Standing off to one side of the main door, Revelation and Logan greeted her. “How is your room?” Logan asked.
“Luxurious! Far too nice for me. And yours?”
“Well, it’s better than the one I’ve got at home.”
“Better than that shack I was living in, too,” Rev said. “But I’ve learned in whatsoever state I’m in to be content. Now, let’s eat.”
Acting on Revelation’s suggestion, they moved into the dining salon, which was at least sixty feet long and decorated with Colonial furniture. Ornately carved sycamore paneling outlined the entire dining area. They were seated by a maître d’ in a white coat, who said, “Your waiter will be here promptly.”
As soon as he left, a short, swarthy man with a spiked black mustache and dancing black eyes said, “Yes, indeed! May I bring you something to drink?”
“I’d appreciate a glass of water, and let me ask you a question, brother. Have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb?”
“Sir?”
Without lowering his voice one decibel, Revelation started inquiring into the waiter’s spiritual condition but was interrupted at once by Logan, who said, “You can do your preaching later, Rev. Let’s order.”
The waiter stared at the two men quite askance, for both were still wearing jeans and checkered shirts and had placed their Stetsons on the table. Neither wore spurs, but both wore high-heeled cowboy boots. The waiter smiled, “You are from the American West, I take it?”
“Montana, partner,” Logan grinned. “Now, let’s talk about something to eat.”
“Yes, of course. We have lobster. Here is our menu.”
The three took the menus, and at once Revelation exclaimed, “Why, this here ain’t English!”
“No, sir. It is French.”
Shrugging his narrow shoulders, Revelation put his finger on one line and said, “I’ll have some of this.”
The waiter’s glance followed his finger, and he sniffed. “That is not something to eat, sir. That is the motto of our line. The finest ship afloat.”
“I guess we’d better learn to read French if that’s where we’re going. I had a year of it in high school,” Jo smiled. “Let’s see if I can figure it out.”
The meal turned out to be quite an event. They had lobster with mayonnaise and spiced round of beef, and Revelation insisted on trying ox tongue.
He pronounced it to be not as good as jerky but passable. They also consumed huge salads dosed with Cheshire cheese and sliced apples. For dessert they had rice custard pudding and coffee.
The coffee did not suit either Logan or Revelation, for it came in small china cups.
“Hey, buddy,” Logan said. “Have you got any big white mugs back in there?”
“I’m sorry, sir. These are the largest cups we have.”
“Why, I spill more than this, fella!” Revelation protested.
“You’ll just have to drink more cups to make up for the size,” Jo smiled. “Now, stop tormenting the poor man.” She turned to the waiter and said, “Merci beaucoup.”
The waiter beamed. “Certainement, mademoiselle.”
The trio sat there drinking coffee, and Jo said, “Are you sure we’ve done the right thing? It seems so . . . impulsive.”
“When the Lord moves, He moves all of a sudden,” Revelation nodded firmly. “It’s what God planned for us before the world was even built.”
“I wish,” Jo said quietly, “that I were as sure of everything I do as you are.”
“Why, you ought to be,” Revelation said with surprise. “You don’t think the Lord wants to keep things a secret from you, do you?”
“I think He does sometimes,” Jo murmured.
“Well, I guess I’ve got to work on your theology a little bit, Miss Jo. But we’ve got a long trip to do it in. Why don’t we meet every morning for a little Bible study?”
“That would be fine, but you’ll have to go slow. I’m not as advanced as you are.”
“How about if I go get that soup hound of yours and take him for a walk?” The officer in charge had been firm that Bedford could not be kept in Jo’s cabin. The three had gone down to inspect the quarters and found that there was a well-designed kennel, clean and airy and yet well heated when necessary. Bedford had whined when put into the cage, but it was large with a thick rug on the deck. The attendant had assured her that he would be watered and fed regularly.
“I wish you would, Revelation,” Jo said. “He gets lonely.”
As soon as Revelation left the dining room, Jo smiled fondly in his direction. “I like him very much, but he’s very unusual, isn’t he?”
“I’ll say,” Logan nodded. “I never met anyone like him.”
Logan leaned back in his chair, his legs out in front of him as he studied Jo. Finally he asked without warning, “How come you’re not married?”
“Never found a man I wanted.”
“You must be pretty picky.”
“I am.”
“Plenty of men in New York, though.”
“Plenty of squirrels, too. It’s not the same thing, is it, Logan?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love but six or seven times myself.”
Laughing, Jo sipped her coffee. “I bet you’ve had lots of romances.”
“Nary a one. Not serious, that is. Hard to believe, isn’t it? A good-looking galoot like me.”
“Yes, it is. But you’re only nineteen.”
“Well, my best friend was only eighteen when he got married last year. I feel like maybe I’m missing something.”
“But if you were married, you couldn’t just jump up and run off to France, could you?”
Logan’s lips turned upward in a smile. His tanned skin caught a gleam of the light, and he looked hard and tough and fit as he sat there. A lot of riding had slimmed him down, molded his muscles, and he had an eagerness about him that had never been quenched. “This all may amount to nothing, this war, I mean. They may settle it even before we get to France.”
“No. I don’t think so, Logan,” Jo said quietly. “It’s gone too far for that.” She hesitated, then said, “Have you thought about the fact that you might be killed?”
“Oh sure. Always possible. Every time I got on a bull I thought that, too. A man can get killed crossing the street.”
“It’s not the same thing, is it?”
Logan sobered then and put his hands together in front of him. They were tough hands, strong, with flexible fingers, scarred by rope and hard work. He clenched them together tightly for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s just something I have to do.”
The two sat there for some time, and finally the dining room was almost empty. They were about ready to leave when a man next to them suddenly turned.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation.”
Both Logan and Jo turned to look at the man. He was a handsome man with blond hair and bright blue eyes and very fair skin. “Did I understand you to say you’re going to France to enlist in the French army?”
“That’s right.”
“It will do you no good, I’m afraid,” the man said.
“Why’s that, partner?” Logan asked. He was studying the stranger carefully, trying to make out what his purpose was in addressing them. “I figure I’ll be doing a good thing.”
“My name is Mueller. Kurt Mueller. I am also leaving the States to enlist in the army.” He hesitated, then his mouth grew tense. “But it will be the army of Kaiser Wilhelm.”
A silence then seemed to implode around the three. Jo’s eyes were fixed on the German’s face, and she glanced once at Logan. This is it in miniature. The Germans versus the rest of the world. Anyone that stands in their way. Americans, French, Russians. She said quietly, “I’m afraid we do not agree with your politics, Mr. Mueller.”
“No. I think not. I believe it will be a very short war, and that all of us will be home by Christmas.”
�
�I doubt that,” Logan said. Then a curious thought came into his mind, What if I meet this man on the battlefield? We’d each have a rifle and we’d try to kill each other. He saw the health blooming in Mueller, could even see the pulse beating in his throat. He was full of life, and Logan asked himself the question, Could I aim a gun at this man’s heart? At this man’s brain and pull the trigger? Or could I drive a bayonet into his body? For some reason the war seemed to be closer, and he said quietly, “I hope you’re right, but I have doubts.”
“I wish you well,” Mueller said. He bowed slightly, then turned and walked away.
“How about that?” Logan said. “Good-looking man, isn’t he? And strong. I think he would make a good soldier.”
“Germans make good soldiers, but their cause isn’t always right.”
The two rose then and went to their cabins, and when Logan told Revelation about the incident, the face of the other twisted up into a grimace. “That’s the trouble with wars. You have to kill nice folks sometimes.”
****
From the time the trio descended the gangplank and traveled by train to the city of Paris, they were stunned by all they saw.
The worst of all for the three of them was, of course, the language. Except for a smattering of French possessed by Jo, they were helpless before cabdrivers, waiters, officials, and anyone else. They finally managed to get to a hotel with the help of a cabdriver who spoke something Logan thought was English but resembled it only slightly. The man demanded full fare for Bedford, and that only after Jo pled with him.
Fortunately, the clerk at the hotel spoke excellent English and greeted them warmly. “Ah, welcome to Paris. Your first trip?”
“Yes, our first trip. We need two rooms please,” Logan said. “One for me and this gent, and one for the lady and the dog.”
“The dog?”
“Yes, I have to have him with me,” Jo said quickly. “I’ll pay extra, of course.”
“In that case, it will be all right.”
They found their rooms comfortable enough, but at Logan’s insistence they left at once. “We need to find an enlistment office,” he said.
“But this is Sunday! They won’t be open!” Jo protested.
“Well, we can find out where it is.”
“None of that. We’re going to church,” Revelation said firmly. “ ‘Six days shalt thou do all thy labor,’ as the Scripture says. This day belongs to the Lord, so we’re going to find a church.”
Finding a church proved to be somewhat difficult, but after a few attempts they got instructions from a policeman who spoke some English. “Ah, church. L’église.” He gave some garbled instructions, then said, “Big building—cathedral.”
“Come on. We can’t miss a cathedral,” Logan grinned.
As they strolled down the street, Revelation seemed to be in deep thought. Finally he said, “You know what I think?”
“What’s that, Rev?”
“I think if you woke any of these people up in the middle of the night—”
“What about it, Revelation?” Jo questioned.
“Why, if you did that, I think they’d talk just like we do. Just like everybody else does.”
Both Logan and Jo found this amusing, but Revelation saw nothing odd about it. Soon they found their way into a large cathedral. When Revelation saw the worshipers stopping to dip their hands into the holy water and cross themselves, he proceeded to do the same.
“Why, you’re not a Catholic!” Logan protested.
“It must be the way these folks do it. When they come to my church, they can do like I do. When I’m in their church, I’ll do like they do.”
They went in and took their seats, and all three were stunned by the enormous size of the building. Looking up at the ceiling so far above them, Logan murmured, “I’ve never seen such a building.”
“Neither have I,” Jo whispered.
Revelation said nothing. He sat through the Mass not understanding a word of it, but when the service was finished, he leaned over and asked a tall, distinguished looking Frenchman, “What time does the preaching start, brother?”
The Frenchman, startled, twisted his head around. “Pardon, monsieur?”
“I say, what time does the exhorting begin?”
“The service. It is over,” the tall man protested.
“Well, if that’s it, I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied. Are you saved, dear friend?”
It took both Logan and Jo to pry Revelation loose from the object of his quest, who understood absolutely nothing of what he was talking about. “He wouldn’t have understood you even if you were speaking in French,” Logan said. “These people don’t know what you mean when you say, ‘Are you saved?’ ”
“Well, haven’t they ever read the Bible?”
“Most of them haven’t,” Jo murmured. “The French believe, for the most part, that the priests read the Bible, and then they explain it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t like that. Not at all. I don’t guess I’ll ever be a Catholic.”
After the service was over, they had lunch out on a sidewalk café.
Revelation inquired as to the waiter’s spiritual condition, and upon being met with a blank stare, he looked around and said, “I guess they couldn’t afford to build a building.”
“No. They just like this, I think,” Jo said. “It is kind of nice, isn’t it?” The sun was shining, and the café was soon filled up. Once again Jo ordered from the menu, but not recognizing many of the selections, they had a light lunch.
Afterward they strolled the streets of Paris and finally retired to their hotel rooms. After a brief nap, Jo took Bedford out and noticed that most of the strollers kept a good distance between her and the great dog. As she passed by a large fountain, she sat down and watched the water shooting up high into the air and falling back. It made a tremendous roaring sound, and she studied the greenish bronze figures of nymphs and mermaids and gargoyles. Somehow a feeling of fear came to her. “What am I doing here?” she said. “I must have lost my mind. Those two are obviously crazy, but I think I’m as crazy as they are.” She reached over and hugged Bedford and said, “You’ve got to be a crazy dog, because you’ve got a crazy lady for an owner.” Taking a deep breath, she got up and walked back, thinking, I’ll have to get somebody’s permission to get to the battlefields, and I haven’t the slightest idea where to start.
****
“What do you mean we can’t enlist?” Logan said loudly and indignantly. “Why, my friend and I have come all the way from America to fight your war.”
The French officer was a lean, sallow-faced individual with sad-looking eyes. He did speak passable English but had to do so slowly. “I am sorry, but it is against the law.”
“Against the law! Well, that can’t be!” Revelation said. “God’s told us to come over here and fight. He wouldn’t tell us to do anything that’s against the law.”
The lips of the Frenchman suddenly twisted upward into a thin smile. “If that is the case, you must take it up with Him. God’s regulations sometimes differ from ours, you understand.”
Jo stood to one side studying the officer. The recruiting office had not been difficult to find, and they had discovered that many were signing up to fight. None of them were Americans, however, that she could detect.
Finally after a long argument, Logan said, “I really came over, sir, to fly for France. I am a pilot, and this man is my mechanic, the best in the United States.”
“I’m sure your services would be appreciated,” the officer said, “but it is impossible.”
“Why is it impossible?”
“Because in order to enlist in our army, you must renounce your American citizenship and become a citizen of France.”
Logan stared at him blankly. “Why, I can’t do that!” he exclaimed.
“Me either,” Rev spoke up. “I’m an American. Always will be.”
“Then it is clearly impossible.”
The argument went on
for some time until finally the officer threw up his hands. “You will have to talk to the captain. I have other men to enlist. He will tell you the same as I, but he might do it more clearly.”
Captain Renard was a short, heavyset man with an olive complexion and tired gray eyes. He listened as Logan told his story, and then said, “Lieutenant Moreau has informed you of the obstacles. All who enlist in our army must be French citizens.”
“But there must be something you can do, Captain.”
For a moment the officer stared at Logan, then sighed and spread his hands out in a gesture that was completely French. “There is one way, but I do not recommend it.”
“What’s that?” Logan demanded quickly, seeing some hope.
“The Foreign Legion enlists men from other nations without requiring French citizenship. If you enlist in the Legion, you can fight in the war.”
“But I want to fly.”
“I cannot guarantee that. I cannot guarantee anything, and I must tell you the Legion is a hard bunch of men. I would not think of it if I were you.”
They could get no more information out of the captain, so they left the building. For the rest of the day they walked around watching and listening to all the sights and sounds of the city. Not understanding the language was a difficulty, but it was obvious the nation was in an uproar. The streets were full of young men who had come in from the provinces to sign up. Young women were there too to put flowers in the lapels of the volunteers. Once a new troop came down the street, and the young women ran out to put flowers down the muzzles of the rifles and to kiss the long mustaches of the soldiers, who enjoyed it all.
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