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Updated: September 8, 2025
Suddenly in the street without there was the sound of many feet of horses and of men, the shouting of angry voices, the splashing of quick steps in the watery ways, the screams of women, the flash of steel through the gloom. Bernadou sprang to his feet, his face pale, his blue eyes dark as night. "They are come!" he said, under his breath.
And he had taken heed to her words, so that in all the country-side there was not any lad truer, gentler, braver, or more patient at labour than was Bernadou; and though some thought him mild even to foolishness, and meek even to stupidity, he was no fool; and he had a certain rough skill at music, and a rare gift at the culture of plants, and made his little home bright within the winter-time with melody, and in the summer gay without as a king's parterre.
If, after finishing the Short Stories and Selections, a few more students will have formed the habit of good reading and will feel, not merely willing, but eager, to enlarge their acquaintance among good books, this volume has accomplished its purpose. Bernadou clung to his home with a dogged devotion. He would not go from it to fight unless compelled, but for it he would have fought like a lion.
Madelon Dreux and her family recovered, owing to her their lives; and she was happier than before, thinking of them when she sat on the settle before the wood fire roasting chestnuts and spinning flax on the wheel, and ever and again watching the flame reflected on the fair head of Bernadou or in the dark, smiling eyes of Margot.
Nor were they less happy when in mid-April, in the six and twentieth year of his age, Bernadou had come in with a bunch of primroses in his hand, and had bent down to her and saluted her with a respectful tenderness, and said softly and a little shyly, "Gran'mere, would it suit you if I were ever to marry?"
The Winslow was the main target of the enemy, and was put out of service. The other American vessels were not damaged, except that the Hudson's two ventilators were slightly scratched by flying shrapnel. The Winslow was within 2,500 yards of the shore when the shells struck. How it came to be so close was told by its commander, Lieutenant John Bernadou.
It was twenty-five minutes before 3 o'clock when a four-inch shell struck the Winslow on the starboard beam, knocking out its forward boiler and starboard engine and crippling the steering gear, but no one was injured. Lieutenant Bernadou was standing forward watching the battle with calm interest and directing his men as coolly as if they were at target practice.
The little street at evening was mournful and very silent: the few who talked spoke in whispers, lest a spy should hear them, and the young ones had no strength to play: they wanted food. Bernadou, now that all means of defence was gone from him, and the only thing left to him to deal with was his own life, had become quiet and silent and passionless, as was his habit.
When the moment comes, then do as thine own heart and the whisper of God in it bid thee." A great sob answered her; it was the first since his earliest infancy that she had ever heard from Bernadou. It grew dark. The autumn day died. The sullen clouds dropped scattered rain. The red leaves were blown in millions by the wind.
Bernadou was very good to her. The lad, as she called him, was five and twenty years old, tall and straight and clean-limbed, with the blue eyes of the North, and a gentle, frank face. He worked early and late in the plot of ground that gave him his livelihood. He lived with his grandmother, and tended her with a gracious courtesy and veneration that never altered.
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