interlude(玛丽罗茨莱因哈特惊人的幕间表演)-第17部分
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good。〃
He went away then； and Sara Lee got out her sewing things。 The tunic
came soon； carefully brushed and very ragged。 But it was not Jean who
brought it； it was the Flemish boy。
And up pstairs in a small room with two beds Sara Lee might have
been surprised to find Jean； the chauffeur； lying on one； while Henri
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
shaved himself beside the other。 For Jean； of the ragged uniform and the
patch over one eye； was a count of Belgium； and served Henri because he
loved him。 And because； too； he was no longer useful in that little army
where lay his heart。
Sometime a book will be written about the Jeans of this war； the great
friendships it has brought forth between men。 And not the least of its
stories will be that of this Jean of the one eye。 But its place is not here。
And perhaps there will be a book about the Henris； also。 But not for a
long time； and even then with care。 For the heroes of one department of an
army in the field live and die unsung。 Their bravest exploits are buried in
secrecy。 And that is as it must be。 But it is a fine tale to go untold。
After he had bathed and shaved； Henri sat down at a tiny table and
wrote。 He drew a plan also； from a rough one before him。 Then he took a
match and burned the original drawing until it was but charred black ashes。
When he had finished Jean got up from the bed and put on his overcoat。
〃To the King？〃 he said。 To the King； old friend。〃
Jean took the letter and went out。
Down below； Sara Lee sat with Henri's ragged tunic on her lap and
stitched carefully。 Sometime； she reflected； she would be mending worn
garments for another man； now far away。 A little flood of tenderness came
over her。 So helpless these men！ There was so much to do for them！ And
soon； please God； she would be helping other tired and weary men； with
food； and perhaps a word … when she had acquired some French … and
perhaps a thread and needle。
She dined alone that night； as usual。 Henri did not appear； though she
had sent what she suspected was his only tunic back to him neatly mended
at five o'clock。 As a matter of fact Henri was sound asleep。 He had meant
to rest only for an hour a body that was crying aloud with fatigue。 But Jean；
coming in quietly； had found him sleeping like a child； and had put his
own blanket over him and left him。 Henri slept until morning； when Jean；
coming up from his vigil outside the American girl's door； found him
waking and rested； and rang for coffee。
Jean sat down on the edge of his bed and put on his shoes and puttees。
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He was a taciturn man； but now he had something to say that he did not
like to say。 And Henri knew it。
〃What is it？〃 he asked； his arms under his head。 〃Come； let us have it！
It is； of course； about the American lady。〃
〃It is；〃 Jean said bluntly。 〃You cannot mix women and war。〃
〃And you think I am doing that？〃
〃I am not an idiot；〃 Jean growled。 〃You do not know what you are
doing。 I do。 She is young and lonely。 You are young and not unattractive to
women。 Already she turns pale when I so much as ask if she has heard
from you。〃
〃You asked her that？〃
〃You were gone much longer than …〃
〃And you thought I might send her word； and not you！〃 Henri's voice
was offended。 He lay back while the boy brought in the morning coffee
and rolls。
〃Let me tell you something；〃 he said when the boy had gone。 〃She is
betrothed to an American。 She wears a betrothal ring。 I am to her … the
French language！〃
But though Henri laughed Jean remained grave and brooding。 For
Henri had not said what Sara Lee already was to him。
It was later in the morning that Henri broached the subject again。 They
were in the courtyard of an old house； working over the engine of the car。
〃I think I have found a location for the young American lady；〃 he said。
Jean hammered for a considerable time at a refractory rim。
〃And where？〃 he asked at last。
Henri named the little town。 Like Henri's family name； it must not be
told。 Too many things happened there； and perhaps it is even now Henri's
headquarters。 For that portion of the line has changed very little。
Jean fell to renewed hammering。
〃If you will be silent I shall explain a plan；〃 Henri said in a cautious
tone。 〃She will make soup； with help which we shall find。 And if coming
in for refreshments a soldier shall leave a letter for me it is natural； is it
not？〃
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〃She will suspect； of course。〃
〃I think not。 And she reads no French。 None whatever。〃
Yet Jean's suspicions were not entirely allayed。 The plan had its
advantages。 It was important that Henri receive certain reports； and
already the hotel whispered that Henri was of the secret service。 It brought
him added deference； of course； but additional danger。
So Jean accepted the plan； but with reservation。 And it was not long
afterward that he said to Sara Lee； in French： 〃There is a spider on your
neck； mademoiselle。〃
But Sara Lee only said； 〃I'm sorry； Jean； you'll have to speak English
to me for a while； I'm afraid。〃
And though he watched her for five minutes she did not put her hand
to her neck。
However； that was later on。 That afternoon Henri spent an hour with
the Minister of War。 And at the end of that time he said： 〃Thank you；
Baron。 I think you will not regret it。 America must learn the truth； and how
better than through those friendly people who come to us to help？〃
It is as well to state； however； that he left the Minister of War with the
undoubted impression that Miss Sara Lee Kennedy was a spinster of
uncertain years。
Sara Lee packed her own suitcase that afternoon； doing it rather
nervously because Henri was standing in the room by the window waiting
for it。 He had come in as matter…of…factly as Harvey had entered the parlor
at Aunt Harriet's； except that he carried in his arms some six towels； a cake
of soap and what looked suspiciously like two sheets。
〃The house I have under consideration；〃 he said； 〃has little to
recommend it but the building； and even that … The occupants have gone
away； and … you are not a soldier。〃
Sara Lee eyed the bundle。
〃I don't need sheets；〃 she expostulated。
〃There are but two。 And Jean has placed blankets in the car。 You must
have a pillow also。〃
He calmly took one of the hotel pillows from the bed。 〃What else？〃 he
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asked calmly。 〃Cigarettes？ But no； you do not smoke。〃
Sara Lee eyed him with something very like despair。
〃Aren't you ever going to let me think for myself？〃
〃Would you have thought of these？〃 he demanded triumphantly。 〃You
… you think only of soup and tired soldiers。 Some one must think of you。〃
And there was a touch of tenderness in his voice。 Sara Lee felt it and
trembled slightly。 He was so fine； and he must not think of her that way。 It
was not real。 It couldn't be。 Men were lonely here； where everything was
hard and cruel。 They wanted some of the softness of life； and all of
kindness and sweetness that she could give should be Henri's。 But she
must make it clear that there could never be anything more。
There was a tightness about her mouth as she folded the white frock。
〃I know that garment；〃 he said boyishly。 〃Do you remember the night
you wore it？ And how we wandered in the square and made the plan that
has brought us together again？〃
Sara Lee reached down into her suitcase and brought up Harvey's
picture。
〃I would like you to see this；〃 she said a little breathlessly。 〃It is the
man I am to marry。〃
For a moment she thought Henri was not going to take it。 But he came；
rather slowly； and held out his hand for it。 He went with it to the window
and stood there for some time looking down at it。
〃When are you going to marry him； mademoielle？
〃As soon as I go back。〃
Sara Lee had expected some other comment； but he made none。 He put
the photograph very quietly on th
