“No; I would not ask it of you if it were. Will you please me, Jeanne? Your uncle would like it too.”
“Yes, Cherie, I will,” said Jeanne after a moment’s thought. “If it is only to take some food to a poor soldier it cannot be wrong. When do you wish me to go?”
“Dearest, to-night. There is no moon and it will be easier to elude the guards. I may use your basket, may I not? It will not be so heavy to carry.”
“If you wish,” assented Jeanne. “But it will not hold much.”
“I only want to send a few, a very few things. Just what he needs most to put heart into him, poor fellow! And then when you come back, we will plan our journey to your home. Oh, we will have the grand time!”
The day wore away. Madame Vance talked volubly about the girl’s home and asked her so many questions concerning it that Jeanne was wrought up to the highest pitch. At last the darkness fell. With it came a drizzling rain and to the tenderly nurtured girl it seemed that this would put a stop to the enterprise; but no.
“Could anything be more fortunate,” cried Madame who was in the highest spirits. “Nothing could be better for our purpose. Ah, petite, you will outwit the Yankee soldiers yet.”
Jeanne looked troubled. The matter had not presented itself in that light before.
“I am not doing wrong, am I, Cherie?” she asked dubiously. “It is nothing against the government, is it?”
“To be sure not. How quaint you are to ask that again! Would I have you to do wrong?”