“When I am as old as my very experienced and mature friend Annette,” returned Lucie, laughing. “Well, Annette, if you are satisfied that is all I am concerned with. I was afraid maybe you were not and that made me unhappy. I do hope Gaspard is good enough for you.”
Annette turned around in surprise. “Good enough? Of course he is,” she exclaimed. “But, Lucie, do not take everything for granted; there can be no actual betrothal until Aunt Clothilde returns. She is coming soon, we hope, and then Gaspard’s leave expires, and he goes back.”
The thought which was in Lucie’s heart she did not express. Suppose Gaspard should fall in the war, what then? She gave Annette a good-night kiss and went back to her room.
A few days later Madame Guerin returned. Jules went to meet her in the old cabriolet, but it was not Jules who came back with her in it. He walked instead. Lucie, Annette and Gaspard walked down between the rows of apple trees to meet the returned madame. “But that is not Jules with her,” said Annette suddenly.
Lucie turned her eyes from the drifting blossoms, gave one quick exclamation and darted forward, all her heart in her cry of: “Papa! Papa!”
The gig stopped. Lucie clambered in to cover her father’s face with kisses, and to murmur little ecstatic words of endearment. Then she climbed out again, running alongside till the old vehicle reached the house. In her joy of the moment she even forgot to ask about Victor, and it was not till Gaspard made the inquiry that she learned how he was.
“He is slowly improving,” madame told them. “They do not know yet how much he may be disfigured or whether he will ever regain the use of his right arm. It is a long slow road he must go, if indeed he recovers, yet there is hope and that is more than at first was given. That I should live to see him lying there like that! I could do no good, they told me. It is all a matter of time and of skilled attention from the doctors. If there is any complication, any change for the worse, they will notify me.”
“But papa was as badly wounded, weren’t you, papa?” Lucie spoke up. “And you see he is quite well again. I know Victor will be, too.”
“It is cheering to have you say so,” responded madame, nodding to her, and continuing her way toward the house, the others following with her various bags and bundles, Lucie hanging on her father’s arm and bringing up the rear.
Mons. Le Brun came to the door and looked out to see what was causing all the talk and excitement. He stopped short, looked puzzled, then hurried forward with both hands outstretched. “Marcel, my dear Marcel,” he cried. “This is a surprise and a great joy.” Then he embraced him, kissed him on each cheek, and began talking and questioning at such a rate that Lucie had no chance at all.