The Scarecrow and Other Stories Part 32

"He is such a child, Angele."

"Shall we have supper now?"

"Angele--"

"I will bring a light in here, Maman, and then when Jean is back we will go in to supper."

"He--is--such--a--child,--Angele."

"And never on time, Maman!"

The woman caught the girl's fingers between her own.

"Answer me, Angele. Answer me!"

The girl looked down in surprise.

"But what, Maman?"

The woman's breath came quickly.

"He is a child. Say that he is a baby. He is all that I have. You and he are all--everything! Say, Angele, that he is a child! Only yesterday, you remember--the long curls? The velvet suit? Surely it was yesterday.

Say, Angele, that he--is--still--a--little--one."

The girl threw back her head and laughed. The shadows lay like long, dark fingers on the white of her throat.

"Of course. He is young--too young even now when they take the young.

You have no need to worry, Maman. Maman--what is it?"

She had seen the sudden, far-away look in the woman's eyes.

She had seen her head stretch forward, the chin pointing, the mouth a little open.

"Maman--"

The woman's hand reached out in a gesture commanding silence.

"The voices," the woman whispered. "They have been after me the whole day. The voices. They--keep--coming--and--coming--to--me--I have not been able to think--for the voices--"

"Maman--"

"You say 'yes.' You are coming--nearer--nearer. No--I cannot see. But hear--Mais, it is good now! You speak distinctly. Of course I thank you for speaking so beautifully. You--say--you--want--want--"

"Pet.i.te Maman, you will make yourself ill with those old horoscopes and these voices. Pet.i.te Maman, have you not done enough for one day?"

The woman paid no attention to her. She did not seem to hear the girl.

Her face was pale; there were faint, bluish smudges about her mouth and nostrils.

"You want--I cannot--cannot understand what you want. I'm trying to understand. I'm trying hard! If you will tell it to me again.

And--slowly. With patience. It is better now. So that is it? More slowly,--if you can. Of course. Is it that you wish to know?

Of--course--I--shall--give--you--what--you--want. I always give you what--you want. I do my best for that. You--want--"

The woman's eyes were closed. She was breathing deeply. Her whole figure was tense. The girl stood beside her, a puzzled, half incredulous look coming into her face.

"I--should--look. It does no--good--to--look. I can never see--Beyond the wood--I should look beyond.--What wood? Now? Is it perhaps that--you--mean--gate? Swings to and fro? Now--you--want--; this--moment--"

The door was flung wide open.

At the noise the woman slowly opened her eyes, staring blindly before her.

"You--want--" She murmured.

A boy stood in the doorway. He was slight and young. His face was small and rather like the girl's face, and his dark eyes were set far apart like her eyes. Through the gray of the ma.s.sing shadows gleamed the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons of his uniform.

The girl sprang forward.

"Jean--!"

"Maman." The boy came a step into the room. "See, Maman!"

"Hush, Jean." The girl turned to gaze at the woman sitting there with that stony, frozen stare, staying in her eyes.

"Maman, they have taken me at last!"

"Oh," for a second the girl forgot the woman. "But I am proud of you!"

"Maman, I wear the uniform. They will let me go now. I knew they would take me. Sooner or later; I knew they would have to! Aren't you glad?"

The girl remembered and interrupted him.

"Be still, Jean!"

The boy stood looking from one to the other, his eyes straining through the gloom.

"Maman," he whispered.

The woman's voice came trailing softly to them.

"They--want--"

"Maman;" the girl threw her arm protectingly over the woman's shoulders.

"Jean is here. See, pet.i.te Maman; it is Jean. Your Jean."

The woman repeated the words in that gentle, plaintive singsong.

"They want--" and then she got to her feet. "Jean!--" Her voice rose shrilly crescendo. "It was that! My--Jean--"

"Maman;" the boy came and stood beside her. "You would not have me stay behind when they need me? You will be glad to have me go. Come, Maman, you must say that you are glad!"