And Henri's nerves were not good. He was unhappy--that always--and he
was not yet quite recovered from his wounds. There was on his mind, too,
a certain gun which moved on a railway track, back and forth, behind the
German lines, doing the work of many. He had tried to get to that gun,
and failed. And he hated failure.
Certainly in this story of Sara Lee and of Henri, whose other name must
not be known, allowance must be made for all those things. Yet--perhaps
no allowance is enough.
Sara Lee told him that evening of her recall, told him when the shuffling
of many feet in the street told of the first weary men from the trenches
coming up the road.
He heard her in a dazed silence. Then: "But you will not go?" he said. "It is impossible! You--you are
needed, mademoiselle."
"What can I do, Henri? They have recalled me. My money will not come
now."
"Perhaps we can arrange that. It does not cost so much. I have
friends--and think, mademoiselle, how many know now of what you are
doing, and love you for it. Some of them would contribute, surely."
He was desperately revolving expedients in his mind. He could himself
do no more than he had done. He, or rather Jean and he together, had
been bearing a full half of the expense of the little house since the
beginning. But he dared not tell her that. And though he spoke
hopefully, he knew well that he could raise nothing from the Belgians
he knew best. Henri came of a class that held its fortunes in land, and
that land was now in German hands.
"We will arrange it somehow," he said with forced cheerfulness. "No
beautiful thing--and this is surely beautiful--must die because of
money."
It was then that Sara Lee took the plunge.
"It is not only money, Henri."
"He has sent for you!"
Harvey was always "he" to Henri.
"Not exactly. But I think he went to some one and said I should not be
here alone. You can understand how he feels. We were going to be
married very soon, and then I decided to come. It made an awful upset."
Henri stood with folded arms and listened. At first he said nothing.
When he spoke it was in a voice of ominous calm: "So for a stupid convention he would destroy this beautiful thing you
have made! Does he know your work? Does he know what you are to the
men here? Have you ever told him?"