FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   >>  
of fragments found in the debris, with naught but a hay _paillasse_ and a few old quilts dragged through the long flight and return, it is nevertheless smooth and noble, adorned only with the reverence and importance with which the French surround The Bed. The daughter comes in, a thin music-voiced girl with a fine profile like her mother's. They accept simply, and with appreciation, the useful things the Red Cross offers. In this case I am authorized to make an unusual present. For we have a few rolls of wall paper which we have been holding for someone who takes a special pride in her interior. It would cover the cracked and damp walls of Madame Cat and would add much cheer to her little room, besides keeping out the wind. Their faces are radiant at the suggestion. The daughter will come to the _poste_ tomorrow for it. Can they hang it themselves? "_Ah, c'est facile, Mademoiselle!_" and the mother gives me her recipe for a wonderful glue that will hold for years. They accompany me to the street. "You will come again soon, Mademoiselle, and see it for yourself?" I promise eagerly. Across the street lives Monsieur Martin. He comes from his house to greet me and holds open the gate, a tall farmer in corduroys with gentle, genial face. His wife had died during the cruel flight from the invader, and he and his three sons have come back to the remains of their old home. He apologizes for it, though I find it immaculate. Shining casseroles hang by the hearth, the three beds are carefully made, and on the fire something savory is cooking in a _cocotte_. "It needs a woman's touch," he says smiling. "We are four men and we do what we can, but--" he finishes with a gesture of the helpless male entangled in that most clinging, exasperating web of all--cooking and dish-washing! "_Ca n'en finit plus, Mademoiselle_," he exclaims in humorous misery. "One has no sooner finished, when one must begin again. Bah! It is woman's work," with a lordly touch of imperiousness. It is the ancient voice of Man. The next house is dark. No one answers my knock, and I lift the latch and go in. The windows, being broken, are all boarded up to keep out the dreaded drafts. It is a moment before I can see, though a quavering voice that is neither man's nor woman's bids me enter. Gradually my eyes make out two wise old faces of ivory in the obscurity by the hearth. They are old, old--nobody knows how old they are. "_Entrez, Madame_," and the
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   >>  



Top keywords:
Mademoiselle
 

Madame

 

cooking

 
hearth
 

street

 
flight
 

mother

 

daughter

 

finishes

 

gesture


helpless

 
smiling
 

entangled

 

washing

 

naught

 

clinging

 

exasperating

 

paillasse

 

apologizes

 
immaculate

Shining

 

Entrez

 
remains
 

casseroles

 

dragged

 

savory

 

cocotte

 
quilts
 

carefully

 
boarded

broken

 

dreaded

 

windows

 

drafts

 
moment
 

Gradually

 

quavering

 
fragments
 

answers

 

obscurity


sooner

 
finished
 

exclaims

 

humorous

 

misery

 

debris

 

ancient

 

imperiousness

 

lordly

 

voiced