Then Barbara drew back the latch and François tumbled in.
The old fellow’s brown face was ashen and the pupils of his little black eyes were dilated with fear.
He had evidently been running until he was almost out of breath.
“The French are retreating, all our army at once: They are tramping, tramping through the fields and the woods. Madame the Countess says you are to come to the chateau immediately. Soon the Germans will be here and then——”
The old French peasant flung out his withered hands and rolled his eyes upward. Words failed to express his pent-up emotions.
But Barbara shook her head quietly.
“You are very kind, François. Tell the Countess Amélie we are most grateful for her thought of us. But we are going to the rear with the field hospital staff and in any case we should be safe as Red Cross nurses. Go back to her now, for she needs you more than we do. This must be a terrible experience for her.”
Old François straightened his crooked back against the front door, which he had most carefully closed after entering.
“But you must come and at once, Mademoiselle. For the Countess is ill, perhaps dying from the shock of the news we have just received,” he insisted. “Her son’s, Captain Henri’s, regiment has been destroyed. Some of the men have been taken prisoners, the others killed or wounded. And we have had no word from our young captain since the fighting began.”
The old servant’s face worked with emotion and his eyes filled with tears.