The Red Cross Barge

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

3

When they had reached the middle of the square, the Herr Doktor slackened his pace and looked about him in some perplexity. He suspected the two shells which had fallen so wide to be French shells, and if that were so, there might soon be sharp fighting in the very streets of Valoise. Anxiously he began asking himself which would be the safest shelter for the girl who now stood, silent and rigid, by his side? Should he take her home to the house in the Haute-Ville or down to the Red Cross barge?

Four streets led out of the square. It was clear that the widest must lead more or less straight down to the river. It was along that wider way that Monsieur le Curé, his sable-and-silver vestments flapping in the wind, was now hurrying. Staring after the strange, solitary figure, the Herr Doktor bethought himself uneasily of the old man's words of warning. It might well be true that Jeanne Rouannès would be safer in her Red Cross uniform—safer, that is, from the discourtesy of rough, stern words. Not for a moment did Max Keller fear or admit, even in his innermost heart, that his fellow-countrymen could behave ill to the women of conquered France. To his mind such an accusation was as base as it was baseless. But he knew that many apparently harsh rules and regulations had had to be drawn up concerning the conduct of the civilian population. Most fortunately Jeanne Rouannès, in her Red Cross dress, formed part of an International Society, and thus was assured of exceptional respect and courtesy.

And yet as he stood there, debating quickly within himself what it were best to do, he, Max Keller, felt a jealous pang of repugnance at the thought of the young Frenchwoman being brought in contact with—well, with the Prince Egon type of Prussian officer. Deep in his heart he knew only too well how small was the measure of respect that type of German is prepared to pay to any pretty woman with whom a lucky chance brings him in contact. Governed by that secret, reluctant knowledge, the Herr Doktor at last traced out a certain line of conduct for himself—one, too, which he believed it would be quite easy to carry out. That course was to take Mademoiselle Rouannès back to her own house, after which, having left her safe with old Jacob and Thérèse, he, in his official capacity, would seek out the officer in command of the troops about to occupy Valoise, and obtain a pass for a French Red Cross nurse. With that in his possession, it would surely be easy for them to proceed to Paris in his motor ambulance.

'Which way to your house leads?' he asked quietly.

But even as the words left his lips, there suddenly surged up a loud, confused, and menacing sound. With a strange feeling of fear, strange to Max Keller, for he was a brave man, he realised that it was the curious, sinister clamour caused by the undisciplined tramp of a crowd of hurrying men—a sound differing ominously from that produced by the ordered, measured, rhythmic march of soldiers....

Nearer and nearer came the tramp of thudding, shuffling feet. Jeanne Rouannès moved closer to him, so close that he heard the hoarse, despairing whisper answering her own unuttered question—'Ce sont les Prussiens!'

She was glancing about her this way and that—a wild spasm of dread, that of a trapped creature, in her pale face. But every window in the square had been shuttered, every door locked and barred.

'Shall I go up into the cemetery again?' She spoke in English, her lips hardly moving.

The Herr Doktor looked straight into her face; her eyes were steady, but her lips trembled, and her hands were pressed together. He divined the mingled fear and shame—the shame and fear of being so horribly afraid—which possessed her.

'No, no—with me are you quite safe!'

Ah! If only he could make her, his beloved, understand his own complete understanding of her—if only he could lift her beautiful soul up into the ether where his own had dwelt ever since he had first seen her—then she would know how secure from harm she was in his company, and in that of his fellow-countrymen!

But the time had not yet come when he could say even a millionth part of what was in his heart, and so with a jolt he came down to this earth-bound little French town of Valoise, and once more he repeated reassuringly, 'With me are you quite safe.' And indeed he believed what he said. He had no fear but that his fellow-countrymen, even if drunk with victory, aye, and perchance with good French wine as well, would respect his uniform, and the presence of the mourning lady by his side.

But even so, as nearer and nearer came the sound of trampling feet, of loud, confused talk, there did come over the Herr Doktor's mind a disagreeable recollection of the old priest's hurried, broken account of the looting and the drinking which were said to have been going on in places near Valoise.

It would be indeed a misfortune were Mademoiselle Rouannès to see the noble German soldier at a disadvantage. And then, while this unspoken fear was still passing through his brain, there suddenly surged up one of the narrower streets leading into the little square a motley crowd of grey-clad men.

Soldiers? Yes, men belonging to the famous Brandenburg Regiment, but now, to the Herr Doktor's disciplined eyes, presenting a sorry, and indeed, a shocking appearance. Some lacked their helmets, some their coats; a few still had their rifles, but all were dirty and unkempt.

It was not the first time the Herr Doktor had seen soldiers in this guise; so had many of the victorious German troops appeared after the hard-fought battle of Charleroi. And yet? And yet there had been a vast difference between those men and these, though he was not yet able to define where that difference lay.

---

When those who appeared to be the leaders of the unkempt rabble saw the two figures standing in the sunlit square, their line wavered, and some of them drew back, while the loud talking died down into a surprised silence.

There came quickly forward the burly figure of a non-commissioned officer, one, too, who had almost all of his accoutrement complete.

'Herr Doktor?' he exclaimed eagerly. 'We were told there was a good wine-shop up this way! Can you direct me to it? My men are badly in need of food and rest, and every inn in the lower part of the town has already been taken by assault'—he spoke complainingly; it was clear that he was labouring under a sense of grievance.

'But—but where have you come from?' asked the Herr Doktor in a low voice. He felt bewildered—bewildered and strangely oppressed. 'I don't understand how or why you are here, in Valoise-sur-Marne?'

'And yet it's clear enough!' said the other sharply. 'We were promised good beds, plenty to eat, and above all plenty to drink, once we reached Valoise. We find the town practically deserted—only old women and a few children left in it! As for wine'—he shrugged his shoulders. 'Just now the Mayor was required to produce twenty thousand bottles of wine. Do you know, Herr Doktor, how many he offers to provide?' He waited, and as the Herr Doktor remained silent, he suddenly shouted out, 'Eight hundred bottles! What is that among three thousand men? Of course we excluded the wine-shops as a source of supply—the wine-shops were already emptied before we managed to hunt out the Mayor. Our officers are furious!'

'The officers will get plenty of good wine at the Tournebride——'

The Herr Doktor knew now wherein lay the difference between the victors of Charleroi, and the men who stood staring stupidly before him. The victors of Charleroi had been sober; these countrymen of his were already more or less drunk.

But what was this the corporal was saying, smiling angrily the while? 'The Tournebride? Nay, those of our comrades who passed that way three weeks ago seem to have been locusts—what they couldn't drink they took away! All they left behind them is poison—rank poison! Cheap blue stuff, and not a single bottle of beer!'

There came a quick stir among the soldiers, and they parted to make way for a tall, fine-looking young officer. But he also looked worn, haggard, and angry. His face cleared somewhat as he came up to his two fellow-countrymen, and softened as his eye rested on the black-draped, fair-haired figure who now stood, with eyes cast down, and hands loosely clasped together, some way apart from the Red Cross doctor and his companion.

'I was told that I should probably find you up here, Herr Doktor! A woman down by the river directed me. Is it true that you've been in this town a fortnight, and that a number of our fellows stayed here a week and ate and drank up everything—the locusts? Not content with drinking up all the wine, it's clear that they also took all the young women away with them! They had, however, mercy on you!' With a smile and a slight gesture towards Jeanne Rouannès, he added a few joking words which made the hot colour rush to the Herr Doktor's face.

'This lady,' he said stiffly, 'is a distinguished Sister of the Red Cross. It is in that capacity that she is now under my protection and care. Her father died but yesterday.'

The other had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

'Yes, yes,' he said hastily. 'I understand that—the woman by the river told me of the funeral. But, Herr Doktor? In your place I should take this Red Cross demoiselle straight back to her hospital, and, unless it is absolutely necessary, do not go down into the lower part of the town. When I said just now that there was no wine left in Valoise, it was merely a figure of speech. Of course, there is wine; in fact our weary fellows have got hold of a fair amount but it is not good—it is not the sort that we hoped to find here!'

There were many pressing questions on the Herr Doktor's lips, but he judged it best not to ask them. Instead he only observed: 'I am very desirous to get a pass into Paris for this Sister of Compassion. Her father was my colleague, a doctor, that is, of the Red Cross, and on his bed of death I promised him to try and procure a suitable escort and a pass into Paris for his daughter. So pray inform me, Herr Captain, of the name of our Commandant. Where can I find him?—is he at the Tournebride?'

The other turned, and gazed with a singular expression at the Herr Doktor. 'You will not be able to get a pass into Paris from any of us just now,' he said slowly. 'No doubt the time will come when you will be able to do so. But we do not yet hold the gates of Paris.' He waited a moment, then asked abruptly, 'Does this Red Cross Sister know our language?'

'No, not one word of it.'

'Then I will tell you,' and even so he lowered his voice, 'that we were within one day's march of Paris when came the order to make a turning movement. Do not ask me why, my dear fellow! I know less than nothing about it—only the bare fact. Ask Von Kluck the reason the next time you meet him! For the last three days we have been fighting—fighting and, well, yes, retreating, by night as well as day. That is why my men are worn out. Yesterday evening we were badly surprised, and as our fellows ran they threw away everything—everything which could impede their flight——'

'Their flight?' repeated the Herr Doktor, in a dazed voice.

'Yes, their flight,' said the other shortly, 'or if you prefer the word, my dear Herr Doktor, their rout! But we shall soon re-form. It is but a temporary check. We must not expect to meet nothing but astounding victories—such victories as have blessed us hitherto—in war. The British, at any rate are done—rolled up, put out of action altogether. It is a new French army which circled round from Versailles, commanded, they say, by Maunoury, which upset our calculations.' He added, lowering his voice yet more: 'But we are falling back on prepared positions, beyond the Aisne.'

'Then are the French just behind you—close to Valoise?'

'Not very far off,' said the other drily, but not likely to enter the town yet awhile. We have found excellent gun positions up there'—he pointed vaguely beyond the cemetery—'and this place should be easy to defend.'

'But where are our main forces?'

'Some have cut straight across the front of what remains of the contemptible little British army—at least that was the general disposition when I was last in touch with the Staff. About those corps there is no anxiety, for, as I told you just now, the British are done.'

A gleam of joy shot across the Herr Doktor's now haggard face. And the other hurried on: 'So, too, are the French who fell back with them. But that new, fresh army under Maunoury—that was a colossal surprise! Once it is disposed of, we shall renew our advance on Paris.' He hesitated for a moment, and then the pleasure of finding a listener conquered prudence. 'The Crown Prince did not come up to time. His army was to have joined ours on September 2—Von Kluck was waiting for him. There could be no final attack on Paris without the "Draufgänger." You understand? It was our future War Lord's perquisite——'

The Herr Doktor nodded comprehendingly. Oddly enough, he had never seen the Crown Prince, but from various things he had heard about him he supposed him to be not unlike Prince Egon.