There were a few nurses there, in their white veils with the red cross

over the forehead, and one or two Englishwomen in hats that sat a trifle

too high on the tops of their heads and with long lists before them

which they checked as they ate. Aviators in leather coats; a few Spahis

in cloak and turban, with full-gathered bloomers and high boots; some

American ambulance drivers, rather noisy and very young; and many

officers, in every uniform of the Allied armies--sat at food together

and for a time forgot their anxieties under the influence of lights, food

and warmth, and red and white wine mixed with water.

When he chose, Jean could be a delightful companion; not with Henri's

lift of spirits, but quietly interesting. And that evening he was a new

Jean to Sara Lee, a man of the world, talking of world affairs. He

found her apt and intelligent, and for Sara Lee much that had been

clouded cleared up forever that night. Until then she had known only

the humanities of the war, or its inhumanities. There, over that little

table, she learned something of its politics and its inevitability. She

had been working in the dark, with her heart only. Now she began to

grasp the real significance of it all, of Belgium's anxiety for many

years, of Germany's cold and cruel preparation, and empty protests of

friendship. She learned of the flight of the government from Brussels,

the most important state papers being taken away in a hand cart, on top

of which, at the last moment, some flustered official had placed a tall

silk hat! She learned of the failure of great fortifications before the

invaders' heavy guns. And he had drawn for her such a picture of

Albert of Belgium as she was never to forget.

Perhaps Sara Lee's real growth began that night, over that simple dinner

at the Hotel des Arcades.

"I wish," she said at last, "that Uncle James could have heard all this.

He was always so puzzled about it all. And--you make it so clear."

When dinner was over a bit of tension had relaxed in her somewhat. She

had been too close, for too long. And when a group of Belgian officers,

learning who she was, asked to be presented and gravely thanked her, she

flushed with happiness.

"We must see if mademoiselle shall not have a medal," said the only one

who spoke English.

"A medal? For what?"

"For courage," he said, bowing. "Belgium has little to give, but it can

at least do honor to a brave lady."




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