Her stoicism seemed to have its roots in the soil itself, tilled and fought for by centuries of ancestors. But the suppressed suffering in her eyes as she spoke had brought the war nearer to Mervaux than the throb of marching infantry and the thunder of guns and nearer to Phil than anything he had seen or felt before.
"Letters of that kind are dropping all over France," said Helen, when she described the incident to her mother.
"Don't!" said Madame Ribot. "Don't let us dwell upon it!"
So it was not mentioned at dinner. Yet though the food was equally good, Madame Ribot equally genial and Henriette equally sparkling, none could help thinking of Madame Pigou; and the fact of that column on the way to the front brought a suggestion of possibilities.
"Remember that you are to remain as long as you please," said Madame Ribot to Phil as she bade him good-night. "I feel some way that—well, you give us a sense of security."
CHAPTER X
THE VOICE AT HIS ELBOW
Why no more news of the brilliant advance into Alsace? What meant the official silence about Mulhausen and Liége? At Mervaux they read the papers no less helplessly than elsewhere.
The three cousins assisted Madame Pigou in finishing her harvest. No more soldiers passed along the road; Henriette went on with her painting, and Helen was absent on other missions. Phil was drifting and he found drifting pleasant, though it was carrying him onto the rocks.