CHAPTER II
PAUL
Jeanne's baby was as beautiful as little Margot, though she did not lie upon lacy pillows in a Paris apartment.
Jeanne held the child tightly in her arms, as she rocked back and forth on a broken chair, and as she rocked she looked out upon the poor, little village street. Jeanne was a troubled young mother.
Paul had been at the front for many weeks now. He did not even know that little Jeanne was born. If only Paul would come back to the village!
There was talk of an invasion. Many small towns of France were being invaded and burned by the enemy. Would this little town be next?
Each day the villagers asked themselves this question and lived in terror. Many had already started to tramp toward Paris. Many were deserting the village.
But Jeanne could not go. There was little Jeanne now. And even if she could have gone, she would never have left until her Paul had come back.
Each day a letter went to Paul at the front. Each day Jeanne trembled at the postman's footsteps outside her door.