Lucy needed no urging to do all in her power to help inside the hospital. To her natural eagerness to be of service to the Allies’ cause was added a keen desire to show the Germans in command that she was useful. She had a secret dread that they might think her in the way and forbid her to remain where she longed to stay, close by her father’s side.
The streets were glowing in hot sunshine when she started out with Miss Willis and Brêlet, an hour later. Since the night before, the guns had been almost silent, and every soul among the Allies in the town wondered how things were going on the battle-front, but steadfastly refused to ask their conquerors, certain they would hear of nothing else than a German victory. But even the Germans could not claim much of an advance, for the firing of the past night showed their line to be still held at about four miles west of Château-Plessis.
The German food supply depot was about a mile north from the American hospital. It was inconveniently placed for both hospitals and for the few hundred inhabitants remaining in the town, but naturally the Germans gave no thought to this. Every one wishing to buy or beg food was obliged to go in person, showing the registry card which had been furnished each inhabitant soon after the town’s capture. This systematic arrangement promised well, but in reality many a tired and over-worked French citizen had a long, hot walk to the supply depot for nothing. The food was scanty, and only the worst portions of it were reserved for the townspeople. In addition to this, the long wait necessary to secure anything kept those away who had a few vegetables left growing in their little gardens.
The old men and boys of Château-Plessis had been put to work clearing the streets of broken stone and rubbish, for there was no more than a company of soldiers in the town, and these contented themselves with mounting guard and exercising a general supervision. But the civilian workers received no more food than if they had been idle, and, hungry and dejected, worked grudgingly at their task, fearful lest they should be in some way aiding the German advance. Lucy watched these unwilling workers, as the three passed close to a little group of them, on their way across the town. Somehow they seemed even more pitiful to her than soldier prisoners. The soldier has at least had a chance to strike his enemy, and he is at a time of life when blows are given and endured. But these old men, weather-worn and bent with labor, had earned a quiet home in the little town where most of them were born. The boys, from twelve to about sixteen years old, glanced up with shamefaced and defiant looks. They had had no chance at self-defense, and Lucy guessed with a quick throb of sympathy how their young, loyal hearts must suffer in obeying the conqueror’s commands.
“Suppose it were America, and the Germans were ordering us to work for them,” she thought, and her cheeks flushed with anger at the triumphant foe who caused such misery. Then she shook her head impatiently at herself, as the house used for the food depot came into sight. “I’ll have to feel a little more polite than this, if I’m to get any soap and matches out of them,” she decided.
“There’s not much of a crowd to-day, thank goodness,” remarked Miss Willis, looking at the scattered handful of people standing about the building. “But I suppose there are enough more indoors to keep us waiting half the morning.”
“Well, I’ll go to the other side and try my luck,” said Lucy, making for the left-hand door and taking her place in line, with the written request from the hospital in her hand. Presently her turn came to step inside the door and hand her paper to the sergeant at the desk. He read it, pursing his lips doubtfully, glanced at a written list beside him, and finally told Lucy to come back in half an hour. He shouted it, under the odd impression that people who could not understand German would get his meaning somehow if he spoke loud enough. Lucy nodded, wanting to laugh at his hot, bothered-looking face, and went out in search of Miss Willis and Brêlet.
The people of the hospital, owing in great part to the German wounded sheltered there, were in a much easier position than the rest of the population in regard to food. The German authorities allowed them hand-carts to convey the somewhat variable supplies allotted to them. To-day the chief part of the food had already been sent over, but some necessary things were missing, and these Miss Willis had volunteered to bring back. The chances looked uncertain, however. The German non-com in charge as a matter of course appeared doubtful about granting her request. Perhaps—after a while——When Lucy entered the room things had advanced no further than this. Seeing every prospect of a long wait she glanced about her to see who else was in the same plight. Twenty-five or thirty people were standing wearily waiting on the sergeant’s pleasure. Some of them had sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall.
Among these last was a slight delicate-looking woman whom Lucy noticed because she seemed so sadly out of place seated on the dusty floor in the midst of the noisy and perspiring crowd. She was plainly dressed in black with a widow’s cap over her soft, dark hair, but something about her face and bearing set her apart from the peasants and townspeople around her. Beside her stood an old woman who was evidently a servant, with an empty basket on her arm and an angry scowl on her forehead as she watched the German soldiers leisurely dealing out supplies to the waiting crowd. But it was the third member of the little group to whom Lucy’s attention quickly shifted. This was a girl about her own age, who stood leaning against the wall by her mother’s side, a kind of scornful patience on her face. Her blue eyes, which looked as though not long ago they had been full of childish gaiety, now held a defiant resolution in their depths. Her hair was so black it reminded Lucy of Julia Houston’s, except that Julia’s hair was straight, and this girl’s fell in soft waves over her thin shoulders.
Lucy could not take her eyes away from that pretty, sensitive face, so pathetic in its look of having been roughly wakened from the happy childhood that French girls know until well into their teens. In another moment the object of her gaze looked around and caught sight of her. Lucy did not hesitate. She had longed for the companionship of a girl her own age since she had found time to think in these last few days, and she had seen this girl once before in crossing the town with Brêlet and Elizabeth, and had heard from Brêlet something of her history. She made a difficult way across the crowded room to her side and, overcoming a sudden shyness as the stranger’s eyes met hers, she said in French with a friendly smile, “You won’t mind if I speak to you? I’d like so much to have another girl to talk to.”