CHAPTER III
WE GO
IT was later in the day that Annette came flying in. “This dog, Lucie,” she cried, “this dog of Victor’s, where is he? I wish much to see him. Unlucky me not to be allowed to have him! Victor has told me, the good Victor, how clever is this little dog, that he will stand upon his hind legs when one bids him dance to a whistling, and that he will also sing to an accompaniment. Is it so, or is this just nonsense? He is very ready for a joke, this Victor.”
“Yes, he does those things,” Lucie assured her.
“The singing? It is hard to believe that.”
“If one may call it singing. It is not very melodious, though no doubt it is the best he can do.”
“We must teach him new tricks to surprise Victor when he comes back. I have never seen this Pom Pom, for you know he belonged to my cousin Marguerite who lived in Bordeaux which is too far away for one to visit, and Victor, though he has been here a number of times, has never brought the dog with him.”
“We will go to see him if you like. Victor thought I would best tie him for a day or two lest he try to find his way back to him, so he is there in the garden. I will have him on a leash and let him run a little. Come.”
Of course Annette went into raptures over the new pet, and was so regretful at being deprived of him that Lucie consoled her by saying she should have a share in him, although he must live with the Du Boises rather than with Le Bruns. This arrangement quite satisfied Annette who had felt herself defrauded of what naturally should have come to her. So between them it certainly was not for lack of petting and feeding that Pom Pom could feel himself abandoned, and, as a matter of fact, in a few days he was entirely at home, ready to show off his tricks and to attach himself devotedly to Lucie. To be sure he would sometimes stand at the gate looking wistfully up and down the street, regarding Lucie with questioning eyes when she came to him.
But no more did he or his mistress see Victor Guerin before bewildering and evil days fell upon the town. First came troops marching through, a thing of almost daily occurrence and a signal for the two little girls to run out with flowers, fruit, or cakes of chocolate to give to the soldiers, who would stick the flowers on the ends of their bayonets and go off nibbling chocolate between cheers or snatches of the Marseillaise.
It had become a thing of every day to see Grandfather Du Bois and Grandfather Le Brun start off together to their factories, there to remain all day. It was becoming customary, too, to behold women doing men’s work and for the two little girls to apply themselves to duties they had never known before. Still they were happy. No one much believed in a protracted war. Those who shook their heads in doubt were laughed at and called croaking ravens.