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Updated: June 19, 2025
"It is the innocent custom of the people," said Mr. The Englishman, with hesitation. "I think I should like to do it. No one sees." Careful not to wake Bebelle as he went, he repaired to the lodge where such little tokens of remembrance were sold, and bought two wreaths. One, blue and white and glistening silver, "To my friend;" one of a soberer red and black and yellow, "To my friend."
A railway train would come through at midnight, and by that train he would take away Bebelle to look for Theophile in England and at his forgiven daughter's. At midnight, on a moonlight night, Mr. The Englishman came creeping forth like a harmless assassin, with Bebelle on his breast instead of a dagger.
The Englishman stooped down and patted her cheek, not without awkwardness, as if he were going too far in his conciliation. "And what is this medal round your neck, my little one?" Bebelle having no other reply on her lips than her chubby right fist, the Corporal offered his services as interpreter. "Monsieur demands, what is this, Bebelle?" "It is the Holy Virgin," said Bebelle.
We will go and look for him at my daughter's, Bebelle." "Shall we find him there?" "We shall find the best part of him there. Come with me, poor forlorn little one. Heaven is my witness," said the Englishman, in a low voice, as, before he rose, he touched the turf above the gentle Corporal's breast, "that I thankfully accept this trust!" It was a long way for the child to have come unaided.
Opening her eyes, on which the tears were still wet, Bebelle was at first frightened; but seeing who it was, she suffered him to take her in his arms, looking steadfastly at him. "You must not lie here, my little one. You must come with me." "No, no. I can't leave Theophile. I want the good dear Theophile." "We will go and seek him, Bebelle. We will go and look for him in England.
"And who gave it you?" asked the Englishman. "Theophile." "And who is Theophile?" Bebelle broke into a laugh, laughed merrily and heartily, clapped her chubby hands, and beat her little feet on the stone pavement of the Place. "He doesn't know Theophile! Why, he doesn't know any one! He doesn't know anything!"
Truly he had found something on the Corporal's grave to know it by, and the something was Bebelle. With such a loving will had the dead soldier's comrades worked at his resting-place, that it was already a neat garden. On the green turf of the garden Bebelle lay sleeping, with her cheek touching it.
The Englishman took it very ill when he looked round a street corner into the Great Place, carrying Bebelle in his arms, that old Mutuel should be there airing his red ribbon. He took a world of pains to dodge the worthy Mutuel, and devoted a surprising amount of time and trouble to skulking into his own lodging like a man pursued by Justice.
A plain, unpainted little wooden Cross was planted in the turf, and her short arm embraced this little Cross, as it had many a time embraced the Corporal's neck. Mr. The Englishman took off his hat, and stood for a while silent. Then, covering his head again, he bent down on one knee, and softly roused the child. "Bebelle! My little one!"
Mr. The Englishman had but to look out of window, to look upon the Corporal with little Bebelle. He had but to go for a walk, and there was the Corporal walking with Bebelle. He had but to come home again, disgusted, and the Corporal and Bebelle were at home before him.
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