The Girl from Alsace Part 28

He was awakened by a touch on the arm, and opened his eyes to find the sun high in the heavens and his comrade looking down at him with face almost equally radiant.

"I did not like to wake you," she said, "but it is getting late."

Stewart sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked at her again. Her hair was neatly combed, her face was fresh and shining, her hands showed some ugly scratches but were scrupulously clean. Even her clothing, though torn here and there, had evidently been carefully brushed.

"What astounds me," said Stewart, deliberately, "is how you do it. You spend the first half of the night scrambling over rocks and through briars, and the second half sleeping on the bare ground, and you emerge in the morning as fresh and radiant as though you had just stepped from your boudoir. I wish I knew the secret."

"Come and I will show you," she said, laughing gayly, and she led him away into the wood.

Presently he heard the sound of falling water, and his guide brought him triumphantly to a brook gurgling over mossy rocks, at whose foot was a shallow basin.

"There is my boudoir," she said. "The secret of beauty is in the bath. I will reconnoiter the neighborhood while you try it for yourself."

Stewart flung off his clothes, splashed joyously into the cold, clear water, and had perhaps the most delicious bath of his life. There was no soap, to be sure, but much may be done by persistent rubbing; and there were no towels, but the warm wind of the morning made them almost unnecessary. He got back into his clothes again with a sense of astonishing well-being--except for a most persistent gnawing at his stomach.

"I wonder where we shall breakfast to-day?" he mused as he laced his shoes. "Nowhere, most probably! Oh, well, if that dear girl can stand it, I oughtn't to complain!"

And he fell to thinking of her, of her slim grace, of the curve of her red lips----

"Confound it!" he said. "I can't stand it much longer. Friendship is all very well, and the big brother act may do for a while--but I can't keep it up forever, and what's more, I won't!"

And then he heard her calling, in the clear, high voice he had grown to love.

"All right!" he shouted. "Come along!"

Presently she appeared between the trees, and he watched her with beating heart--so straight, so supple, so perfect in every line.

"Did the magic work?" she inquired, gayly.

"Partly; but it takes more than water to remove a two-days' growth of beard," and Stewart ran a rueful finger over his stubbly chin. "But can it be only two days since you burst into my room at the Kolner Hof, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me!"

"Please do not speak of it!" she pleaded, with crimson cheeks. "It was not an easy thing for a girl to do; but that spy was watching--so I nerved myself, and----"

"You did it very well, indeed," he said, reminiscently. "And to think that not once since then----"

"Once was quite enough."

"Oh, I don't blame you; I know I'm not an attractive object. People will be taking us for beauty and the beast."

"Neither the one nor the other!" she corrected.

"Well, I take back the beast; but not the beauty! You are the loveliest thing I ever saw," he added, huskily. "The very loveliest!"

She looked down at him for an instant, and her eyes were very tender; then she looked hastily away.

"There were to be no compliments until we were out of Germany," she reminded him.

"We are out of Germany," he said, and got slowly to his feet, his eyes on fire.

"No, no," she protested, backing hastily away from him. "This is German ground--let me show you!" and she ran before him out into the meadow.

"Look down yonder!"

Looking down, Stewart saw the mighty army which had been mustered to crush France.

As far as the eye could reach, and from side to side of the broad valley, it stretched--ma.s.ses of men and horses and wagons and artillery--ma.s.ses and ma.s.ses--thousands upon thousands--mile upon mile.

A broad highway ran along either side of the river, and along each road a compact host moved steadily westward toward Liege.

Suddenly from the west came the thunder of heavy guns, and Stewart knew that the attack had commenced again. Again men were being driven forward to death, as they would be driven day after day, until the end, whatever that might be. And whatever it was, not a single dead man could be brought to life; not a single maimed man made whole; not a single dollar of the treasure which was being poured out like a flood could be recovered. It was all lost, wasted, worse than wasted, since it was being used to destroy, not to create! Incredible--impossible--it could not be! Even with that mighty army beneath his eyes, Stewart told himself for the hundredth time that it could not be!

The voice of his comrade broke in upon his thoughts.

"We must work our way westward along the hills until we come to the Meuse," she said. "This is the valley of the Vesdre, which flows into the Meuse, so we have only to follow it."

"Can't you prevail upon your fairy G.o.dmother to provide breakfast first?" asked Stewart. "I'm sure you have only to wish for it, and the table would appear laden with an iced melon, bacon and eggs, crisp rolls, yellow b.u.t.ter, and a pot of coffee--I think I can smell the coffee!" He closed his eyes and sniffed. "How perfect it would be to sit right here and eat that breakfast and watch the Germans! Oh, well," he added, as she turned away, "if not here, then somewhere else. Wait!

Isn't that a house over yonder?"

It was indeed a tiny house whose gable just showed among the trees, and they made their way cautiously toward it. It stood at the side of a small garden, with two or three outbuildings about it, and it was shielded on one side by an orchard. No smoke rose from the chimney, nor was there any sign of life.

And then Stewart, who had been crouching behind the hedge beside his companion, looking at all this, rose suddenly to his feet and started forward.

"Come on," he cried; "the Germans haven't been this way--there's a chicken," and he pointed to where a plump hen was scratching industriously under the hedge.

"Here is another sign," said the girl, as they crossed the garden, and pointed to the ground. "The potatoes and turnips have not been dug."

"It must be here we're going to have that breakfast!" cried Stewart, and knocked triumphantly at the door.

There was no response and he knocked again. Then he tried the door, but it was locked. There was another door at the rear of the house, but it also was locked. There were also three windows, but they were all tightly closed with wooden shutters.

"We've got to have something to eat, that's certain," said Stewart, doggedly. "We shall have to break in," and he looked about for a weapon with which to attack the door.

"No, no," protested the girl, quickly. "That would be too like the Uhlans! Let us see if there is not some other way!"

"What other way can there be?"

"Perhaps there is none," she answered; "and if there is not, we will go on our way, and leave this house undamaged. You too seem to have been poisoned by this virus of war!"

"I only know I'm starving!" said Stewart. "If I've been poisoned by anything, it's by the virus of appet.i.te!"

"If you were in your own country, and found yourself hungry, would you break into the first house you came to in order to get food?" she demanded. "Certainly not--you would do without food before you would do that. Is it not so?"

"Yes," said Stewart, in a low tone. "That is so. You are right."

"Perhaps I can find something," she said, more gently. "At least I will try. Remain here for a moment," and she hurried away toward the outbuildings.

Stewart stared out into the road and reflected how easy--how inevitable almost--it was to become a robber among thieves, a murderer among cut-throats. And he understood how it happens that in war even the kindliest man may become blood-thirsty, even the most honest a looter of defenseless homes.

"See what I have found!" cried a voice, and he turned to see the girl running toward him with hands outstretched. In each hand she held three eggs.