Guardian and ward -- Fiction; New Haven (Conn.) -- Fiction
There was nothing really useful I could do that night, not even sleep.
In those days, it was impossible to move anywhere on the railroads of
France without the proper passes and registrations of intention with the
military authorities and the local police. I could, of course,
suffer--that is always a human possibility--and I could attempt, muzzily
enough, to think, to make plans. Where was it most likely that Susan
would be? Was the hospital room that I had seen in Dunkirk, or in Nice,
or at some point between--perhaps at Paris? It could hardly, I decided,
be at Dunkirk; that stricken city, whose inhabitants were forced to dive
like rats into burrows at any hour of the day or night. There was
nothing to suggest the atmosphere of Dunkirk in that quiet,
white-enamelled room. Nice, then--or Mentone? Hardly, I again reasoned;
for Jimmy could not easily have reached them there. A day's leave; a
flight from the lines, so comfortlessly close to Paris--that was always
possible to the air-men, who were in a sense privileged characters,
being for the most part strung with taut nerves that chafed and snapped
under too strict a discipline. And in Paris there must be many such
quiet, white-enamelled rooms. I decided for Paris.
Then I threw five or six articles and a bar of chocolate into my
_musette_, a small water-proof pouch to sling over the shoulder--three
years had taught me at least the needlessness of almost all Hillhouse
necessities--and waited for dawn. It came, as all dawns come at
last--even in January, even in France. And with it came a gulp of black
coffee in the little deserted café down-stairs--and a telegram. I dared
not open the telegram. It lay beside my plate while I stained the cloth
before me and scalded my throat and furred my tongue. It was from Paris.
So my decision was justified, and now quite worthless.... I have no
memory of the interval; but I had got with it somehow back to my
room--that accursed blue envelope! Well----
"Susan at Red Cross hospital for civilians,
Neuilly. All in, but no cause for real worry. Is
sleeping now for first time in nearly a week. I
must leave by afternoon. Come up to her if you
possibly can. She needs you.
"JIMMY."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account