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Show and I I couldn't see It so I closed my eyes and prayed. I waited until I could bear It no longer and then I looked back. Pierre stood on the balcony with Elise in his arms. She had fainted. . . ." "Yesl" I prompted gently for Madame Dupon was silent. "I don't know how long it lasted. It seemed an eternity. The flames were eating at the walls behind them and now and then a tongue licked at them through the doorway. Pierre could not jump with Elise In his arms; he could not leave her there to die alone; he was distraught. He gazed down at little Jacques and I thought he was coming. But to tear himself from his wife to give her to the fire no it was impossible! He clasped her close to him and buried his face in her hair. That was all that I saw." The expression was gone from her voice when she continued the story in . a droning monotone. "I don't remember remem-ber much after that. 5 know that all of us who had lived there walked anc" i f Western Newspaper Union &VmM&&fflM&&3i BELGIUM SKETCHES TREASURE By Katharine Eggleston Roberts. ' .CopyriEht. 1920. Western Newspaper Union) He was a very little Belgian whose round blue eyes stared from a face too thin and white. There among the ruins he was digging. He paused and regarded me curiously as I stepped over the crumbling remainder of what once had been the wall of the house. "For what are you searching?" I asked. - "Treasures. You find them lots of times nil sorts of things. It's fun to dig." He smiled genially and picked up his converted pick, a sharpened piece of iron with a cross-bar near the top. "I found this over there where there used to be a cemetery." He began be-gan to dig again in his "sand pile." "Where is your home?" 1 wondered aloud. He waved a free hand at the walls. "Here. If you want to see my grandmother grand-mother she's over there," and he pointed point-ed more definitely toward the back of the house. Apparently our Interview was closed. I went through a little passage, cleared among the 'fallen masonry, past a space where moss grew over the debris of a parlor. To my knock at the half-open door a tired voice answered : "Come in." It was the voice of an old woman who sat knitting In a low straight chair. She carefully pushed the yarn to the back of her needles, adjusted her worn, black shawl and, with the painful pain-ful stiffness of age, came to meet me. "Coffee?" she asked and motioned me to a round red-and-white-clothed table near the window. As she moved about preparing the coffee there was something dimly familiar fa-miliar about her. "A long time ago I knew some people here in this town." I remarked : "What has become of Madame Dupon?" The woman came over quickly and peered Into my face. "You oh, let me think so much of the past is blotted out. You are " and then Madame Dupon remembered me. I sipped my coffee and watched her old fingers make the needles fly. "Yes, we were 'here during the war." She glanced out of the window at the little boy. "Jacques and I went through It together. This Is what is left." Her nod Indicated the loose brick walls and the scanty collection of furniture some old chairs, an oak cupboard, the table, and, In the further fur-ther corner, a narrow bed. "My daughter daugh-ter had a fine home here but it's all gone. Everything is gone now but Jacques." She sighed. "It is all so terrible everywhere about here. When did the Germans reach this town?" I didn't know how to express the sympathy I felt. Words seemed so useless. "They came the twentieth of October. Octo-ber. When we heard they were coming com-ing we shut ourselves In our homes. My daughter and her husband and Jacques and I were hiding there In the cellar when the Germans set fire to our house. We ran upstairs and I hurried to take Jacques outdoors, but Pierre and Elise did not follow." As she stopped talking and looked back over the five hard years, the lines deepened and drew about her mouth. She caught her breath. "No they didn't follow," she repeated sadly. "Suddenly "Sudden-ly I saw them on the balcony outside their room on the second floor. They had gone to try to save some things and the fire had trapped them. "There they stood, and through the door behind them flared the leaping flames. The timbers cracked and snapped in the house and the walls began be-gan to sway. Jacques clung to me and cried for his mother. Poor little fellow, fel-low, he didn't even know why he was so frightened. Thank God he was too young to know what was happening. Pierre called that they were going to jump It was the only chance. He lifted lift-ed Elise to lower her over the railing The Old "uoffee" Woman. walked. Some dropped on the road, and when the Germans couldn't make them get up, they kicked them aside and we went on. 1 had to carry Jacques Jac-ques and he grew very heavy. Finally, Final-ly, when I could go no further, I lay down at the side of the way and cuddled cud-dled Jacques under me so that they wouldn't see him and take him from me." "Oh. look 1 Look I" Jacques came running Into the room just as she finished fin-ished speaking. His yellow curls were touseled, his blue eyes shining with excitement, "See "what I've found look!" He shouted and held a dirty hand out toward his grandmother. "It was muddy but I rubbed It and It shines !" The old woman turned the dull gold ring over and over. "Don't you like It?" Jacques' lips quivered with disappointment. "Like it, like it? Yes hoy, yes Oh yes. Where did you find it?" "Out there with some little white stone-things in the ground. Isn't It nice?" "There's another one there like it." Your father wore one too. See If you can find it, won't you, Jacques?" the old woman begged the child, "another just like it." "Another!" he cried, turning to me and the laughter danced In his face. "I told you I'd find my treasure!" he boasted and skipped out Into the sunlight sun-light The eyes of the old woman clung to her daughter's ring, but they were dry, tragically dry, for she had not more tears. "Yes," she murmured, "yei Jacques has found his treasure." |