which  signified  that  the  eight  old 
men  had  reached  level  ground  at  last. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  the  onlooker 
left  the  embrasure  in  the  wall  where  he  had 
been  hidden.  But  no  one  glanced  his  way, 
or  seemed  conscious  of  his  alien  presence, 
and  with  aching  heart  he  gazed  his  fill  at 
the  mournful  little  procession  which  was  now 
passing  a  few  yards  to  his  left. 

The  coffin  bearers  walked  more  firmly, 
their  burden  now  better  adjusted  to  their 
frail  shoulders,  and  close  behind  them  came 
Jeanne  Rouannes. 

She  had  thrown  back  her  long  black  veil ; 
her  face  looked  as  though  it  were  of  wax ; 
alone  her  blue  eyes,  gleaming  dry  and  bright, 
seemed  alive. 

Very  soon  the  crowd  surged  up,  forming 
a  large  semicircle,  and  the  one  stranger  there 
fell  back,  on  to  the  outer  rim  of  it.  But, 
even  so,  he  could  still  see  Jeanne  Rouannes 
quite  clearly.  And  when  the  rude  case  which 
served  as  her  father's  coffin  had  been  placed 
on  the  trestles  standing  ready  for  it,  the  hard 
waxen  look  left  her  face,  a  long  quivering 
sigh  escaped  her  lips,   and  these  same  poor 

I  2 


it6        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

lips  began  to  tremble  piteously.  As  the 
tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes  and  rolled  down 
her  cheeks,  the  Herr  Doktor's  filled  in 
sympathy.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  their  tear-dimmed  eyes  met, 
and  though  he  did  not  know  it,  and  was 
never  to  know  it,  she  saw  him,  this  German 
man.  Max  Keller,  who  loved  her,  as  if  for 
the  first  time — for  the  agony  she  was  feeling 
unlocked  the  key  to  his  heart,  and  made  her 
see  therein. 

She  blushed — a  dusky,  painful  blush  of 
outraged  pride,  anger,  surprise,  and  quick 
self-examination  and  reproach.  But  no,  she 
had  done  nothing  to  deserve,  to  bring  upon  her- 
self, this  new,  this  inconceivably  outrageous 
humiliation  !  But  very  soon  the  deep  colour 
receded,  leaving  her  pale  as  she  had  been 
red,  and  it  was  with  a  composed  countenance 
and  downcast  eyes  that  she  stepped  forward 
to  perform  the  last  of  the  pious  offices  the 
Catholic  living  perform  to  the  Catholic  dead — 
that  of  sprinkling  holy  water  on  the  coffin. 

Taking  the  curiously  shaped  benitier  in 
her  right  hand,  she  raised  it  slowly  in  the 
air,  and  then,  in  startled  surprise,  she  paused. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        117 

for  all  at  once  there  rose  above  the  silent 
crowd,  almost  entirely  composed  of  old  women 
and  little  children,  a  long  drawn-out,  sibilant 
scream. 

Only  one  of  those  now  gathered  there, 
in  that  wind-swept  cemetery  of  Valoise,  knew 
what  that  sinister  sound  portended  ;  so  well 
indeed  did  he  know  it  that  instinctively  he 
made  a  movement  as  if  to  throw  himself  on 
the  ground.  But  he  restrained  the  impulse. 
And  as  Jeanne  Rouannes  waited  uncertainly, 
the  women  round  her  gazed  up  into  the  sky 
from  whence  came  the  strange  sound.  Like 
her,  they  were  all  startled  and  surprised 
rather  than  afraid. 

Then  came  a  muffled  sound  of  explosion  ; 
an  acrid  smell  floated  on  the  light  wind, 
and  the  Herr  Doktor,  glancing  round,  saw 
that  the  missile  had  struck  the  further  wall 
of  the  enclosure. 

The  priest  raised  his  hand.  '  I  think  it 
is  only  a  stray  shell,'  he  called  out  in  a  loud 
voice.  '  Do  not  be  frightened,  my  children. 
Go  home  quietly,  and  take  to  your  cellars, 
in  case  others  follow  it.' 

There   followed   a   general   sauve-qui-peut. 


ii8        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Mothers  and  grandmothers  took  up  their 
little  children,  and  galloped  down  the  stony- 
way,  wailing  as  they  ran.  Alone  among  the 
women  there  Jeanne  Rouannes  remained 
quietly  standing  in  front  of  her  father's 
bier.  As  for  the  old  priest,  he  moved  quickly 
to  the  aperture  in  the  wall  from  whence  the 
country  below  lay  spread  out  map-wise, 
and  the  Herr  Doktor  followed  him. 

Both  men  bent  down  over  the  parapet, 
and  then  each  straightened  himself  and 
looked  at  the  other  quickly,  furtively,  to  see 
f  what  he  had  seen  was  indeed  there,  and 
no  delusion  bred  of  a  weary  and  excited 
brain. 

The  Route  Nationale,  which  followed  the 
course  of  the  river  at  the  bottom  of  the  town, 
was  dark  with  moving  masses  of  artillery,  of 
motor  wagons,  horses,  and  men.  The  long 
sinuous  coil  was  slow  moving,  yet  there  was  an 
air  of  haste  and  of  disorder  about  it.  With  an 
uneasy  sense  of  surprise  and  discomfort  the 
Herr  Doktor  gradually  began  to  realise  that 
they  were  his  own  countrymen  hastening  thus 
in  the  wrong  direction — away  from  Paris, 
instead  of  towards  it. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  119 

Even  as  the  two,  the  Frenchman  and  the 
German,  looked  amazedly  down,  the  dark, 
thick  line  halted,  broke,  and  swerved  ;  it  was 
clear  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  troops  com- 
posing it  would  be  over-running  all  Valoise. 

The  priest  turned  to  the  man  standing 
by  his  side.  '  The  Germans  have  come 
back,'  he  said,  and  there  was  a  note  of  deep 
sadness  in  his  voice.  '  They  are  in  great 
force,  and  I  trust,  Monsieur,  that  you  will 
help  me  to  keep  order  in  my  poor  town.' 

'  The  town  has  nothing  to  fear.'  The 
Herr  Doktor  spoke  in  a  loud  voice.  His 
nerves  were  taut.  The  other's  tone,  at  once 
commanding  and  appealing,  irritated  him. 
'  With  every  consideration  will  you  treated 
be,'  he  said  stiffly.  '  I  will  myself  go  and 
the  Commandant  seek  out.' 

The  old  priest,  glancing  round,  saw  that 
Jeanne  Rouannes  was  practically  out  of 
earshot.  Approaching  yet  closer,  he  said 
urgently,  '  I  also  trust  to  you.  Monsieur  le 
Medecin,  to  make  a  special  effort  to  protect 
that  poor  girl,  and  I  appeal  to  you  to  tell 
me  now,  at  once,  if  she  will  be  safer  with 
you   or  with   me  ?     In   any  case   it   is   clear 


120        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

she  must  go  home  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
assume  there  once  more  her  Red  Cross 
uniform.     That  in  itself  is  a  protection.* 

The  Herr  Doktor  looked  straight  into 
the  face  of  the  priest.  He  saw  there  fear, 
horror,  and  indignation  struggling  for  mastery. 
Very  different  had  been  the  attitude,  the 
appearance,  of  Monsieur  le  Cure  when  they 
had  first  met  on  that  August  day,  nearly 
three  weeks  ago,  when  the  Uhlans  had  taken 
peaceful  possession  of  Valoise  !  Then  there 
had  been  no  sign  of  fear  on  the  priest's  face, 
and  that  though  he  had  absurdly  supposed 
himself  to  be  about  to  be  led  out  and  shot. 
But  now  ?  Now  the  old  Frenchman  did 
look  afraid. 

As  for  a  moment  the  Herr  Doktor 
remained  silent,  the  other  repeated,  with  a 
touch  of  angry  impatience  and  urgency  in 
his  voice — '  What  is  it  you  advise  ?  What 
do  you  believe  will  be  best  for  the  protection 
of  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  ?  I  beg  of  you 
to  tell  me  !  There  is  no  time  to  lose — soon 
it  will  be  too  late  for  me  to  do  anything,  for 
they  will  want  me  again  as  a  hostage.' 

'  Yes,'  said  the  Herr  Doktor  reluctantly, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        121 

*  I  fear  it  is  true  that  you  an  hostage  will 
have  to  be.  But  as — as  for  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes,  she,  I  assure  you,  will  be  perfectly 
safe  !  Of  her  to  ask  that  she  should  her 
Red  Cross  dress  again  put  on,  that  could 
I  not  on  the  day  of  her  father's  funeral  do. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  reason  why  she  again 
should  to  the  barge  go  down.  The  men 
whom  I  have  been  compelled  as  prisoners 
to  keep  down  there  are  nearly  well,  and  she 
has  never  my  own  patient  nursed.' 

His  French  was  poor  and  halting,  but 
the  old  priest  understood  it  well  enough 
to  be  filled  with  dismay  at  such — such  an 
obstinate  blindness  ! 

*  Is  it  possible  you  do  not  know,'  he  said  in 
a  quick  whisper, '  how  the  Prussians  have  been 
behaving  since  they  began  to  retreat — since 
there  began  that  great  battle  three  days  ago  ? ' 

The  German  surgeon  stared  at  the  old 
French  priest.  He  felt  amazed,  incredulous, 
and  yet — yet  a  gleam  of  doubt  filled  his  soul. 
*  I  have  nothing  heard  !  '  he  exclaimed.  '  You 
forget  that  I  the  last  few  days  constantly 
with  Dr.  Rouannes  have  been.  Why  did 
you  me  unknowing  leave  of  what  you  seem 


122        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

to  think  I  should  have  known  ?  Even  now 
I  do  not  what  you  mean  understand.  And 
I  must  of  you  request  to  tell  me  what  it  is 
you  believe  ?  ' 

But  even  as  he  asked  the  question  the 
Herr  Doktor's  mind  had  rushed  back  to 
many  apparently  insignificant  happenings  of 
the  last  few  days.  .  .  . 

All  through  those  days  there  had  arisen 
an  unwonted  stir  outside  the  little  house 
where  he  was  engaged  in  so  skilfully  tending 
a  dying  man.  Along  the  quiet,  sunny  Rue 
des  Jardins  there  had  been  an  incessant 
coming  and  going  of  peasant  women  pouring 
into  Valoise  from  the  surrounding  country. 
He  also  remembered  now  that  a  group  of 
girls,  crying  bitterly,  had  come  to  see 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes,  and  that  old  Therese 
had  informed  him  that  they  belonged,  like 
Mademoiselle  herself,  to  a  Sodalite,  or 
religious  society,  and  that  they  were  leaving 
the  town. 

But  he,  Max  Keller,  had  been  too  absorbed 
in  his  dying  patient,  and  in  that  dying 
patient's  daughter,  to  give  any  thought  at  all 
to  what  was  going  on  in  Valoise,  outside  the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         123 

house  and  walled  garden  where  he  spent  so 
many  hours  of  each  day. 

*  There  has  been  a  great  battle,'  went  on 
the  priest  quickly,  '  nay,  a  series  of  battles, 
In  which  your  armies  have  been  turned 
back — back  from  the  very  gates  of  Paris  ! 
I  regret,  Monsieur,  to  be  the  one  to  give 
what  to  you  must  be  bad  tidings ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  shook  his  head  im- 
patiently. He  did  not  believe  a  word  of  the 
old  Frenchman's  incredible  statement.  It 
was  possible  that  some  trifling  portion  of  the 
victorious  German  hosts  had  been  caught  at 
a  disadvantage — not  likely  to  be  so,  but 
still  possible ;  and  a  temporary  check  would, 
of  course,  explain  what  was  now  going  on 
down  there  by  the  river.  .  .  . 

'But  what  was  this  the  parish  priest  of 
Valoise  was  muttering,  almost  in  his  ear, 
speaking  so  fast  and  so  low  that  he.  Max 
Keller,  found  it  hard  to  follow  him  ? 

*  And  in  their  retreat — the  retreat  which 
is  now  a  rout — I  regret  to  tell  you  that  your 
countrymen  are  doing  terrible  things  !  They 
are  burning.  Monsieur  le  Medecin,  burning 
and   sacking    as   they   go  —  terrorising    our 


124        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

population.  Sometimes  they  do  worse — far 
worse  even  than  that  !  '  He  came  nearer  to 
the  younger  man,  and  more  slowly,  more 
calmly,  he  said :  '  Four  days  ago,  I  arranged 
to  send  most  of  the  young  girls  away  from 
Valoise.  They  had  to  go  walking,  poor 
lambs  of  the  Lord.  We  sent  them  through 
the  woods,' — he  waved  his  arm  vaguely  towards 
the  further  side  of  the  cemetery — 'where 
our  own  soldiers  are  said  to  be.  It  was  but 
a  measure  of  precaution,  and  one  urged  on 
me — I  will  do  him  that  justice — by  the 
Mayor.  He  always  believed  that  some  of 
your  soldiery  would  come  back  this  way. 
I  did  not  agree  with  him.  But  I  was  wrong 
and  he  was  right,  and  the  God  in  whom  he 
does  not  believe  will,  I  feel  sure,  reward 
him  for  having  saved  so  many  poor  in- 
nocents. But,  as  you  will  at  once  compre- 
hend, to  get  Jeanne  Rouannes  away  was 
out  of  the  question — I  did  not  even  think 
of  it.' 

And  then  the  Herr  Doktor  uttered  the 
first  insulting  words  he  had  said  in  France  : 
*  Your  Mayor,  and  you  yourself.  Monsieur 
le    Cure,    judge    Germans    by     Frenchmen. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        125 

Believe  me,  your  young  countrywomen  in 
no  danger  are.' 

Again  there  suddenly  rose  that  long 
drawn-out  whistling,  portent  of  destruction 
and  disaster,  and  this  time  the  Herr  Doktor 
rushing  forward,  called  out  loudly,  '  Prostrate 
yourself.  Mademoiselle  !  Prostrate  yourself, 
Monsieur  le  Cure  !  ' 

But  neither  of  the  two  who  heard  his 
shout  of  warning  followed  his  example,  in- 
deed the  meaning  of  his  words  scarcely  pene- 
trated their  brains.  Again  the  noisesome 
missile  struck  the  further  wall  of  the  cemetery, 
and  this  time  a  huge  fragment  of  the  shell 
hurled  itself  backwards,  to  within  a  few  inches 
of  the  head  of  the  rudely-fashioned  coffin. 

With  a  startled  cry  of  pain  and  fear 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes  shrank  back,  and 
covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

'  I  can  you  indeed  no  moment  longer 
allow  to  remain  !  '  the  Herr  Doktor  made  a 
leap  to  where  she  stood.  With  an  awkward 
movement  he  took  hold  of  her  arm,  and, 
unresisting,  she  allowed  herself  to  be  hurried 
along  the  broad  sanded  path,  and  down  the 
steep,  stony  way  into  the  deserted  square. 


126        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

3 

When  they  had  reached  the  middle  of 
the  square,  the  Herr  Doktor  slackened  his 
pace  and  looked  about  him  in  some  per- 
plexity. He  suspected  the  two  shells  which 
had  fallen  so  wide  to  be  French  shells,  and 
if  that  were  so,  there  might  soon  be  sharp 
fighting  in  the  very  streets  of  Valoise. 
Anxiously  he  began  asking  himself  which 
would  be  the  safest  shelter  for  the  girl  who 
now  stood,  silent  and  rigid,  by  his  side  ? 
Should  he  take  her  home  to  the  house  in  the 
Haute- Ville  or  down  to  the  Red  Cross  barge  ? 

Four  streets  led  out  of  the  square.  It 
was  clear  that  the  widest  must  lead  more 
or  less  straight  down  to  the  river.  It  was 
along  that  wider  way  that  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
his  sable-and-silver  vestments  flapping  in  the 
wind,  was  now  hurrying.  Staring  after  the 
strange,  solitary  figure,  the  Herr  Doktor 
bethought  himself  uneasily  of  the  old  man's 
words  of  warning.  It  might  well  be  true 
that  Jeanne  Rouannes  would  be  safer  in  her 
Red  Cross  uniform — safer,  that  is,  from  the 
discourtesy  of  rough,  stern  words.     Not  for 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         127 

a  moment  did  Max  Keller  fear  or  admit, 
even  in  his  innermost  heart,  that  his  fellow- 
countrymen  could  behave  ill  to  the  women 
of  conquered  France.  To  his  mind  such  an 
accusation  was  as  base  as  it  was  baseless. 
But  he  knew  that  many  apparently  harsh  rules 
and  regulations  had  had  to  be  drawn  up 
concerning  the  conduct  of  the  civilian  popula- 
tion. Most  fortunately  Jeanne  Rouannes, 
in  her  Red  Cross  dress,  formed  part  of  an 
International  Society,  and  thus  was  assured 
of  exceptional  respect  and  courtesy. 

And  yet  as  he  stood  there,  debating  quickly 
within  himself  what  it  were  best  to  do,  he. 
Max  Keller,  felt  a  jealous  pang  of  repugnance 
at  the  thought  of  the  young  Frenchwoman 
being  brought  in  contact  with — well,  with 
the  Prince  Egon  type  of  Prussian  officer. 
Deep  in  his  heart  he  knew  only  too  well  how 
small  was  the  measure  of  respect  that  type  of 
German  is  prepared  to  pay  to  any  pretty 
woman  with  whom  a  lucky  chance  brings 
him  in  contact.  Governed  by  that  secret, 
reluctant  knowledge,  the  Herr  Doktor  at 
last  traced  out  a  certain  line  of  conduct  for 
himself — one,  too,  which  he  believed  it  would 


128        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

be  quite  easy  to  carry  out.  That  course 
was  to  take  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  back  to 
her  own  house,  after  which,  having  left  her 
safe  with  old  Jacob  and  Therese,  he,  in  his 
official  capacity,  would  seek  out  the  officer 
in  command  of  the  troops  about  to  occupy 
Valoise,  and  obtain  a  pass  for  a  French  Red 
Cross  nurse.  With  that  in  his  possession, 
it  would  surely  be  easy  for  them  to  proceed 
to  Paris  in  his  motor  ambulance. 

'  Which  way  to  your  house  leads  ?  '  he 
asked  quietly. 

But  even  as  the  words  left  his  lips,  there 
suddenly  surged  up  a  loud,  confused,  and 
menacing  sound.  With  a  strange  feeling 
of  fear,  strange  to  Max  Keller,  for  he  was 
a  brave  man,  he  realised  that  it  was  the 
curious,  sinister  clamour  caused  by  the  un- 
disciplined tramp  of  a  crowd  of  hurrying 
men — a  sound  differing  ominously  from  that 
produced  by  the  ordered,  measured,  rhythmic 
march  of  soldiers.  .  .    . 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  tramp  of 
thudding,  shuffling  feet.  Jeanne  Rouannes 
moved  closer  to  him,  so  close  that  he  heard 
the    hoarse,    despairing    whisper    answering 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         129 

her    own    unuttered    question — '  Ce    sont    les 
Prussiens  ! ' 

'  She  was  glancing  about  her  this  way 
and  that — a  wild  spasm  of  dread,  that  of 
a  trapped  creature,  in  her  pale  face.  But 
every  window  in  the  square  had  been 
shuttered,   every  door  locked  and  barred. 

*  Shall  I  go  up  into  the  cemetery  again  ?  ' 
She  spoke  in  English,  her  lips  hardly  moving. 

The  Herr  Doktor  looked  straight  into 
her  face;  her  eyes  were  steady,  but  her  lips 
trembled,  and  her  hands  were  pressed 
together.  He  divined  the  mingled  fear  and 
shame — the  shame  and  fear  of  being  so 
horribly  afraid — which  possessed  her. 

'  No,  no — with  me  are  you  quite  safe  !  ' 

Ah  !  If  only  he  could  make  her,  his 
beloved,  understand  his  own  complete  under- 
standing of  her — if  only  he  could  lift  her 
beautiful  soul  up  into  the  ether  where  his 
own  had  dwelt  ever  since  he  had  first  seen 
her — then  she  would  know  how  secure  from 
harm  she  was  in  his  company,  and  in  that  of 
his  fellow-countrymen  ! 

But  the  time  had  not  yet  come  when  he 
could  say  even  a  millionth  part  of  what  was 


130        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

in  his  heart,  and  so  with  a  jolt  he  came  down 
to  this  earth-bound  little  French  town  of 
Valoise,  and  once  more  he  repeated  re- 
assuringly, '  With  me  are  you  quite  safe.' 
And  indeed  he  believed  what  he  said.  He 
had  no  fear  but  that  his  fellow-countrymen, 
even  if  drunk  with  victory,  aye,  and  perchance 
with  good  French  wine  as  well,  would  respect 
his  uniform,  and  the  presence  of  the  mourning 
lady  by  his  side. 

But  even  so,  as  nearer  and  nearer  came 
the  sound  of  trampling  feet,  of  loud,  confused 
talk,  there  did  come  over  the  Herr  Doktor's 
mind  a  disagreeable  recollection  of  the  old 
priest's  hurried,  broken  account  of  the  looting 
and  the  drinking  which  were  said  to  have 
been  going  on  in  places  near  Valoise. 

It  would  be  indeed  a  misfortune  were 
Mademoiselle  Rouannes  to  see  the  noble 
German  soldier  at  a  disadvantage.  And  then, 
while  this  unspoken  fear  was  still  passing 
through  his  brain,  there  suddenly  surged  up 
one  of  the  narrower  streets  leading  into  the 
little  square  a  motley  crowd  of  grey-clad 
men. 

Soldiers  ?     Yes,    men    belonging    to    the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         131 

famous  Brandenburg  Regiment,  but  now,  to 
the  Herr  Doktor's  disciplined  eyes,  presenting 
a  sorry,  and  indeed,  a  shocking  appearance. 
Some  lacked  their  helmets,  some  their  coats ; 
a  few  still  had  their  rifles,  but  all  were  dirty 
and  unkempt. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  the  Herr  Doktor 
had  seen  soldiers  in  this  guise ;  so  had  many 
of  the  victorious  German  troops  appeared 
after  the  hard-fought  battle  of  Charleroi. 
And  yet  ?  And  yet  there  had  been  a  vast 
difference  between  those  men  and  these, 
though  he  was  not  yet  able  to  define  where 
that  difference  lay. 

When  those  who  appeared  to  be  the 
leaders  of  the  unkempt  rabble  saw  the  two 
figures  standing  in  the  sunlit  square,  their 
line  wavered,  and  some  of  them  drew  back, 
while  the  loud  talking  died  down  into  a 
surprised  silence. 

There  came  quickly  forward  the  burly 
figure  of  a  non-commissioned  officer,  one,  too, 
who  had  almost  all  of  his  accoutrement 
complete. 

*  Herr    Doktor  ?  '    he    exclaimed    eagerly. 


132        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  We  were  told  there  was  a  good  wine-shop 
up  this  way !  Can  you  direct  me  to  it  ? 
My  men  are  badly  in  need  of  food  and  rest, 
and  every  inn  in  the  lower  part  of  the  town 
has  already  been  taken  by  assault ' — he 
spoke  complainingly ;  it  was  clear  that  he 
was  labouring  under  a  sense  of  grievance. 

'  But — but  where  have  you  come  from  ?  ' 
asked  the  Herr  Doktor  in  a  low  voice.  He 
felt  bewildered  —  bewildered  and  strangely 
oppressed.  *  I  don't  understand  how  or  why 
you  are  here,  in  Valoise-sur-Marne  ?  ' 

*  And  yet  it's  clear  enough  !  '  said  the 
other  sharply.  ^  We  were  promised  good 
beds,  plenty  to  eat,  and  above  all  plenty  to 
drink,  once  we  reached  Valoise.  We  find  the 
town  practically  deserted — only  old  women 
and  a  few  children  left  in  it !  As  for  wine ' — 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  *  Just  now  the 
Mayor  was  required  to  produce  twenty  thou- 
sand bottles  of  wine.  Do  you  know,  Herr 
Doktor,  how  many  he  offers  to  provide  ? ' 
He  waited,  and  as  the  Herr  Doktor  remained 
silent,  he  suddenly  shouted  out,  '  Eight 
hundred  bottles  !  What  is  that  among  three 
thousand  men  ?     Of  course  we  excluded  the 


THE  RED  CROSS   BARGE        133 

wine-shops  as  a  source  of  supply — the  wine- 
shops were  already  emptied  before  we  managed 
to  hunt  out  the  Mayor.  Our  officers  are 
furious  !  ' 

*  The  officers  will  get  plenty  of  good  wine 
at  the  Tournebride ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  knew  now  wherein 
lay  the  difference  between  the  victors  of 
Charleroi,  and  the  men  who  stood  staring 
stupidly  before  him.  The  victors  of  Charleroi 
had  been  sober ;  these  countrymen  of  his 
were  already  more  or  less  drunk. 

But  what  was  this  the  corporal  was  saying, 
smiling  angrily  the  while  ?  '  The  Tourne- 
bride ?  Nay,  those  of  our  comrades  who 
passed  that  way  three  weeks  ago  seem  to 
have  been  locusts — what  they  couldn't  drink 
they  took  away  !  All  they  left  behind  them 
is  poison — rank  poison  !  Cheap  blue  stuff, 
and  not  a  single  bottle  of  beer  !  ' 

There  came  a  quick  stir  among  the  soldiers, 
and  they  parted  to  make  way  for  a  tall, 
fine-looking  young  officer.  But  he  also 
looked  worn,  haggard,  and  angry.  His  face 
cleared  somewhat  as  he  came  up  to  his  two 
fellow-countrymen,   and   softened  as  his  eye 


134        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

rested  on  the  black-draped,  fair-haired  figure 
who  now  stood,  with  eyes  cast  down,  and 
hands  loosely  clasped  together,  some  way 
apart  from  the  Red  Cross  doctor  and  his 
companion. 

'  I  was  told  that  I  should  probably  find 
you  up  here,  Herr  Doktor  !  A  woman  down 
by  the  river  directed  me.  Is  it  true  that 
you've  been  in  this  town  a  fortnight,  and 
that  a  number  of  our  fellows  stayed  here  a 
week  and  ate  and  drank  up  everything — the 
locusts  ?  Not  content  with  drinking  up  all 
the  wine,  it's  clear  that  they  also  took  all 
the  young  women  away  with  them  !  They 
had,  however,  mercy  on  you  !  '  With  a 
smile  and  a  slight  gesture  towards  Jeanne 
Rouannes,  he  added  a  few  joking  words 
which  made  the  hot  colour  rush  to  the  Herr 
Doktor's  face. 

'  This  lady,'  he  said  stiffiy,  '  is  a 
distinguished  Sister  of  the  Red  Cross.  It 
is  in  that  capacity  that  she  is  now  under 
my  protection  and  care.  Her  father  died 
but  yesterday.' 

The  other  had  the  grace  to  look  slightly 
ashamed. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         135 

*  Yes,  yes,'  he  said  hastily.  '  I  under- 
stand that — the  woman  by  the  river  told 
me  of  the  funeral.  But,  Herr  Doktor  ?  In 
your  place  I  should  take  this  Red  Cross 
demoiselle  straight  back  to  her  hospital,  and, 
unless  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  do  not  go 
down  into  the  lower  part  of  the  town.  When 
I  said  just  now  that  there  was  no  wine  left 
in  Valoise,  it  was  merely  a  figure  of  speech. 
Of  course,  there  is  wine  ;  in  fact  our  weary 
fellows  have  got  hold  of  a  fair  amount  but  it 
is  not  good — it  is  not  the  sort  that  we  hoped  to 
find  here  !  ' 

There  were  many  pressing  questions  on 
the  Herr  Doktor's  lips,  but  he  judged  it  best 
not  to  ask  them.  Instead  he  only  observed  : 
'  I  am  very  desirous  to  get  a  pass  into  Paris 
for  this  Sister  of  Compassion.  Her  father 
was  my  colleague,  a  doctor,  that  is,  of  the 
Red  Cross,  and  on  his  bed  of  death  I  promised 
him  to  try  and  procure  a  suitable  escort  and 
a  pass  into  Paris  for  his  daughter.  So  pray 
inform  me,  Herr  Captain,  of  the  name  of 
our  Commandant.  Where  can  I  find  him  ? — 
is  he  at  the  Tournebride  ? ' 

The    other    turned,    and    gazed    with    a 


136        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

singular  expression  at  the  Herr  Doktor. 
'  You  will  not  be  able  to  get  a  pass  into 
Paris  from  any  of  us  just  now,'  he  said  slowly. 
*  No  doubt  the  time  will  come  when  you  will 
be  able  to  do  so.  But  we  do  not  yet  hold 
the  gates  of  Paris.'  He  waited  a  moment, 
then  asked  abruptly,  '  Does  this  Red  Cross 
Sister  know  our  language  ?- ' 

'  No,  not  one  word  of  it.' 

'  Then  I  will  tell  you,'  and  even  so  he 
lowered  his  voice,  '  that  we  were  within 
one  day's  march  of  Paris  when  came  the 
order  to  make  a  turning  movement.  Do  not 
ask  me  why,  my  dear  fellow  !  I  know  less 
than  nothing  about  it — only  the  bare  fact. 
Ask  Von  Kluck  the  reason  the  next  time 
you  meet  him  !  For  the  last  three  days  we 
have  been  fighting — fighting  and,  well,  yes, 
retreating,  by  night  as  well  as  day.  That 
is  why  my  men  are  worn  out.  Yesterday 
evening  we  were  badly  surprised,  and  as  our 
fellows  ran  they  threw  away  everything 
— everything  which  could  impede  their 
flight ' 

'  Their  flight  ? '  repeated  the  Herr  Doktor, 
in  a  dazed  voice. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        137 

*  Yes,  their  flight,'  said  the  other  shortly, 
*  or  if  you  prefer  the  word,  my  dear  Herr 
Doktor,  their  rout !  But  we  shall  soon 
re-form.  It  is  but  a  temporary  check.  We 
must  not  expect  to  meet  nothing  but 
astounding  victories — such  victories  as  have 
blessed  us  hitherto — in  war.  The  British,  at 
any  rate  are  done — rolled  up,  put  out  of 
action  altogether.  It  is  a  new  French  army 
which  circled  round  from  Versailles,  com- 
manded, they  say,  by  Maunoury,  which 
upset  our  calculations.'  He  added,  lowering 
his  voice  yet  more  :  '  But  we  are  falling  back 
on  prepared  positions,  beyond  the  Aisne.' 

'  Then  are  the  French  just  behind  you — 
close  to  Valoise  ?  ' 

'  Not  very  far  off,'  said  the  other  drily, 
but  not  likely  to  enter  the  town  yet  awhile. 
We  have  found  excellent  gun  positions  up 
there ' — he  pointed  vaguely  beyond  the  ceme- 
tery— '  and  this  place  should  be  easy  to 
defend.' 

'  But  where  are  our  main  forces  ?  ' 

'  Some  have  cut  straight  across  the  front 
of  what  remains  of  the  contemptible  little 
British  army — at  least  that  was  the  general 


138        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

disposition  when  I  was  last  in  touch  with 
the  Staff.  About  those  corps  there  is  no 
anxiety,  for,  as  I  told  you  just  now,  the 
British  are  done.' 

A  gleam  of  joy  shot  across  the  Herr 
Doktor's  now  haggard  face.  And  the  other 
hurried  on :  *  So,  too,  are  the  French  who 
fell  back  with  them.  But  that  new,  fresh 
army  under  Maunoury — that  was  a  colossal 
surprise  !  Once  it  is  disposed  of,  we  shall 
renew  our  advance  on  Paris.'  He  hesitated 
for  a  moment,  and  then  the  pleasure  of 
finding  a  listener  conquered  prudence.  '  The 
Crown  Prince  did  not  come  up  to  time. 
His  army  was  to  have  joined  ours  on  Sep- 
tember 2 — Von  Kluck  was  waiting  for  him. 
There  could  be  no  final  attack  on  Paris 
without  the  "  Draufganger."  You  under- 
stand ?  It  was  our  future  War  Lord's 
perquisite ' 


The  Herr  Doktor  nodded  comprehendingly. 
Oddly  enough,  he  had  never  seen  the  Crown 
Prince,  but  from  various  things  he  had  heard 
about  him  he  supposed  him  to  be  not  unlike 
Prince  Egon. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        139 

4 

After  leaving  the  square,  the  Herr  Doktor 
and  Jeanne  Rouannes  found  every  street 
and  every  alley  barred.  And  though  the  uni- 
form of  the  '  Militar-Arzt '  generally  opened 
a  way  without  much  difficulty,  Max  Keller 
soon  realised,  with  bitter,  dumb  self-reproach, 
that  he  had  wasted  priceless  minutes  in 
asking  and  in  answering  futile  questions. 
Perhaps  because  he  had  now  spent  a  length 
of  treasure-stored  days  in  a  country  where 
time  means  at  once  so  very  much  more,  and 
so  very  much  less,  than  it  does  in  modern 
Germany,  he  was  no  longer  in  mental  touch 
with  the  type  of  human  being  created  by 
the  sinister  amalgam  of  sentimental  idealism 
and  military  discipline. 

To  a  German  officer  any  waste  of  time, 
especially  on  active  service,  is  abhorrent,  and 
during  the  half-hour  the  Herr  Doktor  and 
his  companion  had  spent  in  the  square, 
Valoise  had  been  rapidly  divided  into  districts, 
and  the  looting  therein,  as  far  as  was  possible, 
systematised.  Thus  as  soon  as  a  certain 
number  of  marauders  had  been  allowed    to 


140        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

go  through  into  it,  further  entry  to  a  street 
was  barred  ;  and  to  the  Herr  Doktor  there 
was  something  horribly  grotesque  in  the  con- 
trast between  the  sharp  discipline  enforced  by 
the  patrols  who  sealed  each  thoroughfare,  and 
the  orgy  of  thieving  and  senseless  destruc- 
tion which  they  were  apparently  set  there 
to  supervise  and  protect. 

It  seemed,  too,  as  if  Nature  herself  had 
become  a  willing  accomplice  to  the  powers 
of  evil,  for  the  bright,  delicious  sunlight, 
the  delicate  breeze  already  touched  to  an 
autumnal  sharpness,  shone  on,  and  blew 
about,  the  pitiful  heaps  of  household  plenish- 
ings which  grew  and  swelled  before  each 
doorway. 

In  tacit  agreement  the  two  fugitives — for 
such  they  now  felt  themselves  to  be — chose 
a  roundabout  way  to  the  Rue  des  Jardins  ; 
and  as  they  hurried  along,  looking  straight 
before  them,  averting  their  eyes  from  the 
sights  which  lay  to  their  right  and  to  their 
left,  the  Herr  Doktor  yet  became  conscious 
that  here  and  there  a  house  was  being  spared 
outrage.  Before  one  such  a  number  of  his 
fellow-countrymen    had    squatted    down    on 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        141 

the  cobble-stones,  and  were  engaged  in  happily 
eating  and  drinking  their  fill.  An  old  French- 
woman, with  a  pitifully  eager,  servile  manner, 
was  waiting  on  them,  bringing  out  of  the 
villa,  of  which  she  was  evidently  the  care- 
taker, armfuls  of  red-sealed  bottles  of  wine. 
And  yet,  as  he  passed  this  house  which 
was  being  spared  outrage,  the  Herr  Doktor 
quickened  his  footsteps.  Somehow  the  sight 
he  saw  there  shocked  himi  more  than  did 
that  of  greater  disorder. 

Tides  of  shame,  bewilderment,  and  pain 
welled  up  in  his  sore,  burdened  heart.  Would 
the  girl  who  now  walked,  with  quick  short 
steps,  her  head  held  high,  looking  always 
straight  before  her,  ever  forget  the  scenes 
they  were  now  passing  through  ?  There  was 
no  fear  now  in  her  face,  only  a  look  of  measure- 
less scorn,  disgust,  and  contempt.  And  it 
was  he,  rather  than  she,  who  felt  a  passion 
of  relief  when  at  last  they  emerged,  through 
a  final  patrol,  to  find  the  intersecting  web 
of  streets  composing  the  highest  lap  of  the 
Haute  Ville  still  free  of  soldiery. 

The  long,  sunny  Rue  des  Jardins  looked 
unnaturally    as     usual,    but   when    the    two 


142        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

walked  up  through  the  garden  of  the  Villa 
Rouannes,  they  saw  that  the  front  door  was 
still  locked,  and  the  green  wooden  shutters  of 
all  the  windows  on  the  ground  floor  still 
barred.  Therese  and  Jacob  had  evidently- 
been  stopped,  and  turned  back,  on  their  flight 
home  from  the  cemetery. 

*  I  think  we  can  get  in  at  the  back,  through 
the  kitchen,'  said  Jeanne,  breaking  silence 
at  last. 

She  led  him  round  the  house,  to  a  door 
which  stood  wide  open,  and  through  the 
pleasant,  exquisitely  clean  kitchen,  where  he 
had  sometimes  had  occasion  to  seek  old  Therese 
while  tending  the  dying  Frenchman. 

Together  they  walked  through  into  the 
empty  house,  and  the  Herr  Doktor  spent  the 
short  time  she  kept  him  waiting  in  walking 
restlessly  about  the  darkened  salon,  which  had 
become  so  familiar  and  so  dear. 

Each  minute  seemed  an  eternity — an 
eternity  filled  with  suspense  and  acute,  un- 
reasoning fear,  for  he  knew  that  any  moment 
he  might  hear  the  sound  of  eager,  predatory 
feet  tramping  up  the  Rue  des  Jardins  ;  and 
he    visualised    with    dreadful     clearness    the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         143 

little  fragrant  garden  filled  with  a  mob  of 
his  fellow-countrymen,  decent  enough  men 
at  home  no  doubt,  but  here,  in  their  grey- 
uniforms  and  spiked  helmets,  transformed 
into  thieves,  drunkards,  and,  he  feared,  worse. 

At  last  Jeanne  Rouannes  opened  the  door. 
She  was  clad  in  the  Red  Cross  uniform  and 
veil-like  cap  which  had  now  come  to  look 
unfamiliar  in  his  eyes,  for  she  had  never 
worn  them  in  her  father's  presence.  She  held 
a  large,  shabby  leathern  purse  in  her  hand. 
*  This  is  the  money — a  thousand  francs — 
my  father  always  kept  in  the  house.  Will 
you  take  care  of  it  for  me  ?  '  She  held  it 
out  to  him.  '  They  say  that ' —  she  hesitated 
a  moment,  then  said  reluctantly — *  they  say 
that  the  Prussians  always  look  first  for  the 
money,  and  then  for  the  wine.' 

He  took  the  purse  from  her  silently,  and 
then,  for  what  seemed  to  him  a  long  time, 
though  it  was  not  five  minutes,  she  stood 
in  the  centre  of  the  square,  shadowed  sitting- 
room.  A  little  light  filtered  through  the 
chinks  in  the  old  wooden  shutters,  and 
slowly  she  gazed  this  way  and  that,  as  if 
desirous  of  imprinting  an  image  of  everything 


144        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

that  was  there  on  her  heart  and  memory. 
But  when  they  had  left  the  house,  and  were 
walking  through  the  garden,  even  when  they 
reached  the  door  in  the  wall,  she  did  not 
once  look  back. 

They  met  with  no  adventures  on  their 
way  to  the  Grande  Place,  for  they  chose 
a  roundabout  way,  along  field  paths,  and 
under  the  glades  of  the  forest  trees  in  what 
had  been  one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  smaller 
royal  demesnes  of  old  France.  And  as  they 
at  last  came  out  from  behind  the  Abreuvoir 
the  Herr  Doktor  saw  with  silent,  intense 
relief  that  here,  too,  everything  looked  as 
usual.  The  great  open  space  before  them 
was  as  empty  of  life  and  movement  as  he 
had  always  known  it.  There  was,  however, 
one  rather  curious  exception  ;  but  it  was  a 
pleasant  exception,  for  it  lent  an  air  of  spurious 
brightness-,  even  of  cheerfulness,  to  the  scene. 
This  was  that  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
large  villas  which  formed  the  left  of  the 
Grande  Place  of  Valoise  were  now  all  wide 
open,  and  were  evidently  being  prepared  for 
the  overflow  from  the  Tournebride. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        145 

Suddenly,  however,  as  the  Herr  Doktor's 
eyes  wandered  down  the  broad  thoroughfare 
leading  straight  to  the  river,  he  saw  that 
all  was  not  quite  as  normal  in  this  part  of 
the  town  as  he  had  at  first  thought,  for  all 
the  way  down  the  hill,  every  window  of  the 
humbler  houses  had  been  battered  in ! 

An  old  woman  was  even  now  engaged  in 
carefully  sweeping  up  the  glass  in  the  road- 
way in  front  of  her  little  shop,  and  gradually 
he  became  aware  that  the  shop  itself  was 
completely  gutted,  and  that  there  was  a 
dark  yawning  hole  where  the  window,  filled 
with  toys  and  sweetmeats,  had  been. 

Once  more  his  heart  ached  with  sick 
disgust  and  pain  while  slowly  he  and  his 
companion  began  walking  towards  the  long, 
low,  buildings  of  the  Tournebride. 

The  beautiful  old  inn,  at  any  rate,  looked 
exactly  as  when  he  had  last  seen  it  that 
morning,  though  the  great  gilt  gates,  which 
had  been  closed  for  over  a  fortnight,  were 
now  wide  open.  It  was  clear  that  the  Com- 
mandant of  the  German  forces  now  holding 
Valoise  had  fixed  his  headquarters  there, 
but  the  Herr  Doktor's  eyes  sought  vainly  for 


146        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

the  sentries  who  should  have  been  standing 
at  either  side  of  the  open  gates.  This  second 
occupation  of  Valoise  was  indeed  unlike  the 
first  ! 

*  While  I  the  Herr  Commandant  inter- 
view, can  you  with  Madame  Blanc  here 
stay  ? '  he  observed  suddenly. 

As  they  passed  through  the  gates  the 
Herr  Doktor  was  sorry  indeed  to  see  that 
hundreds  of  empty  and  broken  bottles  were 
lying  under  the  chestnut  trees,  on  the  now 
wine-stained  paving  stones.  These  empty, 
broken  bottles  gave  an  untidy,  rakish  air  to 
the  shady,  stately  courtyard  where  the  first 
conquerors  of  Valoise  had  spent  such  peaceful, 
restful  hours. 

On  they  walked,  picking  their  way  among 
the  debris.     The  place  seemed  deserted. 

Puzzled,  and  feeling  at  once  relieved 
and  uncomfortable,  the  Herr  Doktor  stayed 
his  steps  for  a  moment,  and  the  girl  at  his 
side  did  so  too.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
a  sense  of  terrible  degradation  seemed  to 
soil  her  soul,  and,  as  the  moments  sped 
by,  her  companion  was  filled  with  growing 
apprehension  and  unease. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        147 

Why  was  the  Tournebride  thus  deserted  ? 
Officers,  as  well  as  the  men  who  had  drunk 
the  wine  from  the  bottles  now  lying  empty 
and  broken  about  his  feet,  had  been  here 
very  lately,  for  on  a  wooden  table  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard  were  a  dozen 
or  more  large  glass  goblets — one  even  now 
half  full  of  white  wine — and  empty,  gold- 
foiled  bottles.  There  also,  on  this  wooden 
table,  lay  the  bunch  of  keys  which  always 
dangled  at  Madame  Blanc's  ample  waist. 

Madame  Blanc  ?  Yes,  if,  as  now  seemed 
to  be  the  case,  the  Commandant  and  his 
staff  were  all  out  in  the  town,  he  could 
leave  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  with  her  while 
he  went  to  look  for  them.  In  that  thought 
he  found  a  measure  of  relief.  The  knowledge 
that  Jeanne  Rouannes  would  have  to  run 
the  gauntlet  of  the  Prussian  officers'  eyes  had 
been  hateful  to  him. 

But  where  was  Madame  Blanc  ? 

Calling  out  her  name,  he  walked  across 
to  the  half-open  door  of  the  kitchen  ;  and 
then,  suddenly,  Jeanne  Rouannes,  hardened 
as  she  had  become  that  day  to  dreadful 
sights  and  sounds,  uttered  a  low  exclamation 

L  a 


148        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

of  fear  and  surprise.  *  Great  God  !  '  she 
exclaimed  in  French,  '  what  is  that  ?  What 
is  that,  down  there  ?  ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  peered  towards  the  place 
where  she  was  staring,  and  with  eyes  which 
gradually  filled  with  pain  and  horror,  he 
saw  that  a  thin  stream  of  blood  was  oozing 
sluggishly  through  the  doorway  where  he 
had  stood  so  often  talking  to  the  French- 
woman, with  whom,  at  last,  he  had  become 
good  friends. 

He  stumbled  forward,  full  of  a  dreadful 
foreboding,  and  tried  to  push  back  the  door. 
But  it  would  only  swing  forward. 

Waving  the  girl  back  with  a  sharp,  quick 
gesture,  he  pressed  through  the  aperture,  and 
then  he,  too,  uttered  an  exclamation,  a 
hoarse  guttural  cry  of  distress,  for  just 
behind  the  door,  huddled  up  on  the  floor 
of  her  kitchen,  lay  the  dead  body  of  Madame 
Blanc. 

The  landlady  of  the  Tournebride  had  been 
shot  half  a  dozen  times,  at  close  range,  in  the 
breast,  not  struck — as  the  German  surgeon 
for  a  brief  moment  had  supposed  and  hoped 
— by  a  stray  fragment  of^shell. 


THE   RED  CROSS   BARGE         149 

*  Ach  !  '  he  muttered  under  his  teeth, 
*  this  is  bad  —  very  bad  !  '  But  Jeanne 
Rouannes,  now  standing  just  behind  him, 
remained  silent.  She  looked  as  if  the  tears 
had  frozen  on  her  face,  and  of  the  two 
she  was  the  more  composed,  as,  in  silence, 
they  dragged  the  dead  woman  a  little  further 
into  the  kitchen,  and  tried  to  arrange  her 
poor,  fat  body  into  some  semblance  of  decent 
death. 

At  last,  having  done  the  little  they  could, 
they  came  out  again  into  the  sunshine,  and 
crossed  once  more  the  courtyard  of  the 
ownerless  Tournebride.  And  still,  of  the  two, 
it  was  the  man  who  looked,  and  perchance 
felt,  the  more  affected.  In  his  companion 
all  sensation  seemed  dulled,  and  as  they 
walked  along,  perforce  traversing  many  pain- 
ful scenes — for  they  had  now  re-entered  the 
zone  of  looting  and  disorder — she  seemed 
really  unconscious  of  what  was  going  on 
about  her. 

Not  till  they  had  wandered  for  a  long 
way,  hither  and  thither,  did  they  find  the 
headquarters  of  the  Commandant  estab- 
lished   in    the    Mairie.      It    was    there    that 


ISO        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

the  Herr  Doktor  listened,  with  a  rush  of 
impotent  anger,  to  the  curt  intimation  that 
the  French  Red  Cross  nurse,  instead  of  re- 
ceiving a  pass  out  of  Valoise,  must  proceed 
at  once  to  the  German  Field  Ambulance 
which  was  already  at  work  in  the  church 
hard  by. 


PART  IV 


Still  draped  in  the  black-and-silver  trappings 
laboriously  hung  by  the  women  of  Valoise 
to  do  funeral  honour  to  Dr.  Rouannes,  the 
parish  church,  when  Jeanne  Rouannes  entered 
it,  was  already  transformed  into  a  hospital 
ward;  and,  as  she  came  slowly  back  to 
normal  conditions  of  heart  and  brain,  she  was 
amazed  to  see  all  that  these  capable,  if 
rough-looking,  German  medical  orderlies  had 
accomplished. 

Not  only  had  every  kind  of  bed  already 
been  commandeered  from  the  houses  round, 
but  through  medieval  glass  which  the  Great 
Revolution  had  spared,  the  sun  shone  on 
huge  cases  containing  every  kind  of  surgical 
requisite  ready  for  immediate  use. 

An  operating  theatre  equipment  had  been 
set  out  in  the  Lady  Chapel,  and  a  wave  of 
colour  flooded  the   French  girl's  face  when 

151 


152        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

she  saw  that  the  trestles  on  which  her  father's 
rude  coffin  had  rested  were  now  serving  as 
the  base  of  the  principal  operating  table. 
She  could  not  help  wondering  in  her  ignorance 
why  all  these  elaborate  preparations  had  been 
made,  for  the  only  wounded  occupant  of 
this  strange  war-hospital  was  a  two-year- 
old  girl,  injured  in  the  head  by  a  fragment 
of  one  of  the  half-dozen  shells  which  had 
fallen  in  the  town  two  hours  before. 

'  To  the  little  child  attend  you,'  the  Herr 
Doktor  muttered  in  her  ear.  '  I  will  ensure 
that  no  disagreeables  you  befall.  The  Herr 
Stabsarzt  is  a  good  man — perhaps  have  you 
of  him  heard,  my  gracious  miss  ;  he  is  the 
surgeon  Octavius  Mott  of  Ems.  Very  famous 
and  skilful  is  he.' 

Quickly,  and  yet  with  much  ceremony, 
he  brought  her  up  to  the  big,  shaggy, 
spectacled  German,  who  greeted  her  court- 
eously with  the  words,  uttered  in  a  French 
as  good  as  her  own,  'We  shall  have  plenty 
of  work  for  you  presently,  Mademoiselle.' 

Then,  as  Max  Keller,  in  a  quick,  rather 
anxious  undertone,  explained  that  Made- 
moiselle   Rouannes    was    the   just    orphaned 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        153 

daughter  of  a  French  Red  Cross  doctor,  the 
Herr  Stabsarzt  became  perceptibly  more 
cordial.  *  She  does  not  look  strong  enough 
for  the  labours  which  will  presently  begin. 
You  must  watch  over  the  poor  bereaved  one,' 
he  said  kindly  ;  '  she  looks  a  truly  refined, 
gentle  being,  as  well  as  full  of  French  pretti- 
ness  and  grace.  There  are  plenty  of  ugly 
old  women  in  this  town  whom  we  shall 
be  able  to  make  useful  when  the  wounded 
come  in.' 

The  Herr  Doktor's  face  became  trans- 
formed. He  could  have  knelt  and  kissed  the 
hand  of  the  great,  the  skilful,  the  so  under- 
standing and  humane  Octavius  Mott  !  The 
Herr  Stabsarzt,  looking  at  him  from  out  his 
shrewd  little  eyes,  saw  something  in  the 
plain  sensitive  face  that  touched  him.  '  So  ?  ' 
he  said  to  himself,  *  there  is  already  an 
excellent  Franco-German  alliance  established 
here  !  ' 

The  soldier  looters  of  Valoise  slept  heavily 
that  night.  Their  miserable  victims,  those 
among  them  who  had  not  fled  into  the  sur- 
rounding country,  crowded   back   into    their 


154        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

ravished,  empty  houses,  and  into  those  out- 
buildings and  stables  which  had  escaped  the 
notice  of  -the  marauders — anywhere  to  be 
free  of  hateful  and  terrifying  presences.  They 
hoped,  poor  wretches,  with  that  curious  hope 
and  faith  in  the  future,  which  in  the  French 
temperament  survives  all  material  disasters, 
and  makes  recuperation  comparatively  easy, 
that  with  the  morning  the  enemy  would 
hasten  away  from  the  sacked  town.  This, 
as  they  all  knew,  was  what  had  happened 
elsewhere. 

But,  with  the  breaking  of  the  cloudless 
dawn,  came  a  new  terror  to  the  unhappy 
people,  for  shells  again  began  dropping  into 
the  town,  and,  for  a  while  at  least,  panic 
and  confusion  reigned,  even  among  the  sated 
German  soldiery.  The  French  batteries, 
hidden  away  to  the  right  of  Valoise,  had 
evidently  obtained  trustworthy  information 
from  within  the  town,  for  their  attack  was 
carefully  directed  to  the  group  of  villas  on  the 
hill  where  the  officers  had  established  them- 
selves, but  the  church, — the  church  which 
now  flew  the  Red  Cross  flag,  and  was  still 
the  glory  of  Valoise,  was  spared. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        155 

At  last  the  French  guns  found  another 
range,  that  of  the  German  batteries,  and  as 
these  replied,  so  strange  and  so  exciting  was 
the  artillery  duel,  that  women,  and  even 
children,  crowded  into  the  streets  and,  with 
upturned  faces,  watched  the  shells  from  the 
even  then  famous  '75,  and  the  heavier  German 
missiles,  go  hurtling  by  overhead. 

And  then  very  soon,  from  the  plains  below 
and  the  woods  above  Valoise,  the  wounded 
came  pouring  in.  They  were  brought  in 
every  kind  of  vehicle,  from  the  luxurious 
motor  ambulances  belonging  to  the  German 
Red  Cross,  to  handcarts  drawn  by  donkeys 
and  by  dogs. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  hour,  Jeanne 
Rouannes  told  herself  that  there  was  no 
room  for  more.  But  on  and  on  they  came, 
in  a  terrible,  continuous  procession,  and  place 
still  had  to  be  found  for  them.  After  the  beds 
had  all  been  filled,  the  stone  floor,  hastily 
covered  with  stacks  of  straw,  had  to  serve 
as  resting-place  for  many  more.  Very, 
soon,  too,  all  the  houses,  and  the  often 
more  comfortable  stables  and  outbuildings 
of  the  town,  were  also  full  and  overfull.  .  .  . 


156        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

The  French  Red  Cross  nurse  was  ordered 
to  remain  in  the  church,  and  reluctantly 
she  found  herself  compelled  to  admire  the 
energy,  the  method,  the  quick,  if  to  her  heart- 
less, type  of  efficient  intelligence,  the  German 
surgeons  there  brought  to  their  terrible 
tasks.  In  whatever  part  of  the  church  she 
happened  to  be,  whatever  the  duty  in 
which  she  was  engaged,  during  those  hours 
of  horror  and  strain,  when  all  the  mirac- 
ulous resources  of  youth — her  fine  health 
of  body,  and  finer  stoicism  of  soul — alone 
brought  .her  through  the  awful  ordeal,  the 
Herr  Doktor  watched  over,  and  as  far  as 
was  in  his  power,  helped  her  to  perform 
her  arduous,  pitiful  works  of  mercy. 

Very  soon — so  soon  that  it  seemed  retro- 
spectively to  have  been  at  the  end  of  the 
first  morning — everything  a  normal  surgeon 
and  his  dressers  require  had  been  used 
up,  and  that  though,  by  the  forethought 
of  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller,  all  the  clean, 
looted  linen  which  had  been  put  safely  away 
for  transport  to  Germany  had  early  been 
requisitioned  by  the  Field  Ambulance. 

The   German   wounded  far  outnumbered 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        157 

the  French,  and  at  first  the  fact  had  filled 
the  French  Red  Cross  nurse  with  a  relief 
of  which  she  felt  ashamed. 

Then  suddenly  she  understood  the  strange 
disparity !  To  these  keen,  clear-thinking 
German  surgeons  their  own  countrymen  came 
first  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  the  best 
was  naturally  reserved  for  them.  They  were 
skilful,  and  as  humane  as  it  was  in  them  to 
be,  to  all  those  whom  they  attended,  but  the 
grey-clad  wounded  were  obviously  the  most 
important. 

The  knowledge  that  this  was  so  filled 
Jeanne  Rouannes  with  revolt,  and  bitter 
anger.  As  she  half  mechanically  performed 
the  duties  set  her,  she  thought  of  her  own 
shattered  countrymen,  lying  for  the  most 
part  outside  and  unattended ;  and  she  was 
filled  with  repugnance,  even  horror,  for  all 
these  Germans,  both  the  wounded  and  the 
whole,  who  lay  and  stood  about  her. 
As  far  as  was  possible,  she  lavished  the 
small  surgical  science  she  possessed,  and  the 
measureless  pity  and  tenderness  that  was 
hers  in  ample  measure,  on  the  few  French 
wounded  who  were  brought  into  the  church. 


158        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Then  suddenly  a  strange  thing  happened. 
A  dying  German,  to  whom  she  had  just  given 
an  injection  of  camphorated  oil,  held  out 
his  hand,  gropingly.  She  took  the  rough, 
blackened  hand  in  hers,  and  he  murmured 
*  Mutter,'  in  a  voice  full  of  agonised  longing 
and  entreaty.  From  that  moment  Jeanne 
Rouannes  no  longer  made,  even  in  her  inmost 
heart,  any  distinction  between  the  French 
and  German  wounded.  She  tended  them  as 
far  as  was  in  her  power,  and  in  the  measure 
of  her  strength,  with  the  same  kindness  and 
untiring  devotion. 

In  addition  to  the  wounded — the  wounded 
brought  in  from  the  scenes  of  the  fierce  rear- 
guard actions  now  being  fought  round  Valoise 
— were  the  injured  townspeople,  the  old 
women  and  the  little  children  who  became 
unwitting  targets  for  the  bombs,  the  shells^ 
and  even  the  arrows,  which  now  and  again 
fell  from  the  German  aeroplanes  circling  in 
the  air  above. 

Occasionally,  not  often,  the  French  Red 
Cross  nurse  would  obtain  permission  to  go 
out  into  the  town  to  attend  on  some  of 
them ;  and  perhaps  because  the  thought  of 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        159 

any  personal  danger  was  so  far  from  them 
both,  during  those  strange  and  terrible  days, 
the  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller  and  Jeanne 
Rouannes,  when  engaged  on  such  outside 
works  of  mercy,  met  with  none  of  the  mishaps 
which  befell  many  of  those  about  them. 

Such  trifling,  even  childish,  incidents  and 
happenings  remained  imprinted  on  her  heart ! 
Thus,  she  was  shaken  with  rage  and  disgust 
when  shown  that  the  curiously  shaped  steel 
arrow  which  had  fatally  injured  a  little 
child,  had  fastened  to  it,  not  only  a  miniature 
German  flag,  but  an  absurd  message,  written 
in  bad  French,  pinned  to  the  flag. 

As  to  the  sights  which  filled  her  eyes  when 
she  was  away  from  the  shadowed  church, 
the  one  which  remained  the  most  vividly 
present  to  her,  in  after  days,  was  the  effect 
produced  by  a  fragment  of  shell  which 
happened  to  unseal  the  top  of  a  hydrant. 
Just  out  of  reach  of  a  fiercely  burning  building, 
the  water  rose  like  a  colossal  fountain,  throw- 
ing exquisite  sprays  of  prismatic  colour  into 
the  sunny  air. 

All  through  those  four  September  days, 
while  friend  and  enemy  destroyed  the  Haute 


i6o        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Ville  of  Valoise,  the  sun  shone  hotly  in  a 
clear  sky,  the  air  was  filled  with  a  soft, 
luminous  haze  which  rose  from  the  river, 
and  the  fierce  fighting  in  the  woods  behind 
the  town  went  on  in  glades  and  coverts  filled 
with  the  magic  beauty  of  early  autumn  scents 
and  tints. 


Jeanne  Rouannes  suddenly  awoke  from 
what  had  been  a  seven  hours'  deep,  death- 
like sleep.  Awoke  ?  Ah  no !  As  she  sat 
up  in  a  darkness  broken  by  tiny,  wraithlike 
shafts  of  sunlight,  she  half  smiled,  half 
frowned  at  the  strangeness  of  the  nightmare 
in  the  mazes  of  which  she  found  herself 
involved. 

Instead  of  being  in  her  blue-and-white 
room  at  home,  surrounded  by  all  her  girlish 
treasures,  and  lying  in  the  old-fashioned 
mahogany  bed,  opposite  which  hung  a 
charming  portrait,  painted  some  thirty  years 
ago,  of  her  gentle,  dead  mother,  she  seemed 
to  be — of  all  the  most  absurdly  improbable 
places — in  the  sacristy  of  the  parish  church, 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        i6i 

and  sitting  up,  fully  dressed,  on  a  heap  of 
dirty  grey  coats  ! 

There  came  over  her  a  sudden  misgiving — 
a  mysterious  sinking  of  the  heart.  Perhaps 
this  was  the  beginning  of  illness — of  a  very 
serious,  terrible  illness  ?  She  was  conscious  of 
agonising,  shooting  pain  in  her  head,  and  over 
her  eyes,  also  of  dull,  aching  sensations  in  her 
limbs,  especially  in  her  arms.  .  .  .  But  if 
only  she  could  shake  herself  free  of  this  evil 
nightmare,  she  would  not  mind  the  pain.  .  .  . 

Then  there  seemed  to  steal  into  her 
delicate  nostrils  a  most  horrible  odour — 
And  it  was  that  now  dreadfully  familiar 
smell,  that  sweetish,  sickly,  penetrating  smell, 
which  brought  back  full  consciousness  to 
Jeanne  Rouannes. 

This  was  no  dream — no  nightmare.  She 
was  in  very  truth  lying,  or  rather  now  sitting 
up,  in  the  sacristy  of  the  old  church  !  It  was 
there  that  the  Herr  Doktor  had  arranged 
her  rude  couch  the  night  before  ;  he,  too, 
who  had  folded  one  of  her  blood-stained  Red 
Cross  overalls  to  make  a  pillow  for  her  head, 
and,  finally,  with  the  thoughtful  kindness  on 
which  she  had  grown  unconsciously  to  rely. 


i62        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

darkened  the  two  narrow  windows  with 
various  holy  vestments  which  he  had  uncere- 
moniously pulled  out  of  M.  le  Cure's  cupboard. 
She  even  remembered,  now,  the  form  of 
English  words  in  which,  with  a  queer  break 
in  his  tired,  worn  voice,  he  had  ordered  her 
to  lie  down  and  sleep. 

He  had  done  it  all  for  the  best — she  knew 
that.  And  yet,  and  yet  she  was  faintly 
resentful  of  his  well-meant  care.  For  now 
she  was  uneasily  conscious  that  she  felt  less 
able  than  she  had  felt  yesterday  to  go  on 
with  her  work — the  terrible,  urgent,  unceas- 
ing work  which  lay  just  the  other  side  of 
the  oak  door  leading  into  the  church. 

Through  that  door  there  now  came  the 
loud  sounds  of  knocking  which  had  evidently 
awakened  her.  Each  knock  reverberated 
horribly  in  her  brain. 

The  Herr  Doktor  would  be  sorry — concern 
would  fill  his  anxious,  red-rimmed  eyes,  when 
he  saw  how  tired,  how  dreadfully  tired,  in 
spite  of  her  long  night's  rest,  poor  Jeanne 
now  was  ! 

Fumbling  in  her  pocket,  she  found  a  little 
box  he  had  given  her  two  days  ago,  when 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        163 

she  had  confessed  to  a  spasm  of  the  head- 
ache which  was  now  again  full  on  her,  making 
her  feel  blind  and  sick.  She  had  not  believed 
that  one  of  the  tiny  white  capsules  in  this 
little  box  would  do  her  any  good — but  she 
had  taken  it  to  please  him,  to  show  courtesy 
to  one  who  was  always  so  kind  and  courteous 
to  her,  and  who  had  been  so  good,  so  more 
than  good,  to  her  dear  father.  And  then 
a  miracle  had  happened  !  Not  only  had  her 
headache  gone,  but  also  her  sense  of  utter 
weariness  and  confusion  of  mind.  '  Not  more 
than  every  four  hours  must  you  one  take,' 
he  had  explained,  and  she  had  tried  not  to 
exceed  the  allowance.  She  had  lived  and 
worked  on  those  capsules  ever  since.  But 
it  was  dght  hours  since  she  had  had  the 
last. 

Nothing  on  the  part  of  those  whom  she 
still  in  her  heart  called  '  the  Prussians  ' — 
a  name  dating  from  her  childhood — could 
now  surprise  Jeanne  Rouannes.  She  was 
equally  ready  for  their  hearty  kindness  or 
their  equally  strong  and  heartless  brutality. 
During  those  last  three  days  she  had  seen 
much  of  both. 


1 64        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

And  yet  she  was  surprised — surprised 
and,  yes,  terribly  moved — when,  on  opening 
the  sacristy  door,  she  saw  what  was  going 
on  in  the  church.  All  that  had  been  brought 
there,  unpacked  and  arranged  with  so  much 
science  and  care  five  days  ago,  was  now  being 
prepared  for  removal.  The  Sanitats-Aerzte 
were  busily  engaged  in  supervising  the  work, 
and  the  old  Frenchwomen  who  had  been 
impressed  to  help  in  the  improvised  Feld- 
Lazaret  were  assisting  the  German  orderlies 
with  what  looked  unnecessarily  cheerful  zeal. 

It  was  a  painful  scene,  a  scene  of  noise, 
of  confusion,  and  of  the  angry,  hoarse  shouting 
of  orders.  Lying  in  the  beds  arranged  in 
rows  on  either  side  of  the  aisles,  stretched  out 
on  the  now  sodden,  dirty  straw  which  had 
been  brought  in  when  the  beds  had  given 
out,  the  wounded,  and,  in  many  cases,  the 
dying,  men  lay  staring  with  glazed,  apathetic 
eyes  at  all  that  was  going  on  about  them. 

Suddenly  an  order  rang  out,  in  a  voice 
with  which  Jeanne  Rouannes  had  only  kindly, 
almost  pleasant,  associations — that  of  the 
Herr  Stabsarzt. 

At    once,    wheeling    about    with    sharp 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        165 

precision,  each  of  the  German  orderlies  ceased 
whatever  work  he  was  engaged  on,  and  with 
firm,  ungentle  hands  began  rolling  up  in  their 
bed-coverings  those  among  the  wounded — 
French  as  well  as  German — who  were  regarded 
as  '  hopeful  cases.'  The  moans,  the  sudden 
cries  of  pain  and  fear  of  the  wretched  men 
rang  out,  and  the  Red  Cross  nurse  rushed 
impulsively  forward,  words  of  protest  on 
her  lips. 

'  You  will  have  enough  to  do  caring  for 
those  we  are  compelled  to  leave  behind  us,' 
said  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  Octavius  Mott  dryly, 
and  then,  as  he  looked  into  her  young,  grieving 
face,  his  voice  softened.  '  I  know  my  poor 
fellows  will  have  care  and  goodness  from  you, 
my  dear  demoiselle.' 

But  even  now  Jeanne  Rouannes  did  not 
understand,  and  it  fell  to  her  old  friend, 
the  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller,  to  tell  her  the 
truth.  She  attributed  his  strange,  agitated 
manner,  the  look  of  dreadful  suffering  on  his 
plain,  pallid  face,  to  the  nature  of  that  truth, 
for  '  The  French  will  soon  in  this  town  be,' 
he  muttered  hurriedly.  '  Therefore  must  we 
this  morning  in  retreat  go.     That  is  why  I 


i66        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

am  compelled  you  to  leave.  But  permission 
your  Cure  here  to  bring  obtained  have  I. 
I  can  you  with  that  good  old  man  safely 
leave.' 

The  Germans  evacuating  Valoise  ?  She 
knew  now  why  the  women  round  her  were 
working  so  well  and  briskly,  why  there 
were  even  furtive  smiles  on  some  of  their 
weary  faces.  The  Prussians  were  being  driven 
away — the  victorious  French  would  soon  be 
here  ! 

But  Jeanne  Rouannes  was  too  tired,  too 
bewildered,  to  feel  more  than  dully  glad. 

A  few  moments  later  Max  Keller  obtained 
from  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  unwilling  permission 
to  leave  the  church.  '  You  must  find  the 
priest  as  soon  as  you  can,'  said  the  old 
German  gruffly,  '  for  we  have  to  be  off  in 
about  an  hour.  Mademoiselle  Rouannes  will 
be  quite  safe  here — with  the  wounded.'  But 
as  he  shot  a  look  into  the  younger  man's 
set,  unhappy  face,  he  said  to  himself,  '  You'd 
like  to  take  her  along  with  you,  my  poor 
fellow.  So  ?  But  this  is  no  time  for  love 
nonsense  ! ' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        167 

3 

The  Mairie  of  Valoise  was  close  to  the 
church,  and  had,  so  far,  escaped  bombard- 
ment. It  was  a  shabby-looking,  modern 
house,  in  a  narrow  street  now  filled  with 
military  motors  and  transport  wagons.  And 
now,  both  within  and  without  the  Mairie, 
were  all  the  signs  of  rather  hurried, 
ignominious  departure. 

Unchallenged  the  Herr  Doktor  walked 
into  a  dirty  hall  full  of  huge  packing-cases 
and  crates  ready  for  removal.  To  the  left, 
above  a  large  half-open  door,  were  inscribed 
the  words  '  Salle  des  Mariages,'  and  pulling 
open  the  door,  he  walked  in. 

At  an  ornate  table  covered  with  maps 
and  papers,  below  an  allegorical  painting  of 
Hymen,  an  intelligence  officer  sat  writing. 
He  looked  hot,  tired  and  flurried.  Raising 
his  head,  he  frowned  disagreeably.  '  What 
is  the  matter  now,  Herr  Doktor  ?  I  sent  all 
the  necessary  orders  to  the  Field  Ambulance 
three  hours  ago  !  '  he  exclaimed.  '  I  regret 
to  tell  you  that  every  moment  is  of  value, 
for   Valoise   must   be   entirely  evacuated  by 


i68        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

eight  o'clock.  We  have  certain  information 
that  the  town  is  to  be  again  bombarded 
at  nine,  but  this  time  the  French  will  be 
destroying  what  will  be  left  here  of  their 
own  people  !  ' 

At  that  pleasant  thought  his  countenance 
lightened. 

The  Herr  Doktor  walked  right  up  to  the 
table.  He  was  not  in  a  mood  to  stand  any 
bullying.  '  We  have  to  give  the  parish  priest 
instructions  about  our  wounded,'  he  said 
curtly. 

'  The  parish  priest  ?  You  mean  one  of  the 
hostages  ?  '  The  intelligence  officer  pushed 
aside  a  packet  of  printed  forms  and  sought 
hastily  under  it.  '  Here  is  the  key  of  their 
prison — if  indeed  it  is  still  standing !  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  been  too  busy  to 
concern  myself  about  these  two  French- 
men, and  it  is  a  good  thing  for  them,  Herr 
Doktor,  that  you  have  this  business  with 
the  Cure  !  Yes,  by  all  means,  bring  the 
priest  to  the  church,  and  leave  him  there 
in  charge.  As  for  the  Mayor,  he  can  be 
released  later.  That  Mayor  is  a  truculent 
fellow  ! '     He  smiled  a  little  grimly.     *  You 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        169 

can  hand  this  key  to  the  priest  just  before 
you  move  off.' 

The  Herr  Doktor  took  the  key,  and 
walked  quietly  to  the  door.  Did  the  Herr 
Major  mean  that,  but  for  his,  Max  Keller's, 
accidental  intervention,  the  hostages  would 
have  been  left  to  await  release  by  their  own 
countrymen  ?  But  that  was  quite  against 
the  usages  of  civilised  warfare  ! 

After  he  had  left  the  Rue  de  la  Mairie 
and  entered  the  zone  of  destruction  caused 
by  the  bombardment  of  the  last  few  days, 
the  Herr  Doktor  had  to  pick,  to  leap,  some- 
times almost  to  excavate,  his  way  through 
the  ruins  of  what  had  been  a  pleasant, 
residential  quarter  of  the  happy  little  town. 

What  a  scene  of  tragic  and,  yes,  sordid 
desolation  lay  all  about  him,  and  what  an 
awful  stillness — a  stillness  which  made  him 
start  at  the  sounds  made  by  his  own  footfalls  ! 

All  the  landmarks  with  which  he  had 
become  vaguely  familiar  during  the  last  three 
weeks  were  gone.  They  seemed  obliterated. 
Heaps  of  rubble,  and  decomposing  masses 
of    filth,    from     which    he    hastily     averted 


I70        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

his  eyes  when  warned  of  their  nearness  by 
another  of  his  sensitive  senses,  rose  mountain- 
ously  round  the  shattered  sides  and  backs 
of  those  houses  of  which  the  walls  remained 
standing.  Where  there  had  been  placid 
beauty,  there  was  now  an  ugliness  that 
verged  on  the  diabolic  grotesque ;  where  there 
had  been  healthy  life,  there  was  now  foul 
corruption. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  an  eternity  of 
difficult  going,  he  saw,  through  a  hole  blown 
out  in  an  otherwise  still  intact  wall,  a  beautiful 
garden.  Beds  of  blooming,  delicately  tinted 
flowers  rose  amid  grass  which  still  looked 
fresh  and  green,  though  here  and  there,  across 
a  stretch  of  lawn,  there  yawned  a  deep  pit 
made  by  a  bursting  shell. 

He  clambered  through  into  the  peaceful 
demesne  with  a  sensation  of  gasping  relief, 
and  wandered  on  till  a  turn  brought  him 
close  to  what  looked  like  a  massive  ruin,  out 
of  which,  high  up  above  his  head,  there 
lurched  two  large  pieces  of  line,  brass-incrusted, 
mahogany  furniture.  With  a  shock  of  regret 
he  realised  that  this  was  all  that  now  remained 
of  the  largest  of  the  villas  commanding  the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        171 

Grande  Place,  for  through  an  open  door,  set 
deep  in  the  wall  of  the  garden,  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  familiar  open  space. 

He  hurried  forward,  relieved  to  know  that 
his  perilous,  disagreeable  journey  was  nearing 
its  end. 

And  then,  as  he  emerged  on  to  the  now 
deserted  Grande  Place,  the  Herr  Doktor's 
feelings  of  relief  changed  with  terrible 
suddenness  to  horror.  For  the  first  time 
he  felt  his  nerve  give  way,  and  there  swept 
over  him  an  overmastering  desire  to  rush 
back  and  obliterate  from  his  memory 
the  hideous  sight  on  which  his  eyes  now 
rested. 

Bathed  in  the  bright,  early  morning 
sunlight,  close  to  him,  on  his  right,  the  stone- 
rimmed  Abreuvoir  was  surrounded  by  a  herd 
of  dead  and  dying  horses.  There  they  had 
galloped,  maddened  by  pain ;  there  they  had 
wandered  down,  wounded,  starving,  and 
thirsty,  from  the  uplands,  drawn  by  some 
strange,  secret  instinct  as  to  where  water 
was.  Many  of  the  poor  creatures  still  had 
saddles  on  their  sore  backs,  and  others  had 
attached   to   them   remains   of   the   harness 


172        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

which    had    bound    them    to    artillery    and 
transport  wagons. 

Averting  his  eyes  determinedly  from  the 
piteous  sight,  he  ran  across  the  Grande  Place 
towards  the  screen  of  chestnut  trees  behind 
which  lay  the  Tournebride,  and  when  he 
reached  the  high  gilt  gates,  of  which  the  posts 
were  wreathed  in  now  fading  orange  trumpet 
flowers,  he  uttered  aloud  an  exclamation  of 
almost  sobbing  relief.  The  long,  low,  rose- 
red  mass  of  brick  buildings  seemed  intact, 
and  that  though  two  of  the  high  trees  in  the 
courtyard  lay  split  and  riven,  their  blackened 
trunks  broken  up  into  what  now  looked  like 
monstrous  pieces  of  firewood. 

But,  alas  !  as  he  went  on,  as  he  pene- 
trated farther  and  farther  into  the  courtyard, 
he  saw  that  all  that  now  remained  of  the 
beautiful  old  inn  was  the  rose-red  facade  ; 
behind  that  facade  everything  had  been 
destroyed  by  shell  or  fire.  Through  the  upper 
windows  he  could  see  the  sky,  and  a  muslin 
embroidered  curtain,  still  delicately  white, 
fluttered  outwards. 

He  edged  his  way  to  where  an  arch  had 
given  access   to  the   kitchen  garden  of  the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE  173 

inn.  Arch  and  wall  had  escaped  destruction, 
but  the  garden  beyond  had  been  rifled  of 
everything  ;  fruit,  ripe  or  unripe,  had  been 
plucked ;  vegetables  pulled  up  from  the 
ground ;  and  the  flower  borders  trampled  into 
a  bare  wilderness  of  dust  and  mud.  Two  taps 
had  been  left  running,  and  a  space  which  had 
contained  a  miniature  apple  orchard  had 
become  a  swamp.  But  the  square,  window- 
less  fruit-house  stood  unscathed  in  the  midst 
of  the  desolation.  Yet,  as  he  walked  along 
the  dusty  path,  a  nervous  sense  of  misgiving 
came  over  the  Herr  Doktor ;  he  felt  he 
would  like  to  find  the  building  before  him 
empty,  and  that  though  it  made  his  journey 
useless. 

Putting  the  key  in  the  door,  he  turned 
it — then  recoiled  in  involuntary  disgust,  so 
fetid  and  so  hot  was  the  blast  of  air  which 
met  him.  Opening  the  door  widely  he  walked 
through  into  the  large  room,  and  saw  that  his 
suspicions  of  the  oflicer  who  had  handed  him 
the  key  with  such  ambiguous,  sinister  words 
were  indeed  justified  ! 

Each  of  the  two  French  hostages  lay 
stretched  out  on  his  pallet  bed  ;   the  Mayor's 


174 


THE  RED  CROSS    BARGE 


body  and  face  were  turned  to  the  wall,  but 
the  priest  lay  on  his  back,  and  all  over  his 
wax-like,  yellowing,  dead  face,  and  on  his 
white  hair,  a  cloud  of  flies  had  settled. 

Suddenly  the  Mayor,  with  a  painful  effort, 
turned  and  sat  up.  He  feebly  dragged  his 
limbs  across  the  brown  blanket  on  which 
he  had  been  lying,  and  whispered,  *  For  the 
love  of  God,  a  little  water.  Monsieur,'  but 
his  swollen  tongue  could  hardly  form  the 
words. 

The  Herr  Doktor  rushed  out  into  the 
garden.  Yes,  there,  close  by,  was  running 
water.  But  he  could  see  nothing  to  pour 
it  into.  He  made  a  cup  of  his  two  hands, 
and  walking  this  time  with  slow,  steady 
footsteps,  he  came  back  into  what  had  become 
a  charnel-house. 

It  was  after  his  third  journey  for  water 
that  he  heard  the  Frenchman  speak  again, 
in  low,  husky  tones.  '  The  old  man  died 
yesterday  morning.  He  had,  it  seems,  a 
malady  of  the  heart.  But  he  predicted  that 
I  should  be  saved,  and  as  long  as  he  was 
alive  to  say  fine  and  consoling  things  to  me, 
I  kept  my  courage.' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        175 

*  You  have  courage  now,'  said  the  German 
surgeon,  feelingly. 

'  No,  Monsieur,  my  courage  has  all  gone. 
I  am  horribly  frightened — I  am  like  a  child.' 
He  brought  out  the  words  with  a  hoarse, 
choking  effort,  and  tears  forced  themselves 
into  his  sunken  eyes,  and  lost  themselves  in 
his  unkempt  beard. 

To  the  Herr  Doktor,  this  unexpected 
incident  was  proving,  rather  to  his  own  sur- 
prise, almost  unendurably  painful — and,  yes, 
humiliating.  Such  accidents  should  not  be 
allowed  to  happen  in  so  splendidly  organised 
an  army  as  were  the  cultured  German  hosts. 
He  was  not  a  vindictive  man,  but  he  longed 
to  bring  the  officer  responsible  for — for  this 
bit  of  callous  cruelty,  to  condign  and  very 
sharp  punishment. 

*  Listen,'  he  said  in  his  odd,  twisted 
French.  '  I  now  go  must.  But  first  will 
I  something  find  in  which  plenty  of  water 
to  leave.  And,  Monsieur  le  Maire,  I  have 
good  news  for  you.'  He  waited  a  moment, 
then  went  on,  with  an  effort,  '  The  French 
will  soon  in  Valoise  be,  for  within  an  hour 
shall  we  the  town  leave.     But  before  leaving. 


176        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

I  will  arrange  that  food  suitable  to  your 
requirements  shall  brought  be/ 

He  went  out  again  into  the  ravaged 
garden,  and,  now  that  the  greatest  need  for 
it  had  gone  by,  he  espied  a  watering-pot 
close  to  where  he  had  looked  so  eagerly  a 
few  minutes  ago.  Filling  it  up,  he  hurried 
back  into  the  fruit-house. 

*  Do  not  therein  a  moment  longer  stay,' 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  '  Into  the  air  and 
the  sun  come  you  now  out.  If  that  you  do, 
soon  recovered  quite  you  will  be.' 


PART  V 


The  Herr  Stabsarzt  was  enjoying  a  steaming 
cup  of  hot  coffee  under  the  porch  of  the 
church  which  had  been  his  headquarters 
for  five  stirring  days. 

Everything  was  packed  and  ready  for 
departure.  And  the  German  Red  Cross 
surgeons  and  their  staif  were  now  only 
waiting  for  the  return  of  the  Herr  Doktor 
Max  Keller,  and  for  the  parish  priest  of 
Valoise. 

All  final  directions  had  been  given  to, 
and  intelligently  noted  down  by,  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes.  Not  that  there  was  much  to  say 
or  to  hear.  Patience  and  pity  were  all  that 
seemed  likely  to  be  needed,  for  only  the 
dying — those  past  hope  of  recovery  either 
as  fighters  or  as  prisoners — were  being  left 
behind. 

177  N 


178        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Suddenly  a  shell  burst  close  to  the  porch 
under  which  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  was  eating 
his  hasty  breakfast.  He  uttered  a  quick, 
sharp  exclamation  of  anger.  It  would  indeed 
be  rough  luck  if  any  of  his  wounded,  the  men 
now  stretched  out  in  motor  ambulances,  and 
in  other  less  comfortable  conveyances,  were 
killed  while  waiting  for  the  start  ! 

*  Any  harm  done  ?  '  he  shouted,  rising 
to  his  feet.  But  half  a  dozen  reassuring 
voices  answered  him. 

The  foremost  portion  of  the  melancholy 
convoy,  that  is,  the  motor  ambulances, 
crammed  with  the  wounded  men  whose  con- 
dition was  considered  too  serious  for  the  make- 
shift wagons  or  springless  carts  pressed  into 
the  Red  Cross  service,  was  already  under  way. 
Only  one  large  grey  motor,  that  reserved 
for  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  and  his  own  personal 
assistants,  stood  waiting  in  the  open  space 
in  front  of  the  church.  They  would  be  the 
last  Germans  to  leave  Valoise. 

As  he  sat  there,  under  the  grey  stone 
porch — for  he  was  a  wise  man,  and  as  he 
had  a  great  deal  of  enforced  standing  to  do 
he  never  stood  when  he  could  sit — the  Herr 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        179 

Stabsarzt  felt  more  at  ease,  more  '  zufrieden  ' 
than  he  had  felt  for  a  long  time.  A  success- 
ful medical  man — be  he  physician  or  surgeon 
— generally  has  a  kindly,  tolerant,  understand- 
ing outlook  on  human  nature.  And  this  was 
so  with  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  Octavius  Mott  of 
Ems.  But  as  the  minutes  went  by,  and  the 
screaming  of  the  shells  grew  more  insistent, 
and  as  they  began  bursting  nearer  to  the 
quarter  of  Valoise  they  had  hitherto  spared, 
he  blamed  himself  for  having  granted  Max 
Keller's  request. 

*  The  poor  devils  out  there,  to  say  nothing 
of  ourselves,  will  soon  be  in  some  danger 
if   this    goes    on,'    he    observed    to   his    chief 

orderly  ;    '  it's  time  we  were '  and  then, 

before  he  could  finish  his  sentence,  there 
came  an  awful  explosion,  followed  by  the 
dull  thuds  of  falling  masonry,  while  from  close 
by  rose  cries  and  shouts  of  fear,  surprise, 
and  pain. 

An  Englishman  or  a  Frenchman  would 
have  instinctively  rushed  to  see  what  damage 
had  been  done,  and  especially  would  he  have 
done  so  had  he  been  an  English  or  French 
surgeon.     But    the    Herr    Stabsarzt    did    not 


i8o        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

move.  He  simply  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
His  professional  labours  in  Valoise  were  at 
an  end.  If  any  civilian  inhabitant  had  been 
wounded  by  that  shell  he,  or  more  probably 
she,  must  wait  for  the  French  Red  Cross. 

There  was  a  confused  stir  of  sound — 
exclamations  in  French  and  in  German. 
Someone  had  evidently  been  seriously  hurt — 
someone  was  going  to  be  taken  into  the  church. 

But  what  was  this  which  was  being 
borne  along  so  carefully,  and  by  four  of  his 
own  orderlies,  on  one  of  the  stretchers  which 
fitted  into  his  own  motor  ambulance  ?  The 
Herr  Stabsarzt  stood  up  again,  and  looked 
anxiously  towards  the  little  procession  coming 
slowly  towards  him.  Presently,  with  surprise 
and  consternation,  he  saw  that  the  huddled 
up  figure,  of  which  the  head,  face,  and  breast 
were  thickly  covered  with  dust  and  blood, 
wore  the  same  uniform  as  he  did  himself  ! 

*  It's  surely  the  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller  ?  ' 
exclaimed  the  man  by  his  side.  '  Ach,  poor 
fellow  !     What  a  sight  !  ' 

'  Donnerwetter  ! '  The  Herr  Stabsarzt  was 
not  given  to  swearing,  still  this  piece  of  black 
bad  luck  was  too  much  for  his  feelings,  the 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        i8i 

more  so  that  he  knew  his  own  sympathetic, 
sentimental  heart  was  responsible. 

But  after  he  had  bent  over  the  mangled, 
moaning  form  of  his  unfortunate  colleague, 
he  softened.  This,  after  all,  was  the  fortune 
of  war  !  If  he  had  drunk  his  coffee  rather 
more  quickly,  it  might  have  happened  to 
himself — it  might  happen  yet. 

But  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  Herr 
Doktor  ?  Plainly  the  poor  man  was  in  no 
condition  to  be  moved  at  all,  still  less  to  take 
a  long  journey.  The  Herr  Stabsarzt  made 
a  brief,  but  still  a  very  thorough,  examination, 
out  there  in  the  wind  and  sunlight,  and  that 
examination  made  up  his  mind  for  him.  The 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  leave  Max  Keller 
behind,  to  take  his  chance  of  meeting  with 
a  humane  and  skilful  French  surgeon.  It 
looked  as  if  at  the  best  there  was  but  very, 
very  little  that  could  be  done  for  him. 

Turning  away  with  a  troubled  face,  the 
Herr  Stabsarzt  pushed  his  way  back  into  the 
church  ;  and,  as  he  did  so,  a  feeling  of  acute 
nausea,  of  intense  depression,  came  over 
him.  How  awful,  how  inhuman,  above  all 
how  useless,  all  this  was  ! 


1 82        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

Then  he  told  himself  that  he  had  been 
too  long  in  the  fresh  air ;  that  was  why  he 
suddenly  found  that  subtle,  sweetish,  devilish, 
gangrene  stench  so  foul,  so  trying. 

He  called  out  sharply  from  where 
he  stood  —  '  Mademoiselle  ?  Mademoiselle 
Rouannes  !  ' 

Leaving  the  bedside  of  a  dying  German 
over  whom  she  had  been  bending,  the  young 
Red  Cross  nurse  hastened  down  the  nave 
towards  him.  Her  face  was  a  little  flushed, 
her  eyes  wet,  from  the  piteous  ordeal  of 
trying  to  ease  the  last  moments  of  a  dying 
man  with  whose  language  she  was  un- 
acquainted, whose  last  earnest  messages  she 
could  never  hope  to  transmit  to  those  he 
loved.  It  was  an  ordeal  she  had  gone  through 
often  during  the  last  few  days,  but  to  which, 
as  yet,  she  could  not  make  herself  grow 
callously  accustomed  ;  and  now  she  was  her- 
self too  shaken,  too  eager  to  get  back  to  the 
man  she  had  just  left,  to  notice  the  dis- 
turbed expression  of  the  German  surgeon's 
face.  Indeed,  the  meaning  of  the  words  he 
uttered,  as  he  came  up  close  to  her,  took 
some  moments  to  penetrate  her  brain. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        183 

*  There  has  been  an  accident,  Mademoiselle. 
A  shell  burst  close  to  the  Herr  Doktor 
Max  Keller.  He  has  been  gravely  injured, 
wounded  by  large  fragments  of  shell  in  the 
face  and  head,  while  his  right  arm  has  been 
crushed  by  a  piece  of  masonry  or  iron  girder. 
He  is  not  in  a  state  to  be  moved.  We  must 
leave  him  behind  in  your  care.  For  his  sake, 
I  hope  a  French  Red  Cross  surgeon  will  soon 
be  here.'  He  spoke  quickly,  pronouncing 
the  name  of  his  colleague  in  the  German  way, 
and  to  Jeanne  Rouannes'  ears  the  name,  so 
uttered,  suggested  nothing. 

'  I  will  do  my  best  to  alleviate  his  pain 
and   to   make   him   comfortable,'   she   spoke 
mechanically,    and   her    eyes    wandered    un- 
certainly.    Where   was   this   newly  wounded 
man  ? 

'  I  know  right  well  that  you  will  !  '  The 
Herr  Stabsarzt  looked  at  the  French  Red 
Cross  nurse  curiously.  Was  it  possible  that 
Max  Keller's  absorption  in  herself,  his  plainly- 
to-be  -  perceived  state  of  '  Verliebtheit '  was 
ignored  by  her  ?  Why  the  poor  fellow  had 
been  injured,  practically  killed,  in  her  service  ! 
And  where,  by  the  way,  was  the  old  Cure  ? 


i84        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

*  I  ask  myself,  Mademoiselle,  if  there  is 
any  place  other  than  here  where  the  Herr 
Doktor  could  be  taken — a  place  clean,  quiet 
and,  yes,  airy  ?  ' 

'  The  Herr  Doktor  ?  '  She  flushed  a  little. 
Then  it  was  one  of  the  German  surgeons  who 
had  been  injured  ?  She  had  thought  the 
man  in  question  to  be  one  of  the  orderlies. 

*  He  had  a  great  liking  for  the  barge. 
More  than  once  he  expressed  to  me  the 
opinion  that  it  was  the  ideal  place  for  wounded 
men.  Could  not  room  be  found  there  for 
him?' 

And  then,  at  last,  Jeanne  Rouannes 
understood.  *  Is  it — is  it  he  who  has  been 
hurt  ?  '  she  asked.  And  now  there  was  no 
lack  of  concern  or  distress  in  her  voice. 

'  Yes,  it  is  the  Herr  Doktor  Max  Keller — 
he  who  was  in  Valoise  before  we  arrived 
here,'  he  answered  gravely.  *  And  the  thought 
of  my  good  colleague  dying  in  this  disturbed 
and  noisy  place  is  painful  to  me.' 

*  He  shall  immediately  be  taken  to  the 
barge.  I  will  come  and  see  to  everything. 
There  is  a  small  cabin  where  he  will  be  quite 
comfortable,  and  very,  very  quiet.' 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        185 

*  And  I  have  your  promise  to  tend  him 
till  a  French  surgeon  can  take  charge  of 
him  ?  ' 

'  But  certainly,'  she  answered.  He  noticed 
that  she  spoke  a  little  breathlessly.  *  I 
promise  not  to  leave  him  till  then.' 

Again  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  looked  at  her 
curiously.  Did  her  troubled  face  express 
only  the  natural  sympathy  of  a  sensitive, 
soft-hearted  woman — or  something  more  ? 

'  I  will  myself  accompany  you  to  the 
barge.  We  will  walk  behind  the  stretcher. 
It  is  not  very  far.  Do  you  wish  to  tell  the 
women  here  where  you  will  be  ?  ' 

'  No,  Monsieur  le  Medecin,'  and  this  time 
a  wave  of  colour  flooded  her  face.  '  If  I  do 
that,  they  will  constantly  be  sending  for  me. 
Everything  is  in  order.  There  is  nothing 
I  could  do,  that  they  cannot  do.' 

She  spoke  with  the  decision,  the  simple 
directness,  which  the  Herr  Stabsarzt  admired. 
What  would  he  not  give,  in  times  of  peace 
of  course  he  meant,  to  have  such  a  capable 
young  woman  as  this  French  girl  had  proved 
herself  to  be,  in  charge  of  the  nurses  in  his 
beloved  clinik  ! 


i86        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


Jeanne  Rouannes  tended  the  Herr  Doktor 
all  that  long,  still,  cloudless  day,  as  together 
they  had  tended  so  many  wounded  men  during 
those  days  and  nights  which  had  seemed, 
to  her  at  least,  to  contain  an  eternity  of 
painful  effort  and  strain,  of  dull  despair, 
of  agonising  sights. 

But  here,  in  this  clean,  water-lapped 
little  cabin-room,  there  reigned  a  delicious 
quietude,  only  broken  by  the  drowsy  murmur 
of  the  river  which  flowed  swiftly  just  out- 
side, past  the  wooden  walls  of  the  barge. 
From  far  off,  making  the  stillness  the  more 
intense,  came  the  deep  booming  of  great 
guns,  but  with  the  falling  of  night  that  also 
ceased. 

She  had  been  prodigal  with  the  morphia 
the  German  surgeon  had  left  with  her,  and 
still  more  with  that  strange,  suggestively- 
named  drug,  heroine.  For  she  was  dully, 
but  none  the  less  firmly,  determined  that 
this  man  should  not  suffer  as  some  of  the 
men  she  had  tended  during  the  last  few 
days  had  suffered.     He,  at  least,  had  earned 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        187 

immunity  from  that  hellish  pain  by  all  the 
pain  he  had  spared  others. 

He  lay  so  rigidly  unmoving  that  had 
he  not  sometimes  breathed  out  a  long,  tired 
sigh,  and  now  and  again,  not  often,  moved 
his  bandaged  head  an  inch  to  the  right  or  an 
inch  to  the  left,  she  might  have  doubted  if 
he  still  lived. 

At  last  an  immense,  limitless  lassitude 
seemed  to  fall  on  Jeanne  Rouannes.  Soul, 
as  well  as  body,  cried  out  and  hungered  for 
rest.  Slipping  down  on  to  the  floor,  to  the 
left  side  of  the  bed,  she  propped  her  head 
against  the  hard  back  of  a  wooden  chair 
and  dozed. 

She  woke — was  it  moments  or  hours 
later  ? — to  hear  a  little,  stuffless  sound — that 
of  the  Herr  Doktor's  hand  moving  feebly 
across  the  sheet. 

Turning  slightly  round,  and  lifting  up  her 
right  arm,  she  clasped  the  poor,  limp,  nerveless 
hand  in  hers.  .  .  . 

How  many  hands,  hard,  dirty,  tortured 
hands,  she  had  in  pity  clasped  during  the  last 
few    weeks  ! — the    honest,    valiant    hands    of 


1 88        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

her  young,  wounded,  fellow-countrymen,  in 
those  peaceful,  early  days  of  war  that  now 
seemed  to  her  so  unutterably  long  ago. 
Lately,  the  hands  she  had  held  in  hers,  often 
in  a  useless,  pitiful  attempt  to  make  them 
understand  words  of  kindness  or  of  hope,  had 
been  the  huge  hands  of  wounded  Germans, 
those  big  men-children  who  had  seemed  to 
her  so  much  less  stoical  in  the  braving  of 
pain  than  the  more  highly-strung  French 
soldiers. 

The  hand  she  now  held  was  small  and 
delicate,  the  hand  of  a  surgeon  and  a 
student.  How  kindly  that  poor  hand,  now 
lying  limply  clasped  in  hers,  had  tended  her 
father  !  At  this  thought,  this  recollection, 
she  pressed  it  more  closely,  and  as  she  did 
so,  Max  Keller,  unknowing  where  he  was, 
though  aware  of  her  nearness,  came  back 
to  semi-consciousness. 

Before  his  sightless  eyes  there  suddenly 
gleamed  the  lights  of  the  Schloss  at  Weimar, 
reflected  in  the  waters  of  the  Ulm.  Then 
with  extraordinary  vividness  he  saw  the 
Schloss  gates — those  gates  which  he  had 
passed  such  myriads  of  times  in  his  thirty- 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        189 

four  years  of  life.  ...  A  moment  later,  he 
was  gazing,  with  the  same  sense  of  vivid 
reality,  at  the  bronze  fountain,  let  into  an 
old  wall,  of  which  the  subject — found  by 
Goethe  in  a  church  in  Spain — is  that  of  two 
beautiful  youths,  brothers  who  died  young. 
One  youth,  who  holds  a  torch  reversed,  has 
his  arm  round  the  other's  neck.  Beneath 
their  feet  the  clear  water  has  gushed  forth 
since  the  day  when  Goethe's  eyes  first  rested 
on  the  finished  work,  and  now,  lying  there 
in  the  little  cabin-room  of  a  French  Red  Cross 
barge,  Weimar's  dying  son  seemed  to  hear 
the  delicious  bubbling  of  the  spring. 

There,  too,  he  saw  the  door  through  which 
so  often  walked  the  one  woman  whom  Goethe 
had  supremely  loved. 

Thousands  of  times  had  the  happy  Goethe 
walked  through  that  low  door  on  his  way 
to  the  beloved.  .  .  . 

At  last,  vaguely,  obscurely,  there  came  to 
the  Herr  Doktor  the  knowledge  of  where  he 
was,  and  who  was  with  him  there.  But  the 
knowledge  brought  confusion,  and  distress  of 
mind.  His  associations  with  this  little  cabin- 
room  were   all   of   the    mother-spoilt,  given- 


190        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

to  -  base  -  pleasures  princeling,  his  Highness 
Prince  Egon  von  Witgenstein.  The  thought 
that  the  Prince  might  be  in  Valoise,  lying 
in  wait  for  the  young  French  Red  Cross 
nurse,  disturbed  him,  made  him  restless. 
If  only  he  could  remember  !  But  it  was  as 
if  great  stretches  of  his  mind  and  memory 
were  darkened,  hopelessly. 

*  Honoured   miss  ?  '   he   muttered   feebly. 

And  she  answered,  oh  so  gently,  in  a 
voice  he  had  never  heard  her  use  to  him, 
though  often  these  last  few  days  he  had 
heard  it  whispering  kind,  consoling,  hopeful 
things  to  the  suffering  and  the  dying  :  '  Yes, 
my  friend  ?  ' 

'  Where  is  Prince  Egon — my  patient  who 
was  here  ?  ' 

'He  left  for  Paris  the  day  my  father 
became  so  much  worse  —  don't  you 
remember  ?  ' 

He  remembered  nothing,  but  the  nurse 
reassured  and  comforted  him,  gave  him  a 
sense  of  spacious  leisure  in  which  to  think 
of  himself.  '  What  has  to  me  happened  ?  * 
he  asked.     '  Why  am   I  here  ?  ' 

'  You  were  wounded  by  a  shell,  and  I 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         191 

think  by  the  wall  of  a  falling  house.  We — 
I  and  your  head  surgeon — thought  you  would 
be  more  comfortable  here  than  in  the  church.' 

'  And  have  you  the  whole  time  here  been  ?  ' 
he  asked  wonderingly. 

'  Yes,  and  I  have  promised  to  stay  with 
you  till  a  surgeon  comes.' 

'  You  are  hiilfneicher  than  any  surgeon,' 
he  muttered,  in  so  low  a  tone  that  she  had 
to  lift  herself  and  bend  over  him  to  hear  the 
words  she  did  not  understand. 

The  pale  white  glimmer  of  the  dawn 
filtered  through  the  white  curtain  stretched 
across  the  little  window,  and  she  saw  that 
there  was  a  change,  a  pinched  grey  look,  in 
his  face.  Tears  started  to  her  eyes.  Then 
he  was  not  better,  as  she  had  ardently  hoped. 
This  return  to  consciousness,  to  connected 
thought,  was  not  the  good  sign  she  had 
ignorantly  supposed  it  to  be  ? 

Suddenly  he  groaned,  a  spent,  weary 
groan.  '  Pardon,  honoured  miss,  it  is  fatigue 
which  the  pain  hard  makes.' 

She  gave  him  morphia.  '  Try  and  sleep 
my  poor  friend,  and  I  will  do  likewise.  The 
morning  will  soon  be  here.' 


192        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 


There  came  a  series  of  loud,  excited 
rappings  on  the  door.  It  burst  open,  and 
a  little  girl — a  child  to  whom  in  the  past, 
which  now  seemed  aeons  away,  she  had  been 
kind — stood  breathless,  smiling,  *  Mamselle  ! 
Mamselle  !  Our  soldiers  are  here !  Come 
and  see  them.  I  ran  away  from  mother  to 
tell  you  !     They  said  you  were  here.' 

Jeanne  Rouannes  put  a  finger  to  her 
lips.  She  gave  a  swift  look  at  the  unconscious 
form  stretched  stiffly  out  on  the  narrow  bed. 
If  only  she  could  get  a  surgeon  now,  at  once — 
Putting  on  her  cap,  she  followed  the  child 
up  the  wooden  steps  leading  to  the  deck  of 
the  barge,  and  even  as  she  did  so,  she  heard 
the  steady,  rhythmic  sound  of  marching, 
broken  across  by  confused,  shrill  cries  of 
joy  and  welcome. 

Her  heart  began    to    beat ;   she  hastened 

across  the  sunlit  deck  of  the  barge,  and  ran 

swiftly  down  the  narrow  stone  jetty,  with  the 

excited  little  girl  clinging  to  her  hand 

'  Les  voila  !     Les  voila  ! ' 

And    through    a    mist    of    tears    Jeanne 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        193 

Rouannes  gazed  on  a  sight  she  will  never 
forget. 

They  came  swinging  along,  the  familiar, 
active,  red-trousered  figures  looking  so  slight, 
so  short,  so  old-fashioned  after  the  huge, 
splendidly-equipped  Germans.  But  though 
war-worn,  shabby  as  their  predecessors  had 
never  been  shabby  even  at  their  worst,  these 
countrymen  of  hers  wore  their  hot,  short 
blue  jackets,  their  wide  poppy-coloured 
trousers  with  an  air — that  most  inspiring  air 
of  all  airs — the  air  of  victory. 

How  ecstatically  happy  the  sight  would 
have  made  Jeanne  Rouannes  a  month  ago  ! 
Now,  they  simply  seemed  to  her  oppressed 
heart  and  brain  a  pageant  which  brought 
vague  shadowy  fears,  and  a  need  on  her  part 
for  thought  and  action,  for  which  she  felt 
unfit,  inadequate. 

At  last  there  rode  up  a  regiment  of 
Dragoons.  Above  their  silver  helmets — still 
silver,  for  these  were  the  early  days  of  war, 
and  the  French  had  not  yet  learnt  the  wise 
and  cunning  tricks  of  their  enemies — black 
plumes  nodded.  Suddenly  they  were  halted, 
and  their  commander  turned  his  horse,  and 


194        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

rode  up  under  the  trees  to  the  spot  where 
the  Red  Cross  nurse  was  standing.  He 
lifted  his  helmet  off  his  head,  and  showed  a 
young,  brave,  happy  face.  />^ 

'  Madame  ?  '  he  said  courteously.  '  Can 
you  tell  me  when  the  Germans  left  Valoise  ? 
Have  they  had  time  to  go  far  ?  Did  they 
leave  in  order  or  in  disorder  ?  Is  it  true  that 
the  upper  part  of   the  town  is  in  ruins  ? ' 

She  answered  his  questions,  and  then 
put  one  of  her  own.  '  Have  you  a  Red  Cross 
doctor  here,  M.  le  Capitaine  ?  ' 

*  Alas  !  no.  The  Red  Cross  attached  to 
my  brigade  was  sent  for  yesterday.  There 
has  been  very  fierce  fighting,  Madame — 
a  series  of  great  combats.  But  my  troops 
are  comparatively  fresh — they  still  have  to 
win  their  laurels.'  He  looked  round,  and 
lowered  his  voice.  *  Have  you  any  German 
wounded  ?  I  hope  not.  But  though  they 
run  no  real  danger ' — ^he  had  seen  a  look  of — 
was  it  fear  ? — flash  into  her  face — '  our  soldiers 
are  terribly  incensed,  for  we  have  come 
across  awful  things  done  by  those  brutes 
during  the  last  few  days.'  His  face  con- 
tracted   with    reminiscent    pain    and    horror. 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE         195 

*  Such  sights  do  not  make  one  feel  tender 
to  even  a  wounded  Boche.' 

The  Red  Cross  nurse  gave  him  a  long 
sad  look.  What  beautiful,  sincere,  blue  eyes 
she  had — ^what  a  firm,  finely  drawn  mouth  ! 
He  wondered  v/here  her  husband  was  fighting. 

*  I  must  tell  you,  mon  capitaine,  that  there 
are,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  were,  a  number  of 
dying  Germans  in  the  church.  All  that  could 
be  moved  "  they  "  took  away.  But  down  here, 
in  the  barge,  I  have  a  very  special  case ' 

She  moistened  her  lips  and  went  desper- 
ately on,  scarcely  aware  that  he  was  listening 
to    her  with    great    respect    and  attention. 

*  The  dying  man  on  the  barge  is  an  English- 
man, himself  a  surgeon  of  the  Red  Cross, 
who  was  wounded  by  a  shell  only  yesterday. 
He  was  untiringly  good  to  our  wounded — 
to  all  the  wounded.  It  is  my  great  wish 
M.  le  Capitaine,  that  he  should  have  a 
quiet  death.' 

*  But  certainly,'  he  said  eagerly.  *  What 
would  not  I  do — what  would  we  not  all  do — 
for  any  Englishman  ?  I  will  put  two  of  my 
own  men  to  guard  the  approaches  to  your 
barge,  Madame.     As  for  the  wounded  in  the 


196        THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE 

church,  I  will  at  once  go  there  myself,  and 
see  that  everything  is  done  for  the  poor  devils.' 
They  bowed  ceremoniously  to  one  another, 
and  *  mon  capitaine '  allowed  himself  the 
pleasure  of  gazing  after  the  slight,  graceful 
figure  of  the  Red  Cross  nurse  as  long  as  it 
remained  within  his  arc  of  vision.  That  was 
not  long,  for  Jeanne  Rouannes  sped  away 
swiftly — fearful  of  what  she  would  find  in  the 
little  cabin  room.  It  seemed  to  her  so  long 
since  she  had  left  it,  and  she  was  nervously 
afraid  lest  he  might  have  recovered  conscious- 
ness, and  missed  her.  '  I  am  coming,'  she 
called  out,  breathlessly,  in  English,  and  then 
again  as  she  came  close  to  the  door,  *  I  am 
here,'  she  said. 

But  the  Herr  Doktor  went  on  staring 
sightlessly  before  him.  He  was  busily  talking, 
talking  argumentatively,  in  hoarse,  broken 
whispers  to  himself,  and  his  fingers  picked 
at  the  brown  blanket. 

Sinking  down  on  her  knees,  she  grasped 
his  clammy  hands  in  hers,  and  laid  them  to 
her  cheek  in  a  passion  of  desire  to  soothe, 
to  comfort,  to  make  easier  the  struggle  she 
thought  lay  immediately  before  him. 

Suddenly   there   floated   in   the   sound   of 


THE  RED  CROSS  BARGE        197 

men's  voices  singing — a  vast,  magnificent 
roaring  volume  of  sound — '  Allons,  enfants 
de  la  Patrie — ie — ie — ie    .  .  .' 

There  came  a  gleam  across  the  dying 
man's  face.  '  Das  ist  schon '  ('  That  is 
beautiful '),  he  whispered. 

* .  .  .  Ie  jour   de   gloire   est  arrive  !  ' 

The  Herr  Doktor  murmured  '  Das  geniigt 
mir  ! '  ('  That  is  enough ! ')  and  his  head  fell 
back,  sinking  deep  into  the  soft  pillow. 

Jeanne  Rouannes  went  on  holding  his 
dead  hand  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she 
got  up  from  her  knees,  and  made  the  sign 
of  the  Cross  on  his  damp  forehead.  As  she 
did  so,  there  burst  on  her  ears  the  closing 
lines  of  the  great  battle  hymn  of  freedom — 

Liberie  Libert^,  cherie, 

Combats  avec  tes  defenseurs  ! 

Sous  nos  drapeaux  que  la  victoire 

Accoure  a  tes  males  accents ! 

Que  tes  ennemis  expirants 

Voient  ton  triomphe  et  notre  gloire  ! 

and  the  terrible,  inspiring  refrain — 

Aux  armes,  citoyens  !    jormez  vos  bataillons 
Marchons  ; — qu^un  sang  impur 
Abreuve  nos  sillons  ! 


PRINTED   BY 

SFOTTISWOODE   AND  CO.   LTD.,  COLCHESTER 

LONDON   AND   ETON 


New    6s.    Fiction 


SECOND  IMPRESSION. 

CONAN  DOYLE'S  NEW  'SHERLOCK  HOLMES'  STORY. 

The      Valley      of      Fear.  WUh  >  Frontispiece. 

Bv  the  Author  of  '  The  Adventures  of  Sherlock  Holmes,'  '  The  Memoirs  of 
Sherlock  Holmes,'  '  The  Lost  World,'  &c. 

Punch.—'  As  rousing  a  sensation  as  the  greediest  of  us  could  want.  I  can 
only  praise  the  skill  with  which  a  most  complete  surprise  is  prepared.' 

Pall  Mall  Gazette.— '  My  Dear  Watson!  All  good  "  Sherlockians  "  will 
welcome  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle's  new  story  with  enthusiasm  ...  it  is  all  very 
thrilling  and  very  fine  reading.' 

Journeys  with  Jerry  the  Jarvey. 

By  the  Hon.  ALEXIS  ROCHE. 

Scoistnan. — '  The  stories  are  so  good  and  the  epigrams  so  quaint  that  one  is 
loath  to  lay  it  down,  A  book  that  can  3all  forth  a  hearty  laugh  on  nearly  every 
page.' 

Field. — '  The  stories  are  really  irresistible,  and  there  is  not  a  dull  page  in 
the  whole  book.' 


Oli 


SECOND    IMPRESSION. 
IVer.  By  B.  PAUL  NEUMAN, 

Author  of  '  The  Greatness  of  Josiah  Porlick,"  '  Chignett  Street,'  &o. 


Wesiminsier  Gazette. — '  The  first  hundred  pages  contain  as  fine  a  piece  of 
restrained  realistic  writing  as  our  recent  literature  has  put  forth.  We  laid  down 
this  very  individual  book  with  a  wholesome  respect  for  Mr.  Neuman's  literary  art.' 

Punch. — '  The  thing  is  remarkably  well  done,  a  close  and  unsparing  treat- 
ment of  a  subject  by  no  means  easy  ...  an  original  and  successful  story.' 

Two  Who  Declinea.  By  Herbert  tremaine. 

Evening  Standard. — 'A  striking,  even  absorbing  novel.  Its  author  will 
certainly  "  count  "  before  long.' 

Pall  Mall  Gazette. — 'A  very  clever  story,  and  a  work  of  great  promise.' 

SECOND  IMPRESSION. 

Some    Elderly    People    and    their 
Young  Friends.        By  s.  macnaughtan. 

Author  of  '  The  Fortune  of  Christina  McNab,'  '  A  Lame  Dog's  Diary,'  &c. 

Globe. — '  Miss  Macnaughtan  at  her  best.  All  her  characters  are  charming. 
Her  books  are  a  sovereign  remedy  for  depression  and  misanthropy. 

Daily  Telegraph. — 'One  of  the  most  engaging  stories  that  we  have  read 
for  a  goodly  while — a  story  full  of  lively  wit  and  mellow  wisdom.  Delightful 
is  indeed  the  word  which  best  sums  up  the  whole  book.' 

London  :    Smith,   Elder,  &  Co.,   15  Waterloo  Place,  S.W. 


New   Fiction 


Crown  8ro.     6s. 

In  Brief  Authority. 

By  F.  Anstey, 
Author  of  •  Vice  Ver»a,'  '  The  Brass  Bottle,*  &c. 

Punch. — '  In  these  days  a  fairy  fantasy  by  Mr.  F.  Anstey  comes  like 
a  breath  from  the  old  happiness  .  .  .  compelling  our  laughter  with  that 
delightful  jumble  of  magic  and  modernity  of  which  he  owns  the  secret. 
"  In  Brief  Authority "  shows  what  I  may  call  the  Anstey  formula  as 
potent  as  ever.     It  is  all  excellent  fooling.' 

Athenaum. — '  At  any  time  this  book  would  be  welcome ;  it  is  doubly 
so  to-day  when  a  "  short  breathing-space  from  the  battle  "  is  a  recurring 
necessity.' 

AMERICA'S   'BEST  SELLING   NOVEL.* 
Crown  8vo.     6s. 


*K.' 


By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart, 
Author  of  *  The  After  House,'  '  The  Street  of  Seven  Stars,'  &c. 

Sunday  Timea. — '  A  book  of  whose  unfailing  charm,  firmness  of 
handling,  and  pervading  atmosphere  of  understanding  and  sympathy, 
almost  any  living  writer  might  be  proud.' 

Morning  Post. — '  One  of  those  books  that  have  all  the  elements  of  a 
sudden  and  overwhelming  popularity.  Let  us  recommend  it  with  what 
authority  we  can.' 

Second   Edition.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d 

For  this  I  had  borne  Him. 

By  G.   F.   Bradby. 

Author  of  '  Dick  :  a  Story  without  a  Plot,'  '  When  every  Tree  was 
Green,'  '  The  Lanchester  Tradition,'  &c. 

Punch. — *  In  my  opinion  the  present  Dick  is  not  only  entirely  worthy 
of  the  earlier,  but  marks  by  far  the  highest  level  that  Mr.  Bradby  has  yet 
reached.  It  is  not  too  much  to  think  that  this  little  book  will  live  long 
as  a  witness  to  the  spirit  of  England  in  her  dark  hour. 

London  :  Smith,   Elder  &  Co.,    15  Waterloo  Place,  S.W. 


%'-^'K'i 


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