interlude(玛丽罗茨莱因哈特惊人的幕间表演)-第21章
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the ammunition train。
The crossroads was crowded； as usual … many soldiers； at rest； waiting
for the word to fall in； a battery held up by the breaking of a wheel。 A
temporary forge had been set up； and soldiers in leather aprons were
working over the fire。 A handful of peasants watched； their dull eyes
following every gesture。 And one of them was a man Henri sought。
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Henri sat down on the ground and lighted a cigarette。 The ammunition
train rolled in and halted； and the man Henri watched turned his attention
to the train。 He had been dull and quiet at the forge； but now he became
smiling； a good fellow。 He found a man he knew among the drivers and
offered him a cigarette。 He also produced and presented an entire box of
matches。 Matches were very dear； and hardly to be bought at any price。
Henri watched grimly and hummed a little song：
〃Trou la la； ce ne va guere； Trou la la； ca ne va pas。〃
Still humming under his breath； when the peasant left the crossroads
he followed him。 Not closely。 The peasant cut across the fields。 Henri
followed the road and entered the fields at a different angle。 He knew his
way quite well； for he had done the same thing each day for four days。
Only twice he had been a Belgian peasant； and once he was an officer； and
once he had been a priest。
Four days he had done this thing； but to…day was different。 To…day
there would be something worth while； he fancied。 And he made a mental
note that Sara Lee must not be in the little house that night。
When he had got to a canal where the pollard willows were already
sending out their tiny red buds； Henri sat down again。 The village lay
before him； desolate and ruined； a travesty of homes。 And on a slight rise；
but so concealed from him by the willows that only the great wings
showed； stood the windmill。
It was the noon respite then； and beyond the line of popiars all as quiet。
The enemy liked time for foods and the Belgians crippled by the loss of
that earlier train； were husbanding their ammunition。 Far away a gap in the
poplar trees showed a German observation balloon； a tiny dot against the
sky。
The man Henri watched went slowly； for he carried a bag of grain on
his back。 Henri no longed watched him； He watched the wind wheel。 It
had been broken； and one plane was now patched with what looked like a
red cloth。 There was a good wind； but clearly the miller was idle that day。
The great wings were not turning。
Henri sat still and smoked。 He thought of many things … of Sara Lee's
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eyes when in the center of the London traffic she had held the dying
donkey； of her small and radiant figure at the Savoy； of the morning he
had found her at Calais； in the Gare Maritime； quietly unconscious that she
had done a courageous thing。 And he thought； too； of the ring and the
photograph she carried。 But mostly he remembered the things she had said
to him on their last meeting。
Perhaps there came to him his temptation too。 It would be so easy that
night； if things went well； to make a brave showing before her； to let her
see that these odd jobs he did had their value and their risks。 But he put
that from him。 The little house of mercy must be empty that night； for her
sake。 He shivered as he remembered the room where she slept； the corner
that was shot away and left open to the street。 So he sat and watched。
And at one o'clock the mill wheel began turning。 It was easy to count the
revolutions by the red wing。 Nine times it turned； and stopped。 After five
minutes or so it turned again； thirty times。 Henri smiled： an ugly smile。
〃A good guess；〃 he said to himself。 〃But it must be more than a guess。〃
His work for the afternoon was done。 Still with the bent…kneed swing
he struck back to the road； and avoiding the crossroads； went across more
fields to a lane where Jean waited with the car。 Henri took a plunge into
the canal when he had removed his French uniform； and producing a towel
from under a hush rubbed himself dry。 His lean boyish body gleamed；
arms and legs brown from much swimming under peaceful summer suns。
On his chest he showed two scars； still pink。 Shrapnel bites； he called them。
But he had； it is to be feared； a certain young satisfaction in them。
He was in high good humor。 The water was icy； and Jean had refused
to join him。
My passion for cleanliness；〃 Henri said blithely； 〃is the result of my
English school days。 You would have been the better for an English
education； Jean。〃
A canal in March！〃 Jean grunted。 〃You will end badly。〃
Henri looked longingly at the water。
〃Had I a dry towel；〃 he said； 〃I would go in again〃
Jean looked at him with his one eye。
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〃You would be prettier without those scars〃 he observed。 But in his
heart he prayed that there might be no others added to them； that nothing
might mar or destroy that bright and youthful body。
〃Depechez…vous！ Vous sommes Presses！〃 he added。
But Henri was minded to play。 He girded himself with the towel and
struck an attitude。 〃The Russian ballet； Jean！〃 he said； and capering madly
sent Jean into deep grumbles of laughter by his burlesque。
〃I must have exercise；〃 Henri said at last when； breathless and with
flying hair； he began to dress。 That； too； is my English schooling。 If you；
Jean。 …〃
〃To the devil with your English schooling！〃 Jean remonstrated。
Henri sobered quickly after that。 The exhilaration of his cold plunge
was over。
〃The American lady？〃 he asked。 〃She is all right？〃
〃She is worried。 There is not enough money。〃
Henri frowned。 〃And I have nothing！〃
This opened up an old wound with Jean。
〃If you would be practical and take pay for what you are doing；〃 he
began。
Henri cut him short。
〃Pay！〃 he said。 〃What is there to pay me with？ And what is the use of
reopening the matter？ A man may be a spy for love of his country。 God
knows there is enough lying and deceit in the business。 But to be a spy or
money…never！〃
There was a little silence。 Then： 〃Now for mademoiselle；〃 said Henri。
〃She must be out of the village to…night。 And that； dear friend； must be
your affair。 She does not like me。〃
All the life had gone out of his voice。
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CHAPTER XV
〃But why should I go？〃 Sara Lee asked。 〃It is kind of you to ask me；
Jean。 But I am here to work； not to play。〃
Long ago Sara Lee had abandoned her idea of Jean as a paid chauffeur。
She even surmised； from something Marie had said； that he had been a
person of importance in the Belgium of before the war。 So she was
grateful； but inclined to be obstinate。
〃You have been so much alone； mademoiselle …〃
〃Alone！〃
〃Cut off from your own kind。 And now and then one finds； at the hotel
in Dunkirk； some English nurses who are having a holiday。 You would like
to talk to them perhaps。〃
〃Jean；〃 she said unexpectedly； 〃why don't you tell me the truth？ You
want me to leave the village tonight。 Why？〃
〃Because； mademoiselle； there will be a bombardment。〃
〃The village itself？〃
〃We expect it；〃 he answered dryly。
Sara Lee went a little pale。
〃But then I shall be needed； as I was before。〃
〃No troops will pass through the town to…night。 They will take a road
beyond the fields。〃
〃How do you know these things？〃 she asked； wondering。 〃About the
troops I can understand。 But the bombardment。〃
〃There are ways of finding out； mademoiselle；〃 he replied in his
noncommittal voice。 〃Now； will you go？〃
May I tell Marie and Rene？〃
〃 No。〃
〃Then I shall not go。 How can you think that I would consider my own
safety and leave them here？〃
Jean had ascertained before speaking that Marie was not in the house。
As for Rene； he sat on the single doorstep and whittled pegs on which to
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hang his rifle inside the door。 And as he carved he sang words of his own
to the tune of Tipperary。
Inside the little salle a manger Jean reassured Sara Lee。 It was
important … vital … that Rene and Marie should not know far in advance of
the bombardment。 They were loyal； certainly； but these were his orders。 In
abundance of time they would be warned to leave the village。
〃Who is to warn them？〃
〃Henri has promised； mademoiselle。 And what he promises is done。〃
〃You said this morning that he was in England。〃
〃He has returned。〃
Sara Lee's heart； which had been going along nerely as a matter of
duty ll day； suddenly began to beat faster。 Her color came up； and then
faded again。 He had returned； and he had not come to the little house。 But
then … what could Henri mean to her； his coming or his going？ Was she to
add to her other sins against Harvey the supreme one of being interested in
Henri？
Not that she said all that； even to herself。 There was a wave of
gladness and then a surge of remorse。 That is all。 But it was a very sober
Sara Lee who put on her black suit with the white collar that afternoon and
ordered； by Jean's suggestion； the evening's preparations as though nothing
was to happen。
She looked round her little room before she left it。 It might not be there
when she returned。 So she placed Harvey's photograph under her mattress
for safety； and rather uncomfortably she laid beside it the small ivory
crucifix that Henri had found in a ruined house and brought to her。 Harvey
was not a Catholic。 He did not believe in visualizing his religion。 And she
had a distinct impression that he considered such things as did so as
bordering on idolatry。
Sometime after dusk that evening the ammunition train moved out。 At
a point a mile or so from the village a dispatch rider
