West High School - Senior Occident Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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133 THE OCCI DENT stopped short, and then turned to Mrs. Yanderrock crying, “O! Madame, what shall I do? I am alone and without money—Jean!—Father!” She burst into sobs and clung to Mrs. Vandcrrock. “Never mind, my dear,” Mrs. Vander- rock said, “you shall be safe with me. Now I will call the stewardess to help you back to your place, but come again to-morrow. In the meantime, I shall plan something for you ' II. In New York, Marie acted as gover- ness to Mrs. Vanderrock’s children. A long, long year had passed; no news of Jean had reached her although she had tried to communicate with him and friends in Belgium. During all those months she had suffered dreadfully. Al- though she was sent to school, she made no friends for she was timid in attempt- ing to speak English. Moreover, her re- served manner, due greatly to her deep sorrow did not invite friendship. She often sought the seclusion of a classroom after school hours to dream of home and Jean, often crying over their misfortune. She worked hard in her spare time, with Mrs. Vanderrock’s children; so she had no time for recreation. More lonely than ever, Marie was wandering slowly home after an especial- ly hard day at school when, glancing down, she saw a coin in the snow. Trembling she picked it up. It was the first time she had had any money since she and Jean had been parted. Mrs. Vanderrock had given her a home and schooling, but no money. She was won- dering how to use it when she turned and saw that she was in front of a mov- ing picture theatre. She decided to go in, for she was cold and unusually de- pressed. Marie had never been in an American theatre. She selected a seat in the front. By chance she sat down next to a young man who took no interest in the pictures. He was settled comfortably and was looking about when he noticed Marie coming in. He was struck by her beauty. She, however, was not even aware of his presence,, for this was a novelty to her. He studied her profile, noticing her piquant nose and heavy, dark lashes; her olive skin and her drooping mouth. Marie was interested in spite of her- self, in the pictures, smiling or sighing at intervals. She was enjoying herself thus when a war film was thrown upon the screen. She took a passer's interest in it at first, but suddenly she sat up. Could it be he?—It was he' “Mon Dieu,” she criea, “ tis Jean1 She started forward but then sank back when she felt the futility of her move. Her eyes widened as she saw Jean step forward from the line of soldiers, remove his cap, and proudly re- ceive the badge of merit which was pinned to his coat. Marie clasped her hands, watching the movements with all the pride and admiration of a mother. Too soon, he stepped back into line and another picture was being shown. Marie relaxed, weeping quietly as her longing for Jean came upon her, more urgent than ever. “Mon fiere, she sobbed, “je suis navree.” The young fellow beside her noticed her starts and wondered at them. He finally decided that one of the French soldiers was her lover. Presently he arose and went out. But once outside, the beautiful, sad, face of the girl re- curred in his mind and her piteous crys sounded in his ears. He determined to go back to watch her. She didn’t even know he was there, he argued. So he went in again taking a seat beside her. As he sat there he tried to recall where he had seen such a girl. Suddenly he realized that it was this same girl! He had seen her at Mrs. Vanderrock’s when he had driven his mother there to call. Again, the war picture was before them. Marie had waited, regardless of

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132 THE OCCIDENT THE REFUGEE By Fanny Thomas “Jean, all Jean !” Marie cried when she found herself separated from her brother in the great crowd of Belgian refugees who were trying to board the ship that September night in the memorable year of 1914. She struggled to free herself, but she could not turn back. The mob swept her on, across the gang-plank, on to the boat. She tried to force her way against the steady stream of people hoarding the vessel. Suddenly she real- ized the futility of her efforts for the gang-plank was taken in and the ship was in motion. Terror seized her! She ran to the railing. In agony, she stretched out her arms in longing for Jean and her native land, but the space between them continued to widen. She stood for a time as though in a trance, her mind’s eye picturing Jean pressed into service, suffering in the trenches,— possibly—but no it could not be! In a frenzy, she ran her twitching fingers through her hair. The girl had been compelled to go as a steerage passenger for lack of money. She shuddered at the thoughts of a voyage in such a man- ner for she was accustomed to comfort- able surroundings. “Mon Dicu!” she exclaimed hoarsely; and collapsed, falling to the lloor in a heap— Marie awoke to find herself no longer in the steerage but in a berth in a state- room. She wondered at it, only faintly recalling how she happened to be on a ship. As though jn answer to her thoughts she heard a voice saying in French, though with an unaccustomed accent. . . “Well, my dear, 1 am glad to see that you have recovered. Half an hour ago, when I saw you faint I was much alarmed and had you brought up here. As soon as you feel well enough I want you to tell me about yourself.” Marie turned her head and saw beside her a kindly, gray-haired woman whose face showed the suffering which she was experiencing. Weariness was there, and sorrow, also. She did not recognize her as one of New York’s foremost women but only as a new, true, friend. Marie felt much better; so she sat up in order the better to tell her story. “I am Marie De Seur,” she began. My brother and I fled from the town when our home was destroyed and father was taken prisoner. With what little money we had wc arrived at the coast, planning to go to America. We were separated in the rush to board the ship for we and others were late.” She Often Crying—

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134 THE OCCIDENT Shk Saw a Coin in thk Snow the flying hours. When her brother again stepped forward, she stretched out her arms and murmured despairingly: “Jean—Jean.” The young fellow beside her could no longer refrain from speaking to her. “I am Irving Burton,” he ventured, “can I be of any assistance to you? I think wc have a mutual friend in Mrs. Vanderrock.” Marie turned, surprised to hear a voice so near. She saw the kindness in his face and the straightforwardness of his demeanor. In no time, she had told him her story. After Marie had gone he went to the box office of the theatre and secured the address of the war film company. Then he went home and wrote to secure all the news possible of the French regiment. As he sat at his desk, he became strangely moved. He contrasted the life which he was leading with that of young Jean in France. On the one hand, he saw himself not only busted out of col- lege, but absolutely dependent upon his father for every cent he spent. On the other hand, he saw Jean working with all his might for himself and for his sis- ter of whom he probably thought con- tinually, and hoped some day to find. Irving had lately felt much abused and downcast on account of his failure at college though this hadn’t troubled him as much as the fact that his father had cut his allowance. Worse yet, his mother, even, had turned against him. He had considered that his was a sad fate until he met Marie. It was then . that he found a sorrow far greater than his. Irving began to realize that he alone was responsible for the sadness. He resolved, then and there, to change his way and to do better. In a week’s time, Irving received a reply from the film company. He went directly to Mrs. Vanderrock with the good news. It contained all that Marie desired—mainly that the regiment was in winter quarters near Calais. She wrote to Jean asking him if it would be pos- sible and advisable for her to join him in France as a nurse. Weeks of vague hope passed. Marie began to despair of having an answer from Jean; but finally it came! She was elated for it contained the news that nurses were urgently needed, that she should come at once,—and to Jean’s camp! Passage was enclosed, so there was nothing to do but to prepare for her leaving. (Continued on page 54)