Madame de la Tour was lying awake, but she declared that her sleep had made her feel much better. “There is no need to remain up for me, mes enfants,” she said decidedly. “But I am glad you came, ma petite,” she added, taking Lucy affectionately by the hand. “My Michelle is very happy to have your company.”
“I wanted to come. It’s lovely to be in a real house—in somebody’s home again,” said Lucy warmly, her eyes filled with sympathy and pity as she looked at the fragile little figure in the bed—an old French peasant bed, with clumsy wooden side boards.
“Then try to have a good night’s sleep,” urged Madame de la Tour, fixing her bright eyes on Lucy’s face. “Your checks are grown thinner than I like to see them.”
Lucy was glad to go to bed in these surroundings and made no objection when Michelle led the way with a candle to the little chamber next her own. Old Clemence slept just now on a sofa by her mistress’s side. Already, down below, they could hear her noisily bolting doors and doing her best to secure the broken windows by fastening the shutters. The two girls talked a while together, for their sleepiness was not quite proof against the many things each wanted to hear about the other. But presently Michelle stole out to see that her mother wanted nothing, and coming back took up Lucy’s candle and wished her good-night.
“I must wake you very early in the morning, you know. How good it will be to have you here for breakfast,” she said with friendly satisfaction as she went away.
For the first time in many nights Lucy slept deep and dreamlessly as though she were safe at home again. She could not believe the night was over when, at the first peep of dawn, she woke to find Michelle standing at her bedside, her pretty black hair tumbled about her shoulders and her eyes still heavy with sleep.
“I am very sorry I must call you from the bed so early,” she apologized. “But I must help Clemence to-day, before I go to the hospital. It is for that we take the breakfast as soon as it grows light.”
“All right,” said Lucy, yawning and stretching herself awake before she added, “I have to be ready early, anyway, for Elizabeth will stop for me at seven o’clock. I’ll help you, too, Michelle. What do you have to do?”
“Not so much,” Michelle responded, sitting down for a moment at the foot of Lucy’s bed to comb her hair free from its curling tangles. “I make a little coffee for Maman, while Clemence is preparing breakfast for the sentinel. He eats well, ma foi!”
“Oh, to think of having to feed him!” exclaimed Lucy, tossing about in her indignation. “Sometimes when I first wake in the morning I can’t believe we really are in the German lines. It seems too awful to be true.”