“We will walk, monsieur,” both replied.
So they started off at a brisk pace, the old man with the ancient horse bringing up the rear. War had not touched this corner of the world set apart from the raging of battles, the stir of camps. All was of a Sabbath quiet, but there were only women and children working in the fields. In the trees where young leaves were putting out, birds were nesting. A lark soared singing overhead. It seemed as if he might at last reach the drift of white clouds piled up in the blue. Presently they came to a little shrine set by the roadside. With one accord all knelt for a moment. There were tears in Lucie’s eyes when she arose. “It has been so long since I saw one of those,” she whispered to Odette.
“Do I not know? Do I not know?” returned Odette in a tremulous voice. “It is like coming home again.”
The little cart with the jogging horse passed them and went on. Victor made a signal to Jules as he passed, which was answered by an understanding nod.
“You seem to know that old man,” remarked Lucie.
“I have seen him once or twice before,” responded Victor.
Paulette gave a little chuckle which quickly changed to a clearing of the throat as Lucie looked at her sharply. “It seems so like my old home of childhood that I laugh,” she explained.
“Are you tired? Would you like to rest a moment?” asked Victor.
“How much farther is it?” asked Lucie.
“We have come about half the distance. At the top of the next hill we shall be able to see the house.”