As a special pleasure the children were to be permitted to eat their luncheon under an old tree in the one-time garden. This garden now held no flowers except two or three old rosebushes and overgrown shrubs.
The heat of yesterday had returned and with it even more sultriness. There were heavy clouds overhead, but no immediate sign of rain. It was one of those days that are always peculiarly hard to endure. The air was heavy and languid with a kind of brooding stillness that comes before the storm.
The nerves of everybody seemed to be on edge. Monsieur Bebé had lost his courage of yesterday and sat silent in his chair with his head resting in his hand. Was he dreaming of Provence before France was driven into war? Or was he hearing again the cracking of rifles, the booming of cannon, all the noises of the past year of life in a trench?
Several times Barbara did her best to distract his attention, but the French boy could do nothing more than try to be polite. It was evident that he hardly heard what she said to him. Nicolete was too engaged with her duties in the house to offer companionship. Nevertheless, she came back and forth into the yard. Now and then she would stop for a moment to speak to Monsieur Reney, who was Monsieur Bebé only to Barbara, who had so named him.
Nicolete was busy in arranging the outdoor luncheon for the children. For she it was who brought out the dishes and the chairs. Only once did she have any assistance and then the maid from the kitchen helped her with the luncheon table. Neither Eugenia nor the woman whom they called "Louise" was seen all morning.
So to Barbara fell the entire task of looking after the children. Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps they too were vaguely conscious that something unusual was going on about them, for they were extremely difficult.
Not once, but half a dozen times, each child insisted upon going into the house to search for Eugenia. She could not be busy for so long a time that she could not come out to them, they protested. This had never happened before.
Jan and Bibo were particularly sulky, nevertheless Barbara continued firm. Jan had been made her especial charge. Whatever happened he must be kept away from all knowledge of what was transpiring in the big house only a few yards off.
This world is ever a double mask with the face of tragedy painted upon one side and of comedy upon the other.