But one day came a message which compelled Madame Du Bois, pale and shaken, to leave Lucie in charge of her grandfather and Paulette, for the word was that Captain Du Bois was severely wounded and his wife decided that nothing must keep her from going to him.
Lucie clung to her mother, choking back sobs and begging that she might go, too. “Take me, mother. Please take me,” she cried, “I will be brave and I can help, indeed I can.”
“But, dear child, it is not possible,” Madame Du Bois tried to explain. “I do not know even if I may see him. I may not be allowed that privilege. I shall keep as near him as I can and shall return if he recovers,” she gave a quick sigh. “If it be that I must come back without him you must have the courage to face the worst, and bear in mind that it will be a hero for whom we mourn. Now, dear daughter, be as helpful here as you can. Give as little trouble as possible. When we keep busy there is less time for grieving. You must try to keep grandpère and Paulette in good heart.”
These words encouraged Lucie to show a braver spirit. She no longer wept, but stood looking very grave and thoughtful. “You will write, mamma, very soon,” she said.
“Yes, yes, as soon as I can. As soon as it is possible I will send some sort of message. It may be that I shall have difficulty in finding a proper place to stay, but at the hospital I shall try to make myself so useful that they will wish me to stay.”
So away she went, leaving Lucie waving farewells and trying to smile in spite of tearful eyes. She remembered that she must not be a coward and that she must keep busy so as to have no time for grieving.
“Paulette, Paulette,” she called as she reëntered the house. The old servant had disappeared in order to hide her own emotions.
“Paulette, give me something to do, something very hard that will make it necessary for me to keep my whole mind on it. I must have something to do. It is so hard this parting.” She was biting her lip and giving gasps between words.
“To be sure it is hard,” returned Paulette turning away her head. “Do I not know, I, a mother?”
“It is not only that mamma goes, that alone would be a hard thing to bear. She has never left me before, but papa, wounded, who knows how badly, and if ever—if ever—” She broke down and was gathered up into Paulette’s arms to sob out her sorrow on the good woman’s shoulder. She had kept back the tears as long as she could; now they must overflow.