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And always in the clear glass of the stream she seemed to see the smiling face of her friend, Djack her lover who had opened her eyes of a child to all things beautiful in the world. Once or twice, from very far away, she fancied she heard the distant singing of the negro muleteers sunning themselves down by the corral.
As she came past Smith and Glenn, trailing her hoe, the latter now sufficiently proficient in French, said gaily: "Have you heard from Jack again, Mamzelle Maryette?" The girl blushed: "I hear from Djack by every mail," she said, with all the transparent honesty that characterized her. Smith grinned: "Just like that!
The big gendarme scratched his chin; then, with an odd glance at the young airman who stood beside him: "To lose a friend is indeed sadder than to lose a lover. What was your friend’s name, little one?" She pressed her hand to her forehead in an effort to search among her partly paralyzed thoughts: "Djack.... That is his name.... He was the first real friend I ever had."
I don’t know; I thought it was friendship. And that was so wonderful to me that I never dreamed any other miracle possible! Allons, my Djack. Come and instruct me quickly, because my desire for further knowledge is very ardent. The news? Cher ami, there is little.
Ah, my Djack, it belongs more rightly to you, who would not let me go alone to Nivelle that dreadful day. Why do they not give you the cross? They must be very stupid in Paris. All day my happy thoughts have been with you, my Djack. It all seems a blessed dream that we love each other. And I oh, how could I have been so ignorant, so silly, not to know it sooner than I did!
My gardener, Karl, collected many unpleasant creatures while hoeing our potatoes. Poor lad, he seems unhealthy. I am glad I could offer him employment. My Djack, there could not possibly be any mistake about him, could there? His papers are en règle. He is what he pretends, a Belgian student from Ypres in distress and ill health, is he not?
Very white, the chill sweat standing on his forehead and under his eyes, he stood against the oak, lips compressed, grey eyes watching what was happening to him. Suddenly he understood it was all over. "Djack!" He turned his gaze toward Maryette, where she struggled toward him, held by two soldiers. "Maryette Carillonnette " His voice suddenly became steady, perfectly clear.
Was that why you came after me?" "Wee." "Thank you, Djack." She leaned a trifle forward in the cart, her dimpled elbows on her knees, the reins sagging. Blue and rosy jays flew up before them, fluttering away through the thickets; a bullfinch whistled sweetly from a thorn bush, watching them pass under him, unafraid. "You see," she said, half to herself, "I had to come.
"You might have reason to, Monsieur," retorted the girl demurely. "But you see it’s Djack who is convalescing, not you." She had become accustomed to the ceaseless banter of Burley’s two comrades a banter entirely American, and which at first she was unable to understand. But now all things American, including accent and odd, perverted humour, had become very dear to her.
Among children it is different; I had known boys as one knows them at school. But a man, never and, indeed, I had not thought I had grown up until he came Djack to live at our inn.... The White Doe at Sainte Lesse, monsieur. My father keeps it." "I see," nodded the airman gravely. "Yes that is the way. He came my first friend, Djack with mules from America, monsieur one thousand mules.
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