“Never mind, kid,” Weller said. “I promise you we’ll be back. We’ll see you in a week’r two. You just save us some of that good fresh milk.”
Pierre clapped his hand to his head and glared at André.
“Mon Dieu!” he shouted. “The cows!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bastille Day—1944
THAT night, lights glowed in the Gagnon house. In spite of the blustery cold wind and drifts of rain, the door stood open most of the evening.
Friends came, laughing, crying, chattering greetings and news. Children came to ask André questions and stand with open mouths at what he had to say.
Marie brought cups of hot chocolate and black bread. Mme. Lescot supplied some small cakes.
Leon Duplis rode over to tell Marie that General de Gaulle, who commanded the Maquis from London, was now touring the liberated towns of Normandy.
“The French Army will soon join the fight to free our country,” Leon whispered to Marie. “They will enter France from the Mediterranean. But do not tell anyone yet I said so.” And with that he was on his motor bike and gone.
On the road outside, traffic was coming up from the beach, but in smaller convoys. “The sea is getting very rough,” someone reported.