by Nell Speed
CHAPTER XX.
A WAR BRIDE.
Marrying in Paris was certainly a much easier matter than it had beenalmost two years before when Molly Brown and Edwin Green had struggledto have the nuptial knot tied. Judy's baptismal certificate was notdemanded as had been Molly's, and the long waiting for research work, asKent expressed it, was not required. Mere Tricot undertook to engineerthe affair and did it with such expedition that it could have beenaccomplished even before Judy got her trunk from Giverny.
It was very nice to have one's trunk again, although it really wasembarrassing to take up so much of the Tricots' living room with thehuge American affair.
"It seems funny to be married without any trousseau," Judy confided toMere Tricot.
"No trousseau! And what is in that great box if not trousseau?"
"I am sure I don't know. I really haven't any clothes to speak of that Ican remember," declared Judy.
"Well, let us see them!" begged Marie and her belle mere.
They were dying of curiosity to peep into the great box, so Judyunpacked for their benefit, and their eyes opened wide at her stack ofshirt waists and lingerie and her many shoes.
"Two more suits and a great coat, silk dresses--at least three ofthem--and skirts and shirts of duck and linen!" exclaimed Marie. "Andhats and gloves--and blouses enough for three! Not many war brides willboast such a trousseau."
So our bride began to feel that in comparison to the little Marie, shehad so much that she must not worry about wedding clothes. Instead, shedivided her store of riches, and making up a bundle with a silk dressand some blouses and lingerie, a suit and a hat, she hid it in MereTricot's linen press for Marie to find when she, Judy, was married andgone over the seas.
She well knew that the French girl would not accept the present unlessit were given to her in a very tactful way, and just to find it in thelinen press with her name on it and the donor out of reach seemed toJudy the most diplomatic method.
Madame le Marquise d'Ochte must be looked up again. Not only were Kentand Judy very fond of her, but they knew they could not show their facesto Mrs. Brown unless they had seen her dear Sally Bolling. This timethey found her in the old home in the Faubourg. She had been to thefront and come back to get her house in readiness for the wounded.
Could this be the gay and volatile Marquise, this sad looking,middle-aged woman? She had grown almost thin during those few months ofthe war. Her beautiful Titian hair was now streaked with grey. Judyremembered with a choking feeling the first time she had come to theOchte home on that night soon after Molly and her mother had arrivedin Paris, when they had dined in the Faubourg and then gone to hear_Louise_ at the Opera. The Marquise had been radiant in black velvet anddiamonds, a beautiful, gay woman that one could hardly believe to be themother of Philippe. She had looked so young, so sparkling. She had saidat one time that she allowed no grey hairs to stay in her head, but hadher maid pull them out no matter how it hurt. Now it would take all amaid's time to keep down the grey hairs in that head, and would leavebut a scant supply for a coiffure could they be extracted.
Kent thought she looked more like his mother and loved her for it. Hergreeting was very warm and her interest great in what Judy and Kent hadbeen doing and what they meant to do. She received them in the greatsalon that had been converted into a hospital ward. All of the LouisQuinze furniture had been stored away in an upper chamber and now in itsplace were long rows of cots. The floor was bare of the handsome rugswhich had been the delight and envy of Judy on former visits, and nowthe parquetted boards were frotted to a point of cleanliness that nogerm would have dared to violate.
"I left the pictures for the poor fellows to look at--that is, thosewho are spared their eyesight," she said sadly. "My hospital opensto-morrow, but I want the privilege of giving a wedding breakfast to youyoung people. I can well manage it in the small _salle a manger_. Thatis left as it was."
"Oh, you are so kind, but dear old Mere Tricot is making a great cakefor us and she would be sad indeed if she could not give the breakfast,"explained Judy.
"That is as it should be," said the Marquise kindly, "but am I invited?"
"Invited! Of course you are invited, and the Marquis and Philippe ifthey can be got hold of."
"They are still in camp and have not gone to the fore, so I will manageto reach them. Jean is very busy, drilling all the time, but a familywedding must be attended. Philippe is learning to fly," and she closedher eyes a moment as though to shut out the remembrance of accidentsthat happen all the time to the daring aviators.
Judy wondered if he had come in contact with Josephine Perkins, but saidnothing as it was a deep secret that Jo was passing off as a man and aword might give her away.
"There are many Americans in the aviation camp, and very clever and aptthey are, Philippe says. I am proud of my countrymen for coming forwardas they are."
"Yes, I think it is great for them to. I--I--think I ought not to marryKent and go off and leave so much work to be done. I ought to help.Don't you think so, Cousin Sally?" asked Judy.
The Marquise smiled at Judy's calling her cousin, smiled and liked it.Kent looked uneasy and a little sullen. Suppose his Judy should balk atthe last minute and refuse to leave the stirring scenes of war! Whatthen? He had sworn not to return to United States without her, andunless he did return in a very short time, the very good job he hadpicked up in New York would be filled by some more fortunate and lessin love young architect.
"Why, my dear, it is not the duty of all American girls to stay on thisside and nurse any more than it is the duty of all American men to stayhere and fight. Only those must do it who are called, as it were, by thespirit. You must marry my young cousin and go back to United States, andthere your duty will begin, not only to make him the brave, fine wifethat I know it is in you to make, but also to remember suffering Franceand Belgium. There is much work waiting for you. This war will last foryears, thanks to that same Belgium who threw herself in the breach andstopped the tide of Prussians flowing into France. If it had not beenfor Belgium, the war would have been over now--yes, over--but Francewould have been under the heel of the tyrant and Belgium off of the map.Thank God for that brave little country!" and Judy and Kent bowed theirheads as at a benediction.
Kent kissed the Marquise for her sensible advice. He very well knew thatJudy would have been a great acquisition to his cousin's hospital, andthat workers were not numerous (not so plentiful at the beginning of thewar as they were later). Her advice was certainly unselfish. He thankedher, also, for realizing that it was not up to all American men to stayand fight. He had no desire to fight any one unless his own country wasat war, and then he felt he would do his duty as his ancestors had donebefore him.
"I tell you what we'll do, you children and I: I'll order out the car--Istill keep one and a chauffeur so that with it I can bring the woundedback to Paris--and we will go out to the aviation camp and see Philippeand ask him to the wedding. You would like to see the camp, eh?"
"Above all things!" exclaimed Kent and Judy in chorus.
The broad grassy field, bordered by houses, sheds and workshops,presented a busy scene as the Ochte car drove up. Biplanes were parkedto one side like so many automobiles at a reception in a city, orbuggies at a county seat on court day in an American town. The field wasswarming with men, all eagerly watching a tiny speck off in the blue skyin the direction of the trenches where the French had called a halt onthe Germans' insolent and triumphant march to Paris.
No more attempt was made to stop the car of Madame the Marquise fromcoming into the aviation camp than there would have been had she beenJoffre himself.
"They know me very well," she said in answer to Kent's inquiry as tothis phenomenon, as he well knew they were very strict about visitors incamp. "I am ever a welcome guest here, not only because they know I lovethem, but because of something I bring." She pointed to a great hamperof goodies packed in by the chauffeur.
The car was surrounded by eager and courteous
young aviators andsoldiers, and Kent and Judy well knew it was not all for the _gateaux_that the Marquise was so beloved. Philippe was summoned and clasped inhis mother's arms. Her heart cried out that every time might be thelast.
The Marquise was changed but her son even more so. His dilettantishmanner was gone for good, as was also his foppish beard. His face, cleanshaven except for a small moustache, was brown and lean; his mouth hadtaken on purpose; his eyes were no longer merely beautiful but now haddepth of expression and a look of pity, as though he had seen muchsorrow.
He was greatly pleased to see his cousin Kent and also Miss Kean, who,of course, he thought had gone back to America long ago. He rememberedJudy always as the young lady he came so near loving. Indeed, he wouldhave addressed her when Molly Brown had refused him, had he not beenmade to understand by his fair cousin how important it was to love withone's whole soul if married happiness was to be expected. He had, afterthat, gone very slowly in possible courtships. Molly's friend, FrancesAndrews, had almost been his choice, but there was something offineness lacking in her that deterred him in time, and he was in ameasure relieved when that dashing young woman proceeded to marry animpoverished Italian prince. His mother was relieved beyond measure atwhat she could not but look on as her Philippe's escape. In fact, shehad never seen but one girl she thought would be just right for herbeloved son and that was Molly Brown.
Philippe was told of Kent's being shipwrecked and of Judy's having takenup her abode with the Tricots. This last bit of information amused himgreatly. Judy told with much sprightliness of her serving in the shopand of her learning to make tarts. Philippe began to look upon hiscousin Kent as a very lucky dog. He sighed when he promised to come tothe wedding breakfast, that is, if he could get leave. Why did all ofthe charming American girls pass him by?
"_J'ai la France et ma mere_," he muttered, as his arm crept around thewaist of that beloved mother.
"What are they all looking at so intently?" asked Judy.
"Why, that is a daring young American aviator who has gone to seek someinformation concerning the trenches of our friends the enemy. He is astrange, quiet little fellow. No one ever gets a word out of him but hehas learned to manage his machine quicker than any of the nouveaux, andnow is intrusted to carry out all kinds of dangerous orders. He lookslike a boy sometimes and sometimes when he is tired, like a strangelittle old man. He is not very friendly but is quick at repartee and sothe fellows let him alone. Speaks French like a Parisian. I have seenhim before somewhere, but can't place him. I asked him once and he wasquite stiff and said I had the advantage of him. Of course I didn't liketo force myself on him after that, but I'd really like to be friendly ifhe would let me. See, here he comes! Look!"
They watched in silence the aeroplane sinking in a lovely spiral glide.As it sank to rest on the greensward, many hands were outstretched toassist the grotesque little figure to alight. Judy recognized in aninstant the person she had thought all the time Philippe was describing.It was, of course, Jo Bill Perkins. She was swathed in a dark leathercoat and breeches, with a strange shaped cap coming down over her ears.The great goggles she wore could not deceive Judy.
"What is his name?" she asked Philippe.
"Williams is all I know, J. Williams."
"I believe I know him. Would you mind taking him my card and asking himto come speak to me?"
"Not a bit, but I don't believe he will come. Let him make his reportfirst, and then I will tell him you are here. You are very charming andfetching, Mademoiselle, but I doubt your being able to bring Williams toyour feet."