“Off toward the eastern part of the town. It was some enemy, be sure of that. I can guess at the shape of our planes well enough to see that we far outnumber them.”
Elizabeth dared not show her agitation, nor continue her inquiries. Only a few days past she had questioned this same man about the German soldier who was Armand de la Tour, until he wondered at her idle curiosity. She had learned that Michelle’s brother succeeded in getting away undiscovered, but her unusual inquisitiveness had excited some surprise. While she hesitated now whether to go off by herself and try to stumble on some news, or to return to console Lucy as best she could, a soldier came up and murmured something in Sergeant Vogel’s ear. The message was not a welcome one. The German’s eyebrows and mustaches bristled in an angry frown. His face flushed red and his jaw closed sharply. All the good-humor had left his face, but Elizabeth hazarded a timid question:
“What is it, Sergeant? May I hear the news?”
“No!” snapped the German. “Can’t you bottle up your curiosity for a moment? Am I to answer your questions all day?”
Elizabeth guessed that he was only venting his ill-humor on the nearest object, and waited unresentfully in silence. The Sergeant raised his eyes again to the sky, where the airplanes still swooped and circled, and the frown and flush gradually left his face. In a moment Elizabeth spoke gently once more.
“I should be so much obliged to you, Sergeant, for a little news. One good turn deserves another. Don’t you remember how often I supplied you the best bread and sausage from my nephew’s shop? You and Karl were pretty good cronies then.”
The German laughed his short laugh again. The recollections Elizabeth called up were pleasant ones. “Well, well, Frau, I see there’s no peace until I tell you.” He stooped close to her ear and spoke in a gruff whisper. “It was a German plane that fell. The pilot was killed. Keep your mouth shut, now!” he added sharply. “I tell you a bit of news for friendship’s sake, but it’s not the sort to spread about. Our men are none too cheerful lately as it is. A lot of grumbling dogs!”
Elizabeth sadly shook her head, with a look of silent grief and disappointment. It was not all affected, either, for beneath her genuine joy that the unfortunate pilot was not Bob, and that she could bring relief to Lucy’s anxiety, her heart ached at the death of her young countryman. With all her honest soul Elizabeth longed for the Kaiser’s bloody tyranny to be overthrown, but sometimes she wondered despairingly if there would be any Germans left to enjoy the blessings of peace.
Eager to return to Lucy, she made her way quickly through the crowd, and across the square to the hospital garden. Lucy and her father were still standing there, gazing up at the sky. Colonel Gordon rested his arm against the broken gatepost, but, weary as he was, neither Lucy nor Major Greyson could persuade him to go in. Elizabeth went up to them and as Lucy’s anxious eyes met hers, she said in her soft, quick voice:
“It was not Mr. Bob who fell, dear Miss Lucy—nor any American.” Her voice sank still lower as she added, “A German it was, but nothing say of it to any one.”