In the few weeks of their acquaintance David Hale and Bettina had become fairly intimate friends. Indeed the young man had confided to Bettina his ambition for the future. It seemed that he had not a large fortune of his own, yet nevertheless wished to devote his time and energy not to the mere making of money, but to becoming as he expressed it, “a soldier of peace” serving his country in times of peace as a soldier serves her in war, for the honor rather than the material gain. He had been working in a diplomatic position in Washington before the entry of the United States into the war and because his work was considered of too great importance to resign, he had not been allowed to enter the army. Sent afterwards to France on a special mission he had been retained to serve as an under-secretary of the Peace Congress. At present David Hale believed that his future might depend upon the reputation he acquired among the older and more celebrated men with whom he was associated.
And for the first time in her life Bettina was enjoying an intimacy with a young fellow near her own age who was interested in the things in which she was interested.
Without being handsome David Hale had a fine strong face with interesting dark gray eyes and a smile which illuminated his entire expression.
During the next quarter of an hour he and Bettina talked but little, the greater part of the time listening to the French officer who was describing to Miss Patricia the fighting which had taken place in the neighborhood.
“It was here that the German troops broke through three times and three times the French with one half their number repelled them. It is possible, Madame, that the French government might be willing to allow a portion of this ground to be used for a monument should you or your countrymen and women desire so to honor France.”
But Miss Patricia answered nothing.
They were approaching a piece of ground which had once been a field, but now instead of the bare and upturned soil one saw little mounds and wooden and iron crosses set in long uneven rows. Springing up amid the crosses were crocuses, the first shoots of hyacinths, of narcissus and daffodils.
The Frenchmen and the young American removed their hats.
“A bit of France’s holy ground,” the French officer again explained to Miss Patricia. “Over in that field are buried the Allies, whom no difference of opinion, no unfaith can ever estrange, Americans, British and French are sleeping side by side.”
It must have been through Mrs. Burton’s request that at this moment her motor which was in advance halted and its occupants climbed down.