“David, mon frère!”
I rose, seeing nothing. De Saint Omer came to me and took my hand in his quick, vibrating grip.
“From now on, we are brothers. It is a solemn promise,” he said, looking into my eyes. “And now, David, mon frère, there is only one person to be thought of,—Bernoline. You will give her the courage she needs. I know her decision. It is the only one. We are an old race, and, when we see our duty, we never hesitate. Come to me afterwards.” He opened his arms and took me into them in a long embrace. Then he turned to his sister.
“It is good-by until—” He raised his finger to the calm serenity above. “Sister, your blessing.”
He dropped to one knee. She laid her hands on his forehead and her lips moved silently. Then he rose and went hurriedly out. The poilu turned and went to join Marianne and the child. I was alone with Bernoline.
“Good God! If a shell would only end it all!”
“Mon ami, that is why death is not the hardest.”
I held out my arms. She came to them, her eyes looked into mine, our lips came together, and that first kiss, which was our last, was given with our mingled tears.
* * * * *