CHAPTER XI
“ALL ASHORE WHO ARE GOING ASHORE!”
Three hours later, refreshed and invigorated by a most delectable lunch, eaten in the beautiful dining-room of the hotel, our travelers were ready for the last stage of the preparatory journey. Nothing remained now but the short ride to the wharf and then—the rapture of embarking on the wonderful “Mauretania,” which had hitherto been but a magic name to them, breathing of romance and wonder. Then a final farewell to their friends, and before them stretched the great European continent, holding the unfathomed mysteries of thousands of years.
There was England, upon whose soil, in ancient times the savage Britons fought against great Caesar—and lost. There was France, scene of the bloodiest revolution that has ever dyed red the pages of history—a revolution that proved supreme the tremendous, onrushing power of the masses. And there was Rome itself, where every inch of soil, where every nook and cranny of the famous catacombs marked some great historic drama played in the days when “to be a Roman were better than a king!”
With all the romance of the Old War about to unfold itself to their enchanted eyes, is it any wonder that our girls were eager for the start?
“All ready?” said Jack.
“Oh, I’ve been ready and waiting for half an hour or more,” laughed Lucile. “I do wish the folks would hurry!”
“I’m afraid you don’t like our great city, you seem so anxious to leave it—and me,” he said, with a reproachful side glance.
“Oh, I do, I do! I love it—the city, I mean!” she added, in some confusion, as he glanced at her inquiringly. “It’s all wonderful, and I could spend a year here without 73 getting tired; but as long as we do have to leave it, I wish we would hurry,” she added, naively.