Читать книгу Tom Slade with the Boys Over There - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 6

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“We thought maybe you’d let us stay here tonight and tomorrow,” said Tom after the scanty meal which the depleted larder yielded, “and tomorrow night we’ll start out south; ’cause we don’t want to be traveling in the daytime. Maybe you could give us some clothes so it’ll change our looks. It’s less than a hundred miles to Basel——”

“My pappa say you could nevaire cross ze frontier. Zere are wires—electric——”

“Electric wirres are ourr middle name,” said Archer. “We eat ’em.”

“We ain’t scared of anything except the daylight,” said Tom. “Archy can talk some German and I got Frenchy’s—Armand’s—button to show to French people. When we once get into Switzerland we’ll be all right.”

He waited while the girl engaged in an animated talk with her parents. Then old Pierre patted the two boys affectionately on the shoulder while Florette explained.

“It iss not for our sake only, it iss for yours. You cannot stay in ziss house. It iss not safe. You aire wonderful, zee how you escape, and to bring us news of our Armand! We must help you. But if zey get you zen we do not help you. Iss it so? Here every day ze Prussians come. You see? Zey do not follow you—you are what you say—too clevaire? But still zey come.”

Tom listened, his heart in his throat at the thought of being turned out of this home where he had hoped for shelter.

“We are already suspect,” Florette explained. “My pappa, he fought for France—long ago. But so zey hate him. My name zey get—how old——All zeze zings zey write down—everyzing. Zey come for me soon. I sang ze Marseillaise—you know?”

“Yes,” said Tom, “but that was years ago.”

“But we are suspect. Zey have write it all down. Nossing zey forget. Zey take me to work—out of Alsace. Maybe to ze great Krupps. I haf’ to work in ze fields in Prussia maybe. You see? Ven zey come I must go. Tonight, maybe. Tomorrow. Maybe not yet——”

She struggled to master her emotion and continued. “Ziss is—what you call—blackleest house. You see? So you will hide where I take you. It iss bad, but we cannot help. I give you food and tomorrow in ze night I bring you clothes. Zese I must look for—Armand’s. You see? Come.”

They rose with her and as she stood there almost overcome with grief and shame and the strain of long suspense and apprehension, yet thinking only of their safety, the sadness of her position and her impending fate went to Tom’s heart.

Old Pierre embraced the boys affectionately with his one arm, seeming to confirm all his daughter had said.

“My pappa say it is best you stay not here in ziss house. I will show you where Armand used to hide so long ago when we play,” she smiled through her tears. “If zey come and find you——”

“I understand,” said Tom. “They couldn’t blame it to you.”

“You see? Yess.”

To Archer, who understood a few odds and ends of German old Pierre managed to explain in that language his sorrow and humiliation at their poor welcome.

All five then went into an old-fashioned kitchen with walls of naked masonry and a great chimney, and from a cupboard Florette and her mother filled a basket with such cold viands as were on hand. This, and a pail of water the boys carried, and after another affectionate farewell from Pierre and his wife, they followed the girl cautiously and silently out into the darkness.

Tom Slade had already felt the fangs of the German beast and he did not need any one to tell him that the loathsome thing was without conscience or honor, but as he watched the slender form of Armand’s young sister hurrying on ahead of them and thought of all she had borne and must yet bear and of the black fear that must be always in her young heart, his sympathy for her and for this stricken home was very great.

He had not fully comprehended her meaning, but he understood that she and her parents were haunted by an ever-present dread, and that even in their apprehension it hurt them to skimp their hospitality or suffer any shadow to be cast on a stranger’s welcome.

Florette led the way along a narrow board path running back from the house, through an endless maze of vine-covered arbor, which completely roofed all the grounds adjacent to the house. Tom, accustomed only to the small American grape arbor, was amazed at the extent of this vineyard.

“Reminds you of an elevated railroad, don’t it,” said Archer.

On the rickety uprights (for the arbor like everything else on the old place was going to ruin under the alien blight) large baskets hung here and there. At intervals the structure sagged so that they had to stoop to pass under it, and here and there it was broken or uncovered and they caught glimpses of the sky.

They went over a little hillock and, still beneath the arbor, came upon a place where the vines had fallen away from the ramshackle trellis and formed a spreading mass upon the ground.

“You see?” whispered the girl in her pretty way. “Here Armand he climb. Here he hide to drop ze grapes down my neck—so. Bad boy! So zen it break—crash! He tumbled down. Ah—my pappa so angry. We must nevaire climb on ze trellis. You see? Here I sit and laugh—so much—when he tumble down!”

She smiled and for a moment seemed all happiness, but Tom Slade heard a sigh following close upon the smile. He did not know what to say so he simply said in his blunt way:

“I guess you had good times together.”

“Now I will zhow you,” she said, stooping to pull away the heavy tangle of vine.

Tom and Archer helped her and to their surprise there was revealed a trap-door about six feet in diameter with gigantic rusty hinges.

“Ziss is ze cave—you see?” she said, stooping to lift the door. Tom bent but she held him back. “Wait, I will tell you. Zen you can open it.” For a moment pleasant recollections seemed to have the upper hand, and there was about her a touch of that buoyancy which had made her brother so attractive to sober Tom.

“Wait—zhest till I tell you. When I come back from ze school in England I have read ze story about ‘Kidnap.’ You know?”

“It’s by Stevenson; I read it,” said Archer.

“You know ze cave vere ze Scotch man live? So ziss is our cave. Now you lift.”

The door did not stir at first and Florette, laughing softly, raised the big L band which bent over the top and lay in a rusted padlock eye.

“Now.”

The boys raised the heavy door, to which many strands of the vine clung, and Florette placed a stick to hold it up at an angle. Peering within by the light of a match, they saw the interior of what appeared to be a mammoth hogshead from which emanated a stale, but pungent odor. It was, perhaps, seven feet in depth and the same in diameter and the bottom was covered with straw.

“It is ze vat—ze wine vat,” whispered Florette, amused at their surprise. “Here we keep ze wine zat will cost so much.—But no more.—We make no wine ziss year,” she sighed. “Ziss makes ze fine flavor—ze earth all around. You see?”

“It’s a dandy place to hide,” said Archer.

“So here you will stay and you will be safe. Tomorrow in ze night I shall bring you more food and some clothes. I am so sorry——”

“There ain’t anything to be sorry about,” said Tom. “There’s lots of room in there—more than there is in a bivouac tent. And it’ll be comfortable on that straw, that’s one sure thing. If you knew the kind of place we slept in up there in the prison you’d say this was all right. We’ll stay here and rest all day tomorrow and after you bring us the things at night we’ll sneak out and hike it along.”

“I will not dare to come in ze daytime,” said Florette, “but after it is dark, zen I will come. You must have ze cover almost shut and I will pull ze vines over it.”

“We’ll tend to that,” said Tom.

“We’ll camouflage it, all right,” Archer added.

For a moment she lingered as if thinking if there were anything more she might do for their comfort. Then against her protest, Tom accompanied her part way back and they paused for a moment under the thickly covered trellis, for she would not let him approach the house.

“I’m sorry we made you so much trouble,” he said; “it’s only because we want to get to where we can fight for you.”

“Oh, yess, I know,” she answered sadly. “My pappa, it break his heart because he cannot make you ze true welcome. But you do not know. We are—how you say—persecute—all ze time. Zey own Alsace, but zey do not love Alsace. It is like—it is like ze stepfather—you see?” she added, her voice breaking. “So zey have always treat us.”

For a few seconds Tom stood, awkward and uncomfortable; then clumsily he reached out his hand and took hers.

“You don’t mean they’ll take you like they took the people from Belgium, do you?” he asked.

“Ziss is worse zan Belgium,” Florette sobbed. “Zere ze people can escape to England.”

“Where would they send you?” Tom asked.

“Maybe far north into Prussia. Maybe still in Alsace. All ze familees zey will separate so zey shall meex wiz ze Zhermans.” Florette suddenly grasped his hand. “I am glad I see you. So now I can see all ze Americans come—hoondreds——

“Tomorrow in ze night I will bring you ze clothes,” she whispered, “and more food, and zen you will be rested——”

“I feel sorry for you,” Tom blurted out with simple honesty, “and I got to thank you. Both of us have—that’s one sure thing. You’re worse off than we are—and it makes me feel mean, like. But maybe it won’t be so bad. And, gee, I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow night, too.”

“I will bring ze sings, surely,” she said earnestly.

“It isn’t—it isn’t only for that,” he mumbled, “it’s because I’ll kind of look forward to seeing you anyway.”

For another moment she lingered and in the stillness of night and the thickly roofed arbor he could hear her breath coming short and quick, as she tried to stifle her emotion.

“Is—is it a sound?” she whispered in sudden terror.

“No, it’s only because you’re scared,” said Tom.

He stood looking after her as she hurried away under the ramshackle trellis until her slender figure was lost in the darkness.

“It’ll make me fight harder, anyway,” he said to himself; “it’ll help me to get to France ’cause—’cause I got to, and if you got to do a thing—you can....”