He spoke abruptly, dryly:
"Anybody can weep for a friend. But few avenge their dead."
She looked up, bewildered.
They drove under the old Sainte Lesse gate as he spoke. The sunlight lay pink across the walls and tipped the turret of the watch tower with fire.
The town seemed very still; nothing was to be seen on the long main street except here and there a Spahi horseman en vidette, and the clock-tower pigeons circling in their evening flight.
The girl, Maryette, looked dumbly into the fading daylight when the cart stopped before her door. The airman took her gently by the arm, and that awakened her. As though stiffened by fatigue she rose and climbed to the sidewalk. He took her unresisting arm and led her through the tunnelled wall and into the White Doe Inn.
"Get me some supper," he said. "It will take your mind off your troubles."[pg 218]
"Yes."
"Bread, wine, and some meat, if you have any. I'll be back in a few moments."
He left her at the inn door and went out into the street, whistling "La Brabançonne." A cavalryman directed him to the military telephone installed in the house of the notary across the street.