Then, one day, coming out of the little church, she saw the low broken
gray car turn in at the top of the street and come slowly, so very
slowly, toward her. There were two men in it.
One was Henri.
She ran, stumbling because of tears, up the street. It was Henri! There
was no mistake. There he sat beside Jean, brushed and very neat; and
very, very white.
"Mademoiselle!" he said, and came very close to crying himself when he
saw her face. He was greatly excited. His sunken eyes devoured her as
she ran toward him. Almost he held out his arms. But he could not do
that, even if he would, for one was bandaged to his side.
It is rather sad to record how many times Sara Lee wept during her
amazing interlude. For here is another time. She wept for joy and
wretchedness. She stood on the running board and cried and smiled. And
Jean winked his one eye rapidly.
"This idiot, mademoiselle," he said gruffly, "this maniac--he would not
remain in Calais, with proper care. He must come on here. And rapidly.
Could he have taken the wheel from me we should have been here an hour
ago. But for once I have an advantage."
The car jolted to the little house, and Jean helped Henri out. Such a
strange Henri, smiling and joyous, and walking at a crawl, even with
Jean's support. He protested violently against being put to bed, and
when he found himself led into Sara Lee's small room he openly rebelled.
"Never!" he said stubbornly, halting in the doorway. "This is
mademoiselle's boudoir. Her drawing-room as well. I am going to the
mill house and--"
He staggered.
So Sara Lee's room had a different occupant for a time, a thin and
fine-worn young Belgian, who yielded to Sara Lee when Jean gave up in
despair, and who proceeded, most unmanfully, to faint as soon as he was
between the blankets.
If Sara Lee hoped to nurse Henri she was doomed to disappointment. Jean
it was who took over the care of the boy, a Jean who now ate prodigiously,
and whistled occasionally, and slept at night robed in his blanket on the
floor beside Henri's bed, lest that rebellious invalid get up and try to
move about.
On the first night, with the door closed, against Henri's entreaties,
while the little house received its evening complement of men, and with
Henri lying back on his pillows, fresh dressed as to the wounds in his
arm and chest, fed with Sara Lee's daintiest, and resting, Jean found the
boy's eyes resting on the mantel.