The Girl from Alsace: A Romance of the Great War, Originally Published under the Title of Little ComradeStevenson, Burton Egbert
History
The Girl from Alsace: A Romance of the Great War, Originally Published under the Title of Little Comrade
Stevenson, Burton Egbert
Alsace (France) -- Fiction; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
"Madam," spoke up the bearded stranger by the window, in a deep voice
which made everybody jump, "I will tell you what the men are doing--they
are in the army, preparing themselves for the defense of their
fatherland. Do you think it is of choice they leave the harvesting and
street-cleaning and carrying of burdens to their mothers and wives and
sisters? No; it is because for them is reserved a greater task--the task
of confronting the revengeful hate of France, the envious hate of
England, the cruel hate of Russia. That is their task to-day, madam, and
they accept it with light hearts, confident of victory!"
There was a moment's silence. Mrs. Field was the first to find her
voice.
"All the same," she said, "that does not justify the use of cows as
draft animals!"
The German stared at her an instant in astonishment, then turned away to
the window with a gesture of contempt, as of one who refuses to argue
with lunatics, and paid no further heed to the Americans.
With them, the conversation turned from war, which none of them really
believed would come, to home, for which they were all longing. Home,
Stewart told himself, means everything to middle-aged women of fixed
habits. It was astonishing that they should tear themselves away from
it, even for a tour of Europe, for to them travel meant martyrdom. Home!
How their eyes brightened as they spoke the word! They were going
through to Brussels, then to Ostend, after a look at Ghent and Bruges,
and so to England and their boat.
"I intend to spend the afternoon at Aix-la-Chapelle," said Stewart, "and
go on to Brussels to-night or in the morning. Perhaps I shall see you
there."
Miss Field mentioned the hotel at which the party would stop.
"What is there at Aix-la-Chapelle?" she asked. "I suppose I ought to
know, but I don't."
"There's a cathedral, with the tomb of Charlemagne, and his throne, and
a lot of other relics. I was always impressed by Charlemagne. He was the
real thing in the way of emperors."
"I should like to see his tomb," said Miss Field. "Why can't we stop at
Aix-la-Chapelle, mother?"
But Mrs. Field shook her head.
"We will get out of Germany as quickly as we can," she said, and the
other members of the party nodded their hearty agreement.
Meanwhile the train rolled steadily on through a beautiful and peaceful
country, where war seemed incredible and undreamed of. White villas
dotted the thickly-wooded hillsides; quaint villages huddled in the
valleys. And finally the train crossed a long viaduct and rumbled into
the station at Aix-la-Chapelle.
The platform was deserted, save for a few guards and porters. Stewart
opened the door and was about to step out, when a guard waved him
violently back. Looking forward, he saw that the soldiers were
detraining.
"Good!" he said. "You can get your old seats again!" and, catching the
eye of the guard, gave him a nod which promised a liberal tip.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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