She smiled again. 'Stay in bed,' she said. 'I will bring coffee to you at about eight o'clock.'
She went out and closed the door behind her; he remained for a tune staring thoughtfully after her. She was, he thought, a very peculiar young woman. He could not understand her at all. At Cidoton, as he remembered her, she had been an athletic young creature, very shy and reserved, as most middle-class French girls are. He remembered her chiefly for the incongruity of her close-curled, carefully-tended head, her daintily-trimmed eyebrows and her carefully-manicured hands, in contrast with the terrific speed with which she took the steepest slopes when sliding on a pair of skis. John, who himself was a fine skier, had told his father that he had his work cut out to keep ahead of her on a run. She took things straight that he made traverse on and never seemed to come to any harm. But she had a poor eye for ground, and frequently ran slowly on a piece of flat while he went sailing on ahead of her.
That was, literally, about all the old man could remember of her. He turned from the door and began slowly to undress. She had changed very much, it seemed to him. It had been nice of her to tell him in her queer, French way that she had been good friends with John; his heart wanned to her for that. Both she and her mother were being infinitely kind to him, and this proposal that Nicole should come with him to Brittany was so kind as to verge on the quixotic. He could not refuse the offer; already he had come near to giving pain by doing so. He would not press a refusal any more; to have her help might make the whole difference to his success in getting the children to England.
He put on the long nightgown and got into bed; the soft mattress and the smooth sheets were infinitely soothing after two nights spent in haylofts. He had not slept properly in bed since leaving Cidoton.
She had changed very much, that girl. She still had the carefully-tended curly head; the trimmed eyebrows and the manicured hands were just the same. But her whole expression was different. She looked ten years older; the dark shadows beneath her eyes matched the black scarf she wore about her neck. Quite suddenly the thought came into his mind that she looked like a widow. She was a young, unmarried girl, but that was what she reminded him of, a young widow. He wondered if she had lost a fiance' in the war. He must ask her mother, delicately, before he left the flat; it would be as well to know in order that he might avoid any topic that was painful to her.
With all that, she seemed very odd to him. He did not understand her at all. But presently the tired limbs relaxed, his active mind moved more slowly, and he drifted into sleep.
He slept all through the night, an unusual feat for a man of his age. He was still sleeping when she came in with his coffee and rolls on a tray at about a quarter past eight. He woke easily and sat up in bed, and thanked her.
She was fully dressed. Beyond her, in the corridor, the children stood, dressed and washed, peeping in at the door. Pierre ventured in a little way.
'Good morning, Pierre,' said the old man gravely. The little boy placed his hand on his stomach and bowed to him from the waist. 'Bon jour, M'sieur Howard.'
The girl laughed and ran her hand through his hair. 'It is a little boy bien eleve, this one,' she said. 'Not like the other ones that you have collected.'
He said a little anxiously: 'I do hope that they have not been a trouble to you, mademoiselle.'
She said: 'Children will never trouble me, monsieur.'
He thought again, a very odd young woman with a very odd way of expressing herself.
She told him that her mother was already out marketing in the town, and making certain enquiries. She would be back in half an hour or so; then they would make their plans.
The girl brought him the grey suit of her father's, rather worn and shabby, with a pair of old brown canvas shoes, a horrible violet shirt, a celluloid collar rather yellow with age, and an unpleasant tie. These clothes are not very chic,' she said apologetically. 'But it will be better for you to wear them, Monsieur Howard, because then you will appear like one of the little bourgeoisie. I assure you, we will keep your own clothes for you very carefully. My mother will put them in the cedar chest with the blankets, because of the moths, you understand.'
Three-quarters of an hour later he was up and dressed, and standing in the salon while the girl viewed him critically. 'You should not have shaved again so soon,' she said. 'It makes the wrong effect, that.'
He said that he was sorry. Then he took note of her appearance. 'You have made yourself look shabby to come with me, mademoiselle,' he said. That is a very kind thing to have done.'
She said: 'Marie, the servant, lent me this dress.'
She wore a very plain, black dress to her ankles, without adornment of any kind. On her feet she wore low-heeled, clumsy shoes and coarse black stockings.
Madame Rougeron came in and put down her basket on the table in the salon. There is a train for Rennes at noon,' she said unemotionally. There is a German soldier at the guichet who asks why you must travel, but they do not look at papers. They are very courteous and correct.' She paused. 'But there is another thing.'
She took from the pocket of her gown a folded handbill. 'A German soldier left this paper with the concierge this morning. There was one for each apartment.'
They spread it out on the table. It was in French, and it read: CITIZENS OF THE REPUBLIC!
The treacherous English, who have forced this unnecessary war on us, have been driven into disorderly flight from our country. Now is the time to rise and root out these plutocratic warmongers wherever they may be hiding, before they have time to plot fresh trouble for France.
These scoundrels who are roaming the country and living in secret in our homes like disgusting parasites, will commit acts of sabotage and espionage and make trouble for all of us with the Germans, who are only anxious to build up a peaceful regime in our country. If these cowardly fugitives should commit such acts, the Germans will keep our fathers, our husbands, and our sons in long captivity. Help to bring back your men by driving out these pests!
It is your duty if you know of an Englishman in hiding to tell the gendarmerie, or tell the nearest German soldier. This is a simple thing that anyone can do, which will bring peace and freedom to our beloved land.
Severe penalties await those who shield these rats.
VIVE LA FRANCE!
Howard read it through quietly twice. Then he said: 'It seems that I am one of the rats, madame. After this, I think it would be better that I should go alone, with the children.'
She said that it was not to be thought of. And then she said, Nicole would never agree.
The girl said: That is very true. It would be impossible for you to go alone, as things are now. I do not think you would get very far before the Germans found that you were not a Frenchman, even in those clothes.' She flipped the paper with disgust. This is a German thing,' she said. 'You must not think that French people talk like this, Monsieur Howard.'
'It is very nearly the truth,' he said ruefully.
'It is an enormous lie,' she said.
She went out of the room. The old man, grasping the opportunity, turned to her mother. 'Your daughter has changed greatly since we were at Cidoton, madame,' he said.
The woman looked at him. 'She has suffered a great deal, monsieur.'
He said: 'I am most sorry to hear that. If you could tell me something about it - perhaps I could avoid hurling her in conversation.'
She stared at him. 'You do not know, then?'
'How should I know anything about her trouble, madame?' he said gently. 'It is something that has happened since we met at Cidoton.'
She hesitated for a minute. Then she said: 'She was in love with a young man. We did not arrange the affair and she tells me nothing.'
'All young people are like that,' he said, quietly. 'My son was the same. The young man is a prisoner in German hands, perhaps?'
Madame said: 'No, monsieur. He is dead.'
Nicole came bursting into the room, a little fibre case in her hand. 'This we will carry in your perambulator,' she said. 'Now, monsieur, I am ready to go.'
There was no time for any more conversation with Madame Rougeron, but Howard felt he had the gist of it; indeed, it was just what he had expected. It was hard on the girl, terribly hard; perhaps this journey, dangerous
