Part 23

We hardly heard Sister Gabrielle when she came in and put down the steaming soup before us. The delicate perfume of the vegetables made our mouths water. For many days past we had had nothing to eat but our rations of tinned meat, and all that time we had not been able to light a fire to cook anything at all. So we fell to eagerly upon our well-filled plates. B. even lost the power of speech for the moment.

Meanwhile the pretty little Sister, without appearing to look at us, was cutting bread, and then she brought a jug of golden beer. What a treat it was! Why couldn't it be like this every day? In that case the campaign would have seemed almost like a picnic. Whilst I was eating I could not help admiring Sister Gabrielle; she looked so refined in her modest black clothes. Her slightest movements were as harmonious as those of an actress on the stage. But she was natural in all she did, and the grace of every movement was instinctive. As she placed before us an imposing-looking omelette au lard, that rascal B., who had already swallowed two plates of soup and four large glasses of beer, began to maunder thus:

"Sister Gabrielle, ... Sister Gabrielle, I don't want to go away to-morrow. I want to end my days here with the old people you look after. Look at me. I am getting old too, and have been severely tried by life. Why shouldn't I stay where I am? I should have a nice little bed in the old people's dormitory, with nice white sheets, go to bed every evening on the stroke of eight, and you, Sister, would come and tuck me up. I should sleep, and eat cabbage soup, and drink good beer--your health. Sister!--and I shouldn't think any more about anything at all.... How nice it would be! No more uniform to strap you up after a good dinner; no more shako to squeeze your temples; no more bullets whistling past you; no more 'coal-boxes' to upset your whole system, and every evening a bed, ... a nice bed, ... and to think about nothing!..."

"Hush! Listen," said Sister Gabrielle with a finger on her lips.

At that moment the noise of the firing became louder. The Germans had no doubt just made a night attack either on Bixschoote or on Steenstraate, and now every piece was firing rapidly all along the line. So fast did the reports follow one another that they sounded like a continuous growl. However, the noise seemed to be dominated by the reports that came from a battery of heavy guns ("long 120's") two kilometres from Elverdinghe, which made all the windows of the convent rattle, I shuddered as I thought of those thousands of shells, hurtling through the darkness for miles to reduce so many living human beings to poor broken and bleeding things. And I pictured to myself our Prussians of Bixschoote sprawling on the ground, with their teeth set and their heads hidden among the beetroot, waiting until the hurricane had passed, to get up again and rush forward with their bayonets, cheering! Sister Gabrielle had the same thought, no doubt. She looked still whiter than before under her white coif, and clasping her hands and lowering her eyes, she said in a low voice:

"Mon Dieu, ... Mon Dieu! ... It is horrible!"

"Sister Gabrielle," continued the incorrigible B., "don't let us talk of such things. Let us rather discuss this omelette, a dish worthy of the gods, and the bacon in it, the savour of which might imperil a saint. Sister Gabrielle, you tempt us this evening to commit the sin of gluttony, which is the most venial of all sins. And I will bear the burden of it manfully."

I kicked B. under the table, to stop his incongruous remarks. But Sister Gabrielle seemed not to have listened to him. She went on serving us smilingly; changed our plates, and brought us ham and cheese. B. went on devouring everything that was put before him; but this did not put a stop to his divagations.

"Tell me, Sister Gabrielle, you are not going to turn us out of the house now, are you? It would be an offence against God, who commands us to pity travellers. And we are poor wretched travellers. If you drive us away, we shall have to sleep on the grass by the roadside, with stones for our pillows. No, you couldn't treat us so cruelly. I feel sure that in a few minutes you will show me the bed in the dormitory you will keep for me when I come to take up my quarters with you after the war."

Sister Gabrielle's smile had disappeared. For the first time, she seemed really distressed. She stopped in front of B., and looked at him with her large clear eyes. She made the same gesture as before; lifted up both her hands, in token of powerlessness, and seemed to be thinking how she could avoid hurting our feelings. Then she said, in a disheartened tone:

"But we have not a single spare bed."

A long silence followed this sentence, which seemed to plunge B. into despair. The guns continued their ominous booming, making the windows rattle terribly. I too thought now that it would be dreadful to leave the house, go and look for our troops in the dark, and put our men to the inconvenience of making room for us on their straw, so I too looked at Sister Gabrielle imploringly. All at once she seemed to have decided what to do. She began by opening one of the cupboards in the wall, took out of it two small glasses with long tapering stems, and placed them before us, with a goodly bottle of Hollands. She had recovered her exquisite smile, and she hurried, for she seemed anxious to put her idea into execution.

"There, drink. It's good Hollands, ... and we give it to our poor old people on festivals."

"Thank you. Sister, thank you."

But she had already run out of the room, and we were left there, happy enough, sipping our glass of Hollands, and enjoying the luxurious peace that surrounded us. The guns seemed to be further off; we only heard a distant growling in the direction of Ypres. Our eyelids began to droop, and it was almost a pleasure to feel the weariness of our limbs and heads, for now we felt sure that Sister Gabrielle would not send us away.

She came back into the room, with a candle in her hand.

"Come," she said.

She was now quite rosy, and seemed ashamed, as though she were committing a fault. We followed her, enchanted, and went back through the kitchen, now dark and deserted. The flickering light of the candle was reflected here and there on the curves of the copper pots and glass bowls. The house was sleeping. We crossed the hall, and went up a broad wooden staircase, polished and shining.

What a strange party we were, the youthful Sister, going in front, treading so softly, and we two soldiers, dusty, tattered and squalid, trying to make as little noise as possible with our heavy hobnailed boots! The nun's rosary clinked at each step against a bundle of keys that hung from her girdle.

I was walking last and enjoying the curious picture. The light fell only on Sister Gabrielle. As she turned on the landing, the feeble ray from below threw her delicate features into relief: her fine nose, her childish mouth, with its constant smile; our own shadows appeared upon the wall in fantastic shapes. Certainly we had never yet received so strange and unexpected a welcome.

We passed a high oak door, surmounted by a cross and a pediment with a Latin inscription. Sister Gabrielle crossed herself and bowed her head.

"The chapel," she said in a low voice.

And she went quickly on to the accompaniment of her clinking rosary and keys. As we began to go up the second flight of stairs B. resumed his monologue in a whisper:

"Sister Gabrielle, ... Sister Gabrielle, you are an angel from Paradise. Surely God can refuse you nothing. You will pray for me this evening, won't you? for I am a great sinner."

"Oh, yes, of course I shall pray for you," she answered, softly, as she turned towards us.

We came out on a long passage, bare and whitewashed. Half a dozen doors could be distinguished at regular intervals, all alike. Sister Gabrielle opened one of them, and we followed her in. We found ourselves in a small room, austerely furnished with two little iron bedsteads, two little deal tables, and two rush chairs. Above each bed there was a crucifix, with a branch of box attached to it. Each table had a tiny white basin and a tiny water-jug. All this was very nice, and amply sufficient for us. Everything was clean, bright, and polished.

"Thank you, Sister; we shall be as comfortable as possible. But, one thing, we shall sleep like tops. Will there be any one to wake us?"

"At what time do you want to get up?"