"The real poilu?" The girl questioned softly. "The grandchild of the real poilu, maybe."
"I do not mock, Maman; but I will not have his head turned. The poor little cabbage!"
"See, Maman. She will not stop. Tell her that I fight for France."
For a moment the woman hesitated. They could hear the deep breath she took.
"For France. And for something else, my little son."
With great care the girl placed the lamp on the table.
"The thing for which France stands--; and conquers."
"Conquers? Of course she conquers. And I will help! I will kill the Boches. Right and left. I shall fight until France will win!"
A strange light had filtered into the woman's heavily lidded eyes.
"Bravo!" The girl clapped her hands together. "And shall we have our supper now, petite Maman, and my little rabbit?"
"Go, children. In a moment I will be with you."
"Come, my cauliflower. Maman would be alone."
"Jean--I do not mean to tease. Let us go in to supper. If I do not try to be pleasant I shall weep. You would not have me weep, brother Jean? I would wet the pretty shoulder of your uniform with my tears. That would be a tragedy. So come along to supper, my rascal."
Hand in hand the boy and the girl went through the loose-hung, plush curtain into the kitchen.
"Help me," she whispered beneath her breath. "You--"
She stumbled to her knees. Her head was pressed against the edge of the table. Her hands fumbled over the top of it, the fingers widespread and catching; clutching at whatever they touched.
From the kitchen came the sound of low voices. A knife rattled clatteringly against a plate. Once the girl laughed and her laughter snapped off in a half-smothered sob.
"Just to watch over him. That's all I ask.--You--across there, just--to--protect--him--"
Her hands went to her throat, the fingers tightening.
"A sign," she implored. "Dieu--that--you--hear--me!"
Her eyes stared about the room, peering frantically from under their heavy lids.
"Will you not help me?" She pleaded. "Dieu! mon Dieu,--will you not--help--me--?"
"You will not hear," she whimpered. "You will--not--hear--"
For a moment longer she waited in the tense silence. And then she rose stiffly to her feet. Her eyes riveted themselves upon a little pool of yellow light that lay in the center of the table under the lamp. The palms of her hands struck noiselessly together.