The Girl from Alsace Part 36

She opened her eyes and looked dazedly up at him.

"_Qu'y a-t-il?_" she murmured. Then her vision cleared. "What is the matter?" she asked in a stronger voice.

"You've been hit," he panted. "Do you feel pain?"

She closed her eyes for an instant.

"No," she answered; "but my left leg is numb, as if----"

"Pray heaven it is only in the leg! I must get you somewhere out of this." He raised his head to look around, and was suddenly conscious of the banging guns. "d.a.m.n these lunatics! Oh, d.a.m.n them!"

The ridges on either side were rimmed with fire. He cast a glance behind him and his heart stood still, for a troop of cavalry was deploying into the road. Forward, then, to the village, since that was the only way.

He stooped to lift her.

"I may hurt you a little," he said.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to carry you to the village. Here, wave your handkerchief to show them that we are friends," and he drew it from her pocket and thrust it into her hand. "Now, your arm about my neck."

She obeyed mutely; then, as he straightened up, she saw, over his shoulder, the cavalry forming for the charge.

"No, no!" she cried. "Put me down. Here are the letters! See, I am placing them in your pocket! Now, put me down and save yourself!"

He was picking his way forward over the barbed wire. He dared not lift his eyes from the road even for a glance at her.

"Be still!" he commanded. "Don't struggle so! I will not put you down!

Wave the handkerchief!"

"There is cavalry down yonder," she protested, wildly. "It will charge in a moment!"

"I know it! That's one reason I will not put you down!"

He was past the wire; he could look at her for an instant--into her eyes, so close to his; deep into her eyes, dark with fear and pain.

"Another reason is," he said, deliberately, "that I love you! I am telling you now because I want you to know, if this should be the end! I love you, love you, love you!"

He was forced to look away from her, for there were fallen trees in front, but he felt the arm around his neck tighten.

And then he bent his head and kissed her.

"Like that!" he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "Only a thousand times more than that--a million times more than that!"

She pulled herself up until her cheek was pressed to his; and her eyes were like twin stars.

"And I!" she whispered. "A million times more than that. Oh, my prince, my lover!"

Stewart's veins ran fire. His fatigue dropped from him. He trod on air.

He threw back his head proudly, for he felt himself invincible. He was contemptuous of fate--it could not harm him now!

"And yet you wanted me to put you down!" he mocked.

She snuggled against him, warm and womanly; she gave herself to him.

"Oh, hold me close!" she seemed to say. "Hold me close, close! I am yours now!"

"Wave the handkerchief!" he added. "We're getting near the barricade.

Life is too sweet to end just yet!"

She smiled up into his eyes, and waved the handkerchief at arm's length above their heads. Stewart, glancing up, saw a row of faces crowned by queer black shakos peering curiously down from the top of the barricade.

"They have seen us!" he said. "They're not firing! They understand that we are friends! Courage, little comrade!"

"I am not afraid," she smiled. "And I love that name--little comrade!"

"Here are the last entanglements--and then we're through. What is that cavalry doing?"

She gave a little cry as she looked back along the road. At the same instant, Stewart heard the thunder of galloping hoofs.

"They are coming!" she screamed. "Oh, put me down! Put me down!"

"Not I!" gasped Stewart between his teeth, and glanced over his shoulder.

The Uhlans were charging in solid ma.s.s, their lances couched.

There was just one chance of escape--Stewart saw it instantly. Holding the girl close, he leaped into the ditch beside the road and threw himself flat against the ground, s.h.i.+elding her with his body.

In an instant the thunder of the charge was upon him. Then, high above the rattle of guns, rose the shouts of men, the screams of horses, the savage shock of the encounter. Something rolled upon him,--lay quivering against him--a wounded man--a dead one, perhaps--in any event, he told himself, grimly, so much added protection. Pray heaven that a maddened horse did not tramp them down!

The tumult died, the firing slackened. What was that? A burst of cheering?

Stewart ventured to raise his head and look about him; then, with a gasp, he threw off the weight, caught up his companion and staggered to his feet. Yes; it was a body which had fallen upon him. It rolled slowly over on its back as he arose, and he saw a ghastly wound between the eyes.

"They have been repulsed!" he panted. "Wave the handkerchief!" With his heart straining in his throat, he clambered out of the ditch and staggered on. "Don't look!" he added, for the road was strewn with horrors. "Don't look!"

She gazed up at him, smiling calmly.

"I shall look only at you, my lover!" she said, softly, and Stewart tightened his grip and held her close!

There was the barricade, with cheering men atop it, exposing themselves with utter recklessness to the bullets which still whistled from right and left. Stewart felt his knees trembling. Could he reach it? Could he lift his foot over this entanglement? Could he possibly step across this body?

Suddenly he felt his burden lifted from him and a strong arm thrown about his shoulders.

"Friends!" he gasped. "We're friends!"

Then he heard the girl's clear voice speaking in rapid French, and men's voices answering eagerly. The mist cleared a little from before his eyes, and he found that the arm about his shoulders belonged to a stocky Belgian soldier who was leading him past one end of the barricade, close behind another who bore the girl in his arms.

At the other side an officer stopped them.