Valerie Duval: somewhere in France

Contents

CHAPTER

I The Duvals . . . . , A & >j ..

II The Americans . . . .. ... ... .

Chapter I

TALERIE, Valerie, the Americans are \/ here. Come quick !” Pierre Duval hurried, as fast as his crutches would permit, down the garden path. He was a fairhaired boy a little over seventeen, with big wistful blue eyes and a delicate face that contrasted oddly with his misshapen body.

He paused halfway to the gate to shout again, “Valerie, do you hear me? Come! ,,

“In a minute; don’t be so impatient,” a laughing voice answered his, and a face appeared at one of the dormer windows above him.

Valerie was Pierre’s younger sister, and his

direct opposite. Her hair was dark, and her eyes

had none of his wistfulness. Instead, they flashed 11 a challenge to the whole world and indicated her dauntless spirit. The energy of her lithe, strong body showed in her quick movements.

The simple village folk of Vinon, when they saw the two together, often shook their heads in sympathy for Madame Duval, and wondered why the good God had seen fit to give the girl the looks of a boy, and the boy the wistful eyes and sensitive features of a girl.

“I am not impatient/ ’ Pierre replied, looking up at his sister, “but you are such a slow poke, it takes a charge of dynamite to get you started. Are you coming ?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” The head disappeared from the window, and Valerie was soon on the path beside her brother.

“Here I am, — and now where are the Americans?” she demanded. “I don’t see them.”

“Come with me.” Pierre led her to the gate and pointed down the hill.

The Duvals’ house and farm was a little way out of the village and high on the crest of a hill; a winding road led up to it. As Pierre and Valerie looked they saw three men coming towards them.

‘ 4 Two are Americans, and one is a Frenchman. He will be the interpreter, I suppose,” Pierre laughed; “as if we need an interpreter to understand English!”

Valerie nodded. “He will have a dusty walk for nothing, poor little man, but why are there only two Americans ? I thought from the way you shouted that the whole army had come. ’ ’

“Simpleton, an army does not suddenly arrive in a village at nine in the morning, and mark time in the square until their sleeping quarters are ready. Officers come first and arrange for the billets,’ ’ Pierre explained. “Even I, a worthless cripple, know that.”

Valerie saw the hurt look deepen in her brother’s eyes and hastened to change the subject.

“If we are to billet American troops,” she said, “I think I had better go and find Mama. Do you know where she is V ’

“Yes, in the dairy trying to teach Lizette how to make butter; and grandpapa is in the orchard.

If he sees the officers first he will offer to house the whole regiment.”

Valerie laughed heartily. “You are right, I must fly to Mama.” She hurried off, and Pierre rested his crutches against the hedge and waited.

When the three officers reached the gate, he stood as straight as he could and gave the military salute. The American officers returned it gravely, and the French interpreter stepped forward.

“Good morning, Monsieur Duval,” he said politely, “may I present to you Captain Webb and Lieutenant Carey of the American Army. They have come to interview Madame, your mother, to ask her if she will be good enough to house some of their men.”

Pierre let him finish without interrupting him, then he replied in English.

“It is an honor to meet you, sir,” he saluted first the Captain and then the Lieutenant. “My mother will be here at once. Won’t you step inside?” He pushed open the gate.

“Well, here’s a piece of luck,” Captain Webb laughed. ‘ ‘ Where did you learn to speak English?^

“My grandmother was an American, sir,” Pierre replied proudly.

“Good enough. That’s like finding an old friend,” Lieutenant Carey exclaimed, just as Madame Duval and Valerie appeared around the

corner of the house.

They came to attention at once and saluted. “You will not need me, I take it, Madame,” the little Frenchman bowed and stepped to one side. “Your son tells us that you speak English.”

Madame Duval smiled and nodded. She was a tall, capable-looking woman with a decided, but gracious manner. She was fair like her son, but her eyes had the same expression as her daughter’s.

“Thank you, Monsieur, I think I can manage without you.” She turned to the Captain. “What can I do for you? My place is, of course, at your disposal. We’ve three bedrooms to spare at the house, and the barn is empty. The Government took our last horse not long ago. The barn is not very comfortable, but it ’s dry. * 9 She smiled and led the way towards the house. Valerie went ahead to open the door.

“Did you say it was tough luck to have to arrange for billets ? ’ ’ Captain W ebb inquired in an aside to his companion. “Well here’s where I show you how easy it is.”

Lieutenant Carey nodded in satisfaction.

“You don’t know how good it sounds to hear English again, Madame,” Captain Webb said as they walked towards the house.

“I can imagine,” Madame laughed. “Ours, I’m afraid, is a little rusty, we speak so seldom. My father-in-law, Monsieur Duval, who lives with us, does not understand it, and so we speak French entirely among ourselves; but I try to make the children read English as much as possible.”

She turned to Valerie.

“This is my daughter, Captain Webb.”

Valerie held out her hand.

“How do you do, Captain,” she said shyly.

“Delighted, I’m sure,” the Captain replied, “may I present Lieutenant Carey?”

4 ‘Valerie, take Lieutenant Carey around and show him the barn, will you — you and Pierre ?” her mother suggested; “perhaps that will save time, and I know you want to do that,” she smiled at the Captain. “I will show you the rooms.”

She entered the broad doorway, and the Captain followed her up the narrow flight of stairs.

The Duvals’ house was a large one, a low rambling building with big spacious rooms, comfortable, but not at all pretentious.

Valerie lead the way to the barn.

“It is fun having you here,” she said to Lieutenant Carey, “we see so few soldiers.”

“Well, we can certainly fix that for you by to-night,” the Lieutenant replied. “You’ll see so many that you’ll get tired of us.”

“I don’t think so,” Valerie shook her head.

“The only thing we get tired of, is doing the same thing day after day,” Pierre added. “France is at war, but up here on our hill we go on living the same as ever.”

Lieutenant Carey was quick to notice the sad note in his voice. “Well, you’ll have plenty to do to-morrow, ’ ’ he replied cheerfully. “You ’ll have to act as interpreter for the whole regiment.”

“Here’s the barn,” Valerie pushed open the big sliding door before Lieutenant Carey could help her. “Will it suit?” she asked, smiling.

“I should say so. Why, it’s a wonderful find. The boys will all be scrapping over who will stay here. Let’s see the floor space.” And the Lieutenant looked about him and nodded in approval.

“And there’s a loft upstairs,” Pierre added, pointing to the ladder.

“Thirty men easily, and in case some of the places in the village won’t do, we can put in more. There, that’s fine, now let’s go back to the house.” The Lieutenant wrote down something in a note book.

“Will you stay here?” Pierre inquired. “At our house I mean?” he added eagerly.

“I hope so,” Lieutenant Carey replied. “I most certainly hope so, — it’s the only comfortable spot I’ve seen since I arrived in France, and I’d hate to think I was not going to enjoy it personally. ’ ’

Pierre’s face brightened. “I was afraid you would choose the Inn,” he said.

When they reached the front of the house, Madame Duval and the Captain were waiting for them. Lieutenant Carey reported and they turned to leave.

“I hope we will not bother you very much,” the Captain said. “You’ve been awfully good about it, but I know it must be a bother to have an army descend upon you, particularly when you are so busy. Do you run the farm yourself ?”

Madame Duval nodded.

“Yes, Captain Webb, I do,” she replied; “and I have run it ever since the death of my husband ten years ago. It is not very difficult in peace times when there are plenty to help, but it is hard just now; I have no one but girls and old women to work. Our France has called even the boys.”

Captain Webb nodded. “I know,” he said quietly.

Valerie glanced quickly at her mother, a sudden look of apprehension in her eyes. But Madame

Duval did not see it, she was shaking hands with Lieutenant Carey.

‘ ‘We will see you both to-night, I hope?” she inquired, ‘ 1 you say the regiment will arrive sometime this afternoon.”

The Captain nodded. “Oh, you 11 see us,” he laughed. 1 ‘Nothing but sudden death, or an order from the Colonel will stop us. You see, we’ve decided to use the little Inn for Headquarters, because it’s near the station, you understand — but the Colonel may have something to say on the subject, if he sees your house first.”

“We hope he won’t,” Madame replied graciously, “we will be very disappointed if you don’t return to us.”

The officers saluted, and with the interpreter started back on their way to the village. Pierre followed them to the garden gate, but Valerie, once their backs were turned, hurried into the house and flew up the stairs into her room. From the big fourposted bed she snatched up a number of garments, rolled them hastily into a bundle, and hid them in the third drawer of her dresser.

“Phew, that was a narrow escape !” she said when the drawer was tight shut. “Thank goodness I remembered to shut my door when Pierre called.’ ’

CHAPTER n

T three o’clock that afternoon the little village of Vinon was a scene of bustle and confusion. The market-place was filled with laughing, jostling soldiers, and the inhabitants were rushing about excitedly. From the little town hall, an old building that had witnessed the arrival and departure of many troops, the tricolor and the stars and stripes floated side by side.

Not since the fifth day of August three years before, when the tocsin had sounded the call to arms had the people been so roused. They cheered the American troops as they had cheered their own boys; flowers were thrown from the windows of the little cottages, and four very old men, all that were left of the band, played the splendid strain of the Marseillaise. The Burgomaster made a short, but enthusiastic welcome speech that lost a little in its hasty translation by the interpreter.

The Americans viewed the setting prepared for them, and grinned good-naturedly. They were a little embarrassed at so much demonstration.

A small basket cart, drawn by a fat little donkey stood at one side of the square, a little to the right of the town hall. In it were Pierre, his eyes bright with excitement, Valerie, and a little, thin old gentleman with snow-white hair, Monsieur DuvaL He wore three medals on his worn black coat, and his hands trembled as he passed his cigarette case among the soldiers.

When the Mayor’s speech was over, the men were ordered to their billets, and again the good people of Vinon bustled about, this time in their own cottages, to make everything ready to receive their guests.

Pierre watched the Colonel, followed by his staff, go into the Inn, and sighed with relief.

“If he will only stay there,” he said, “we can be sure of our officers returning to us.”

“There’s Lieutenant Carey now,” Valerie ex-

24 VALEKIE DUVAL

claimed , 1 1 and oh, do look at that giant he has with him!”

“He sees us,” Pierre cried eagerly. “See, he is coming. ’ ’

A lane opened in the crowd of olive-drab uniforms, and the lieutenant, followed by the “giant,” came towards the cart.

“Well, here we are again,” he laughed as he shook Pierre’s hand, “and I think it’s safe to say that we will be with you. ’ ’

“This is Lieutenant Fielding, who is to share our good luck with us.”

“Oh, Monsieur, you are so big!” Valerie murmured, forgetting herself for the moment, as she looked at the broad-shouldered man before her. Then she blushed. “I beg your pardon, I did not mean to be rude,” she exclaimed.

“This is my grandfather, Monsieur Duval.”

The old gentleman saluted gravely and replied in French. Valerie did her best to interpret his long sentence, then Captain Webb joined them, and the formalities were repeated.

Lieutenant Carey left to lead the men who were billeted in the Duvals’ barn, up the hill, but Captain Webb and Lieutenant Fielding waited beside the donkey cart. They saw the men form into line, and at a command from Lieutenant Carey start off. Pierre picked up the reins, and the donkey, after a little coaxing, followed, the two officers keeping up with his slow pace, one on either side of the cart.

In a few hours the men had made themselves quite at home on the Duval farm. The three officers, their rooms in order, smoked contentedly on the brick terrace, while the privates, with the exception of the unfortunate ones chosen for kitchen duty, lounged on the grassy slope of the hill and watched the sun set behind the church tower in the village below.

Pierre, even in so short a time, had transferred his allegiance from the officers to the men. He sat on the ground beside them and watched them curiously.

“What are you thinking about, Bud?” a big, tall Westerner inquired good-naturedly.

Pierre shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing much,” he replied sighing, but the expression of envy in his eyes, as he looked at the big men about him, made an explanation of his thoughts unnecessary.

The men were silent. Some of them glanced out of the corner of their eyes at Pierre’s twisted legs and felt suddenly uncomfortable.

“Sing,” Pierre said at last, “that funny song you were singing in the square to-day, the one about ‘get your gun and run.’ ”

The men laughed, and one of them struck up the familiar tune of “Over There.”

On the terrace the officers joined in, and old Monsieur Duval kept time on the floor with his heavy cane. In the kitchen Valerie and her mother smiled as they worked. They were preparing their supper. Madame had insisted that her guests join them at table, and was making extra dishes especially for them. She paused long enough to glance out of the window at the group on the lawn.

“Pierre is in the very center of them,” she laughed to Valerie.

“Poor Pierre, it is so hard for him!” Valerie replied. “I do hope he won't have another of those blue fits. Sometimes I think if he would only say things — or get very angry, perhaps, instead of just sitting still and looking with those sad eyes, I wouldn't mind so much.”

“I know,” her mother nodded, “he is very patient. I do hope grandpapa does not start to talk to-night. When he begins about the bravery of the Duvals, I can see how it hurts Pierre to listen.”

“Don't worry,” Valerie laughed. “I promise to talk so much that he won’t get in a word.”

The song outside stopped, and they went on with their work.

Dinner was soon ready, and during the meal Monsieur Duval was very quiet. Pierre did most of the talking. He asked questions mostly about the men he had just left.

“Who is that great big one?” he asked Captain Webb. “He is, I think, almost bigger than you are.” He looked at Lieutenant Fielding and smiled. “And you know Valerie called you a giant. ' '

“Oh, Pierre, how mean you are!” Valerie protested in French.

They all laughed at her embarrassment, Fielding most of all, and Captain Webb replied: “I think you must mean Jim Goodwin. He was a baseball player before he joined the Army.”

* ‘Baseball. Oh, is that your American game ? ’ * Pierre inquired. “I have read of it in American books.”

“Well, it’s one of them,” Captain Webb smiled. 1 ‘ Do you know how to play it?”

“No,” Pierre shook his head. “I understand English cricket, but, of course, I don’t play anything .”

“Well, if you can understand cricket,” Lieutenant Carey interrupted hurriedly, “you can do more than I can. Tell you what we’ll do, — to-morrow I’ll explain baseball to you, and you explain cricket to me. Is it a go?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Pierre was outwardly delighted at the idea.

The talk drifted pleasantly to other subjects, and it was not until supper was over and they were all sitting before the small fire that the cool fall night made necessary, that Monsieur Duval spoke, Valerie acting as interpreter.

“It is a rare privilege to see soldiers again around our fire,” he began in his quivering voice. “It is many years ago that I sat here with my two brothers before the war — many years,” he sighed.

After a pause Lieutenant Fielding pointed to the medals he wore and asked what they were. The old gentleman was only too glad to explain them, and describe how, during the Franco-Prussian war, he had been a gay and brave French soldier. One story led to another, and the American officers were greatly interested.

“The Duvals are a family of fighters, aren’t they?” the Captain asked.

“Indeed yes,” Monsieur Duval replied proudly, when Valerie had translated for him. “We are not a great family, but we are a very old family, and we have always been loyal sons to France. This, alas, is the first time she has ever called, that a Duval has not answered, but this time there is no one to go.”

YALEEIE DUVAL

“ Grandpapa can’t get used to being old,” Valerie explained. “He says be would like to fight again.”

She could see her brother’s eyes in the firelight, and she tried to make light of her grandfather’s profound sigh, but Pierre would not let her.

“That is not truly what grandpapa said,” he contradicted. “He said that this war was the first in which a Duval had not fought,” he explained simply. “It is true; but when the call came three years ago there was only an old man and a cripple boy,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Not much good either of us, eh, for soldiers?”

“Oh, come, seems to me the Duvals have done their share,” Lieutenant Fielding tried to laugh, but failed miserably. In his big heart he was thinking none too kindly of the very thoughtless old gentleman sitting opposite him.

“But now that the Americans are here everything is going to be all right,” Madame Duval exclaimed, getting up. “Come along children, it is bed time. We’ve work for to-morrow.”

Pierre and Valerie obeyed at once. They said goodnight and lighted their candles from the fire and went upstairs.

When Valerie was alone in her room, she sat a long time before her mirror, thinking. The officers came up to their rooms, and after a while the house grew quiet. Then she heard a stealthy click, click on the stairs. She went over to the window and watched. As she expected she saw Pierre hobble slowly down to the garden path, and after a minute the faint strains of a flute came up to her. She caught the first few bars of the Marseillaise. Pierre was playing away his sorrows on his beloved instrument.

Valerie went over to her dresser and opened the third drawer. She looked long and earnestly at the bundle in it.

‘ 4 Perhaps it will be necessary after all,” she said.

Chapter III Pieree

‘ AXL two, strike two ! ’ ’

r - ^ ‘ 6 Strike? How do you make that

out ? ’ ’

A howl of protest rose from the side lines, and for a few minutes the game was suspended, while the players from both contesting teams surrounded the umpire and endeavored to point out his mistake. The umpire, however, refused to alter his decision. He was the company cook, and he was used to complaints.

“Ball two, strike two,” he said calmly. “Go back to your bases or the game won’t go on.”

The men reluctantly returned, and Pierre’s friend of the night before took his place in the pitcher’s box. Then the umpire called “play ball,” and the game began again.

It was Saturday afternoon, and the men from the Duval farm had challenged the men from the village to a ball game. An even grassy field back of the barn had been converted into a diamond, and the stone wall that surrounded it made an excellent grandstand.

Lieutenant Carey was watching the match with interest, and explaining the plays as best he could to Pierre who sat beside him. Valerie and Lieutenant Fielding watched from across the field.

“But that was a ball, I am sure of it,” Pierre said in dismay as he watched the man at the bat take his place. “Why do the men let that umpire decide?” he demanded. “They should fight.”

Lieutenant Carey laughed. “That’s one of the rules of baseball, son. If the umpire says it’s a strike, a strike it is,” he explained. “An umpire’s more important in baseball than a General is in the Army ; what he says goes.”

“I see, but 1 should think he would be afraid. Me, I would not dare to contradict! What does the man in — how do you call it? — the pitcher’s box — what does he say?”

“Oh, Goodwin agrees with the umpire. You see, he pitched the ball and he ’d much rather have it called a strike.’ ’

“Oh, well, then if he says it is a strike it must have been. I thought he was angry.” Pierre’s tone was mollified ; he was changing his mind in favor of his hero.

The game continued. There were more discussions, more arguments with the umpire, but at last they reached the ninth inning. The score was a tie, and the Duval farm team were at bat in the last half. The bases were full with two men out. Pierre, once he realized the importance of the situation, was so excited that he cheered and called advice in rapid French.

Goodwin was at bat. The first ball was a foul, and the umpire called ‘ ‘ strike one ! ’ ’

“No, no, he hit it, I protest!” Pierre leaned forward excitedly, but no one paid any attention to him.

Goodwin let the next two balls go by, but the third he hit, — hit it so hard that his bat cracked open* and the ball went flying far beyond the grasp of the outfielders.

The excitement was great, the men cheered and shouted, and Pierre in his excitement slipped off the wall. He could not reach his crutches in time, and his poor paralyzed legs could not support him ; he fell limply to the ground.

Lieutenant Carey sprang to help him, but Pierre waved him away.

“Please, please do not notice me/’ he begged. “I couldn’t bear it, here before all these men.”

Lieutenant Carey nodded in understanding, and Pierre tried pluckily to join again in the cheering. Valerie and Lieutenant Fielding were probably the only two who saw the tumble.

“He has grit, poor youngster,” the Lieutenant said, “what a shame it is!”

“It is more of a shame than you think, Monsieur,” Valerie replied. “He is so proud and his spirit is so great, I think sometimes he will go mad. You heard last night how my grandfather spoke. Well, every word he says burns into my poor Pierre’s heart. Grandpapa is an old man, and of course he does not understand,” she added by way of apology.

Lieutenant Fielding had thought, since the night before, that old Monsieur Duval should be kept quiet, even if a muzzle were necessary, but he did not say so. Instead he suggested a walk. The game was over and the men from the village were preparing to leave.

Valerie knew that Pierre would wait until they were all out of sight before he would attempt to get up.

“Very well,” she agreed, “I will show you the woods up there as I promised. They are very lovely in the sunset, and you will tell me about America, as you promised. Are the girls very different over there from us?” she asked as they strolled slowly towards the woods.

“Not very,” Lieutenant Fielding replied, “I guess girls are the same the world over. Of course, our girls are a little bit more independent than most French girls — I mean they do pretty much as they please.”

“They are very brave, yes?” Valerie said eagerly.

4 i Oh, I don’t know, it isn’t exactly bravery, but they do things. ’ ’

“Tell me what they do?” Valerie demanded.

Lieutenant Fielding laughed.

“I happened to be thinking of a certain girl when I said that,” he explained. “She’s Lieutenant Carey’s sister, and her name is Helen, but most everybody that knows her calls her Missy.”

“And is she very brave?” Valerie insisted.

“Well, she has a good deal of spunk, at least I think so, but then I ’m partial, you see. She saved my life twice, and so of course I think she’s just about all right.”

“Tell me about it?”

“Well, I can’t exactly. You see, you wouldn’t understand unless you knew all about the West, and of course you don’t; but here are the facts. One day two men — they happened to be acting for the German government — it was before we entered the war you know that this happened — ”

Valerie nodded eagerly.

“Well, you see these men had decided to kill me.

They got me all right; I was unconscious and never would have waked up to what was going on, but Missy happened to overhear their little scheme and she held them up, both of them, mind you, at the point of a gun, until I came to.”

“Oh!” Valerie drew a deep sigh of excitement, and her eyes sparkled. “She must be very splendid. Tell me about the next time ? ’ ’

Lieutenant Fielding laughed and shook his head. “Missy would kill me if she could hear me,” he protested.

“But why?”

“Oh, she isn’t exactly fond of having us brag about her,” he explained, “but she’ll never know this trip, so what’s the difference? The second time was after we had declared war. We were all going east to a camp — a whole train full of soldiers — and somehow Missy found out that a German was going to blow up a bridge we had to cross, so she told Captain Webb.”

“Oh, did she know him too?” Valerie inquired.

“Oh, yes, she was visiting his cousin at the time it all happened,” Lieutenant Fielding explained, and continued his story: “They jumped into a car, and Webb had a fight with the German on the bridge. They both fell into the water, and Missy, instead of waiting to pull ’em out, drove down the road and stopped the train before it reached the bridge. Her brother and I were on it, you see.”

“ And Captain Webb?” Valerie stopped walking and waited.

“Oh, he swam ashore all right, but the German didn’t,” Lieutenant Fielding laughed. “Missy was badly hurt, her shoulder was broken, but she didn’t seem to care, and now she’s going to marry Captain Webb after the war,” he finished.

Valerie regarded him for a full minute, then she asked suddenly, “Are you sorry?”

Lieutenant Fielding looked at her in surprise.

“Goodness no, why should I be? Webb’s one of the finest men I know. I’m glad; so’s Tom — that’s Lieutenant Carey, you know.”

Valerie nodded. “I would like to meet Missy,” ^he said gravely, “only I would be ashamed; I have never done anything brave in my whole life.”

“Nonsense, you haven’t had a chance,” Lieutenant Fielding replied. “And as for seeing Missy, perhaps you will some day. She’s in France now, you know, working in a hospital . 9 9

Valerie did not reply, but turned around and started back towards the house.

J ust as they came out of the woods and reached the end of the garden they heard the notes of a flute.

“What’s that?” Lieutenant Fielding stopped to listen.

Valerie put her finger to her lips. The music stopped and they heard muffled sobs.

“It is Pierre, I knew he would be sad again,” Valerie whispered. “You go back to the house; I will stay with him . 9 9

i ‘ Sure I can ’t help ? Perhaps I could cheer him up,” Lieutenant Fielding offered, but Valerie shook her head.

“No, it is much better for you to go.”

The Lieutenant nodded and tiptoed down the path.

When he was out of sight Valerie called: “Pierre, where are you, my dear?”

A voice from behind a big shrub answered her. Pierre was lying on the ground, his face buried in the grass, and his frail body shook with sobs.