Three days later Jean was back with his copains. The evening he took his departure Paulette and Odette knelt side by side for a long time in the dusk of the little church.
The next news was that Italy, who had already broken with Austria-Hungary, had declared war on Germany. The battle of the Somme continued. Roumania, siding with the Allies, entered the war only to be utterly crushed. The end of the war appeared further off than ever.
The old joyous days seemed over for both Lucie and Annette. Tragedy was too near them. What was the outcome for France? Madame Guerin’s face grew grimmer and sharper. Madame Le Brun became more feeble. The days of fatness were over. So many things were scarce. Poor little Madame Le Brun fretted at the short rations, especially she missed sugar. “Of course,” she said, she was willing to make sacrifices for the soldiers, for her country, but why sugar?
“You are so childish, Marcelline,” said her sister. “Look at Lucie and Annette; they never make a complaint, and surely girls like sugar as well as you do.”
“They can eat anything, which I cannot do,” returned Madame Le Brun plaintively.
“I am sure, grandma, I am perfectly willing to give up anything but bare necessities, if it will do Gaspard any good,” said Annette.
“Well, but I have no Gaspard,” returned her grandmother with some asperity. “If I were young and romantic I might feel differently.”
“Poor grandmother,” said Annette to Lucie when they were alone, “I wish I had a ration of sugar to give her, for I do not mind in the least going without.”
“Nor I. If it does my father any good, I am willing to live on the very plainest fare.”
“I think we all feel that way, all except poor grandmother. She has been so accustomed to being considered and catered to that it is harder for her than most.”