The Belgian Twins Read online

  VIII

  GRANNY AND THE EELS

  When the cathedral bells rang the next morning for early mass, thechildren were still sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. It was notuntil the bells had ceased to ring, and the door, opening from thesacristy near their resting place, creaked upon its hinges, that evenFidel was aroused. True to his watchdog instincts, he started to hisfeet with a low growl, letting the heads of Jan and Marie down upon thefloor with a sudden bump. For an instant the awakened children couldnot remember where they were or what had happened to them. They sat upand rubbed their heads, but the habit of fear was already so strongupon them that they made no sound and instantly quieted Fidel. Againthe door creaked, and through it there appeared a tall figure dressedin priestly robes. The children were so near that had they thrust theirhands through the railing of the communion bank behind which they wereconcealed, they might have touched him as he passed before the altar ofthe Virgin and presented himself in front of the high altar to conductthe mass. His head, as he passed them, was bowed. His face was pale andthin, and marked with lines of deep sorrow.

  "Oh," whispered Marie to Jan, "it must be the Cardinal himself. Mothertold me about him."

  The whisper made such a loud sound in the silence of the greatcathedral aisles that Jan was afraid to reply. For answer he only laidhis finger upon his lips and crept still farther back into the shadow.Fidel seemed to know that dogs were not allowed in church and that itwas necessary for him to be quiet, too, for he crawled back with thechildren into the sheltering darkness.

  There were only a few persons in the cathedral, and those few were nearthe door; so no one saw the children as they knelt with folded handsand bowed heads in their corner, reverently following the service asthe Cardinal ate the sacred wafer and drank the communion wine beforethe altar. Later they were to know his face as the bravest and bestbeloved in all Belgium next to those of the King and Queen themselves.

  When again he passed the kneeling little figures on his return to thesacristy, their lonely hearts so ached for care and protection, and hisface looked so kind and pitiful, that they almost dared to make theirpresence known and to ask for the help they sorely needed. Marie,bolder than Jan, half rose as he passed, but Jan pulled her back, andin another instant the door had closed behind him and he was gone.

  "Oh," sobbed Marie under her breath, "he looked so kind! He might havehelped us. Why did you pull me back?"

  "How could we let him see Fidel, and tell him that our dog had sleptall night before the altar?" answered Jan. "I shouldn't dare! He is agreat Prince of the Church!"

  The sound of scraping chairs told them that the little congregation hadrisen from its knees and was passing out of the church. They waiteduntil every one had disappeared through the great door, and then made aswift flight down the echoing aisle and out into the sunlight. For amoment they stood hand in hand upon the cathedral steps, clasping theirbundle and waiting for the next turn of fortune's wheel.

  The bright sunlight of the summer day, shining on the open square,almost blinded them, and what they saw in the square, when their eyeshad become used to it, did not comfort them. Everywhere there wereGerman soldiers with their terrible bayonets and pointed helmets andtheir terrible songs. Everywhere there were pale and desperate Belgiansfleeing before the arrogant German invader.

  "Oh, Jan," whispered Marie clinging to him, "there are so many people!How shall we ever find Mother? I didn't know there were so many peoplein the whole world."

  "It isn't likely that we'll find her by just standing here, anyway,"answered Jan. "We've got to keep going till we get somewhere."

  He slung the bundle on his shoulder and whistled to Fidel, who had gonedown the steps to bark at a homeless cat.

  "Come along," he said to Marie. And once more the little pilgrims tookup their journey. At the first corner they paused, not knowing whetherto go to the right or to the left.

  "Which way?" said Marie.

  Jan stood still and looked first in one direction and then in the other.

  "Here, gutter-snipes, what are you standing here for? Make way for yourbetters!" said a gruff voice behind them, and, turning, the childrenfound themselves face to face with a German officer dressed in aresplendent uniform and accompanied by a group of swaggering youngsoldiers. Too frightened to move, the children only looked up at himand did not stir.

  "Get out of the way, I tell you!" roared the officer, turning purplewith rage; "Orderly!" One of the young men sprang forward. He seizedJan by the arm and deftly kicked him into the gutter. Another at thesame moment laid his hands on Marie. But he reckoned without Fidel,faithful Fidel, who knew no difference between German and Belgian, butknew only that no cruel hand should touch his beloved Marie, while hewas there to defend her. With a fierce growl he sprang at the youngorderly and buried his teeth in his leg. Howling with pain, the orderlydropped Marie, while another soldier drew his sword with an oath andmade a thrust at Fidel. Fortunately Fidel was too quick for him. He letgo his hold upon the leg of the orderly, tearing a large hole in hisuniform as he did so, and flung himself directly between the legs ofthe other soldier who was lunging at him with the sword. The nextinstant the surprised German found himself sprawling upon the sidewalk,and saw Fidel, who had escaped without a scratch, dashing wildly up thestreet after Jan and Marie. Beside himself with rage, the soldier drewa revolver and fired a shot, which barely missed Fidel, and burieditself in the doorstep of the house past which he was running.

  If Jan and Marie had not turned a corner just at that moment, and ifFidel had not followed them, there is no telling what might havehappened next, for the young soldier was very angry indeed. Perhaps heconsidered it beneath his dignity to run after them, and perhaps he sawthat Jan and Marie could both run like the wind and he would not belikely to catch them if he did. At any rate, he did not follow. Hepicked himself up and dusted his clothes, using very bad language as hedid so, and followed the officer and his companions up the street.

  Meanwhile the tired children ran on and on, fear lending speed to theirweary legs. Round behind the great cathedral they sped, hoping to findsome way of escape from the terrors of the town, but their way wasblocked by the smoking ruins of a section of the city which the Germanshad burned in the night, and there was no way to get out in thatdirection. Terrified and faint with hunger, they turned once more, and,not knowing where they were going, stumbled at last upon the streetwhich led to the Antwerp gate.

  "I remember this place;" cried Jan, with something like joy in hisvoice. "Don't you remember, Marie? It's where we stood to watch thesoldiers, and Mother sang for us to march, because we were so tired andhungry."

  "I'm tired and hungry now, too," said poor Marie.

  "Let's march again," said Jan.

  "Where to?" said Marie.

  "That's the way Father went when he marched away with the soldiers,"said Jan, pointing to the Antwerp gate. "Anything is better thanstaying here. Let's go that way." He started bravely forward once more,Marie and Fidel following.

  They found themselves only two wretched atoms in one of the saddestprocessions in history, for there were many other people, as unhappy asthemselves, who were also trying to escape from the city. Some hadlived in the section which was now burning; others had been turned outof their homes by the Germans; and all were hastening along, carryingbabies and bundles, and followed by groups of older children.

  Jan and Marie were swept along with the hurrying crowd, through thecity gate and beyond, along the river road which led to Antwerp. No onespoke to them. Doubtless they were supposed to belong to some one ofthe fleeing families, and it was at least comforting to the children tobe near people of whom they were not afraid. But Jan and Marie couldnot keep pace with the swift-moving crowd of refugees. They trudgedalong the highway at their best speed, only to find themselvesstraggling farther and farther behind.

  They were half a mile or more beyond the city gate when they overtook aqueer little old woman who was plodding steadily along wheeling a
wheelbarrow, in front of her. She evidently did not belong among therefugees, for she was making no effort to keep up with them. She hadbright, twinkling black eyes, and snow-white hair tucked under asnow-white cap. Her face was as brown as a nut and full of wrinkles,but it shone with such kindness and good-will that, when Jan and Mariehad taken one look at her, they could not help walking along by herside.

  "Maybe she has seen Mother," whispered Marie to Jan. "Let's ask her!"

  The little old woman smiled down at them as they joined her. "You'llhave to hurry, my dears, or you won't keep up with your folks," shesaid kindly.

  "They aren't our folks," said Jan.

  "They aren't?" said the little old woman, stopping short. "Then whereare your folks?"

  "We haven't any, not just now," said Jan. "You see our father is asoldier, and our mother, oh, have you seen our mother? She's lost!"

  The little old woman gave them a quick, pitying glance. "Lost, is she?"she said. "Well, now, I can't just be sure whether I've seen her ornot, not knowing what she looks like, but I wouldn't say I haven't.Lots of folks have passed this way. How did she get lost?" She sat downon the edge of the barrow and drew the children to her side. "Come,now," she said, "tell Granny all about it! I've seen more trouble thanany one you ever saw in all your life before, and I'm not a mite afraidof it either."

  Comforted already, the children poured forth their story.

  "You poor little lambs!" she cried, when they had finished, "and youhaven't had a bite to eat since yesterday! Mercy on us! You can neverfind your mother on an empty stomach!" She rose from the wheelbarrow,as she spoke, and trundled it swiftly from the road to the bank of theriver, a short distance away. Here, in a sheltered nook, hidden fromthe highway by a group of willows, she stopped. "We'll camp right here,and I'll get you a dinner fit for a king or a duke, at the very least,"she said cheerily. "Look what I have in my wheelbarrow!" She took abasket from the top of it as she spoke.

  Fidel was already looking in, with his tail standing straight outbehind, his ears pointed forward, and the hairs bristling on the backof his neck. There, on some clean white sand in the bottom of thewheelbarrow, wriggled a fine fat eel!

  "Now I know why I didn't sell that eel," cried Granny. "There's alwaysa reason for everything, you see, my darlings."

  She seized the eel with a firm, well-sanded hand as she spoke, andbefore could spell your name backwards, she had skinned and dressed it,and had given the remnants to poor hungry Fidel. "Now, my boy," shesaid gayly to Jan as she worked, "you get together some twigs and deadleaves, and you, Big Eyes," she added to Marie, "find some stones bythe river, and we'll soon have such a stove as you never saw before,and a fire in it, and a bit of fried eel, to fill your hungry stomachs."

  Immensely cheered, the children flew on these errands. Then Marie had abright thought. "We have some potatoes in our bundle," she said.

  "Well, now," cried the little old woman, "wouldn't you think they hadjust followed up that eel on purpose? We'll put them to roast in theashes. I always carry a pan and a bit of fat and some matches aboutwith me when I take my eels to market," she explained as she whiskedthese things out of the basket, "and it often happens that I cookmyself a bite to eat on my way home, especially if I'm late. You see, Ilive a long way from here, just across the river from Boom, and I'mgetting lazy in my old age. Early every morning I walk to Malines withmy barrow full of fine eels, and sell them to the people of the town.That's how I happen to be so rich!"

  "Are you rich?" asked Marie wonderingly.

  She had brought the stones from the river, and now she untied herbundle and took out the potatoes. Jan had already heaped a little moundof sticks and twigs near by, and soon the potatoes were cooking in theashes, and a most appetizing smell of frying eel filled the air.

  "Am I rich?" repeated the old woman. She looked surprised that any onecould ask such a question. "Of course I'm rich. Haven't I got two eyesin my head, and a tongue, too, and it's lucky, indeed, that it's thatway about, for if I had but one eye and two tongues, you see foryourself how much less handy that would be! And I've two legs as goodas any one's, and two hands to help myself with! The Kaiser himself hasno more legs and arms than I, and I doubt if he can use them half aswell. Neither has he a stomach the more! And as for his heart" shelooked cautiously around as she spoke "his heart, I'll be bound, is nothalf so good as mine! If it were, he could not find it in it to do allthe cruel things he's doing here. I'm sure of that."

  For a moment the cheerfulness of her face clouded over; but she saw theshadow reflected in the faces of Jan and Marie, and at once spoke moregayly. "Bless you, yes, I'm rich," she went on; "and so are you! You'vegot all the things that I have and more, too, for you legs and arms areyoung, and you have a mother to look for. Not every one has that, youmay depend! And one of these days you'll find her. Make no doubt ofthat."

  "If we don't, she'll surely find us, anyway," said Jan. "She said shewould!"

  "Indeed and she will," said the old woman. "Even the Germans couldn'tstop her; so what matter is it, if you both have to look a bit first?It will only make it the better when you find each other again."

  When the potatoes were done, the little old woman raked them out of theashes with a stick, broke them open, sprinkled a bit of salt on themfrom the wonderful basket, and then handed one to each of the children,wrapped in a plantain leaf, so they should not burn their fingers. Apiece of the eel was served to them in the same way, and Granny beamedwith satisfaction as she watched her famished guests.

  "Aren't you going to eat, too?" asked Marie with her mouth full.

  "Bless you, yes," said Granny. "Every chance I get. You just watch me!"She made a great show of taking a piece of the eel as she spoke, but ifany one had been watching carefully, they would have her slyly put itback again into the pan, and the children never knew that they ate hershare and their own, too.

  When they had eaten every scrap of the eel, and Fidel had finished thebones, the little old woman rose briskly from the bank, washed her panin the river, packed it in her basket again, and led the way up thepath to the highway once more. Although they found the road stillfilled with the flying refugees, the world had grown suddenly brighterto Jan and Marie. They had found a friend and they were fed.

  "Now, you come along home with your Granny," said the little old womanas they reached the Antwerp road and turned northward, "for I live in alittle house by the river right on the way to wherever you want to go!"