第30章

She took it into her room and closed the door.When she came outagain she was composed and quiet, but rather white.Poor Henri! He was half mad that day with jealousy.Her whiteness he construed as longing.

This is a part of Harvey's letter:

You may think that I have become reconciled, but I have not.If I could see any reason for it I might.But what reason is there? So many others, older and more experienced, could do what you are doing, and more safely.

In your letter from the steamer you tell me not to worry.Good God, Sara Lee, how can I help worrying? I do not even know where you are! If you are in England, well and good.If you are abroad I do not want to know it.I know these foreigners.I run into them every day.And they do not understand American women.I get crazy when I think about it.I have had to let the Leete house go.There is not likely to be such a chance soon again.Business is good, but I don't seem to care much about it any more.Honestly, dear, I think you have treated me very badly.I always feel as though the people I meet are wondering if we have quarreled or what on earth took you away on this wild-goose chase.I don't know myself, so how can I tell them?

I shall always love you, Sara Lee.I guess I'm that sort.But sometimes I wonder if, when we are married, you will leave me again in some such uncalled-for way.I warn you now, dear, that I won't stand for it.I'm suffering too much.HARVEY.

Sara Lee wore the letter next her heart, but it did not warm her.She went through the next few hours in a sort of frozen composure and ate nothing at all.

Then came the bombardment.

Henri and Jean, driving out from Dunkirk, had passed on the road ammunition trains, waiting in the road until dark before moving on to the Front.Henri had given Sara Lee her letter, had watched jealously for its effect on her, and then, his own face white and set, had gone on down the ruined street.

Here within the walls of a destroyed house he disappeared.The place was evidently familiar to him, for he moved without hesitation.Brokenfurniture still stood in the roofless rooms, and in front of a battered bureau Henri paused.Still whistling under his breath, he took off his uniform and donned a strange one, of greenish gray.In the pocket of the blouse he stuffed a soft round cap of the same color.Then, resuming his cape and Belgian cap, with its tassel over his forehead, he went out into the street again.He carried in his belt a pistol, but it was not the one he had brought in with him.As a matter of fact, by the addition of the cap in his pocket, Henri was at that moment in the full uniform of a lieutenant of a Bavarian infantry regiment, pistol and all.

He went down the street and along the road toward the poplars.He met the first detachment of men out of the trenches just beyond the trees, and stepped aside into the mud to let them pass, calling a greeting to them out of the darkness.

"Bonsoir ! they replied, and saluted stiffly.There were few among them who did not know his voice, and fewer still who did not suspect his business.

"A brave man," they said among themselves as they went on.

"How long will he last?" asked one young soldier, a boy in his teens."One cannot live long who does as he does," replied a gaunt andbearded man."But it is a fine life while it continues.A fine life!"The boy stepped out of the shuffling line and looked behind him.He could see only the glow of Henri's eternal cigarette."I should like to go with him," he muttered wistfully.