Rose said suddenly: 'Marjan says the Germans cut his mother's hands off.'
Howard said gently: 'No more talk about the Germans now. In a little time we shall get out, and have a ride in a horse and cart.' He turned to Pierre. 'What sort of noise does a horse make?' he asked.
Pierre said shyly: 'I don't know.'
La petite Rose bent over him. 'Oh, Pierre, of course you know!
'My great-aunt lives in Tours, In a house with a cherry tree With a little mouse (squeak, squeak)
And a big lion (roar, roar)
And a wood-pigeon (coo, coo)...'
That lasted them all the way through Landerneau, of which they caught only glimpses through the windows at the back of the old van, and half-way to Lannilis.
Presently the van slowed, turned off the road, and bumped to a standstill. Arvers swung round to them from the driving-seat. 'This is the place,' he said. 'Get out quickly, it is not wise to linger here.'
They opened the door at the back of the van and got out. They were in a very small farmyard, the farmhouse itself little more than a workman's cottage of grey stone. The air was fresh and sweet after the van, with a clear savour of the sea. In the warm sun, and looking at the grey stone walls and roofs, Howard could have thought himself in Cornwall.
There was a cart and horse, the cart half loaded with manure, the old grey horse tied to the gate. Nobody was to be seen.
Arvers said: 'Now quickly, monsieur, before a German passes on the road. There is the cart. You have everything quite clear? You take the dung to Loudeac, who lives up on the hill above l'Abervrach, half a mile from the port. There you unload it; Mademoiselle Rougeron must bring back the cart tomorrow to this place. Focquet will be in the estaminet tonight at nine o'clock, and he will be expecting you. He will ask for Pernod des Anges. It is all clear?'
'One thing,' the old man said. This road leads straight to Lannilis?'
'Assuredly.' The horse-dealer glanced nervously around.
'How do we get through Lannilis? How do we find the road out of the town to l'Abervrach?'
The hot sun beat down on them warmly from a cloudless sky; the scent of briar mingled with the odour of manure about them. Arvers said: 'This road leads straight to the great church in the middle of the town. From the west end of the church a road runs westwards; follow that. Where it forks at the outskirts of the town, by an advertisement for Byrrh, take the right-hand fork. From there to l'Abervrach is seven kilometres.'
Nicole said: 'I have been that way before. I think I know the road.'
The horse-dealer said: 'I will not linger, mademoiselle. And you, you must move off from here at once.' He turned to Howard. 'That is all that I can do for you, monsieur. Good luck. In happier days, we may meet again.'
The old man said: 'I shall look forward to thanking you again for so much kindness.'
Arvers swung himself into the seat of the old van, reversed out into the road, and vanished in a white cloud of dust. Howard looked around; there was no movement from the house, which stood deserted in the afternoon sun.
Nicole said: 'Come, children, up you go.'
Willem and Marjan swung themselves up into the cart; the English children, with Pierre and Rose, hung back. Ronnie said doubtfully: 'Is this the cart you said we were going to have a ride in?'
Rose said: 'It is a dung-cart. It is not correct to ride in a cart full of horse-dung, mademoiselle. My aunt would be very cross with me if I did that.'
Nicole said brightly: 'Well, I'm going to. You can walk with monsieur and help lead the horse, if you like.' She bustled the other children into the cart before her; it was only half full and there was room for all of them to stand and sit on the edges of the sides in front of the load.
Pierre said: 'May I walk with Rose and lead the horse?'
Nicole said: 'No, Pierre, you're too small for that and the horse walks too quickly. You can stroke his nose when we get there.'
Howard untied the bridle from the gate and led the horse out into the road. He fell into a steady, easy shamble beside the horse, head hanging down.
For an hour and a half they went on like that before they reached the first houses of Lannilis. In the cart Nicole kept the children happy and amused; from time to time the old man heard a little burst of laughter above the clop, clop of the hooves of the old horse. La petite Rose walked on beside him, barefoot, treading lightly.
They passed a good deal of German transport on the road. From time to time lorries would come up behind them and they would pull in to the right to let them pass; the grey-faced, stolid soldiers staring at them incuriously. Once they met a platoon of about thirty infantry marching towards them down the road; the Oberleutnant in charge looked them over, but did not challenge them. Nobody showed much interest in them until they came to Lannilis.
On the outskirts of the town they were stopped. There was a barricade of an elementary nature, of two old motorcars drawn hah0 across the road, leaving only a small passage between. A sentry strolled out sleepily in the hot afternoon and raised his hand. Howard pulled up the horse and stared at him, and mumbled something with head hanging and mouth open. An Unteroffzier came from the guard-house and looked them over.
He asked in very bad French: 'Where are you taking this to?'
The old man raised his head a little and put his hand to one ear. 'Eh?'
The German repeated his question in a louder tone.
'Loudeac,' the old man said. 'Loudeac, outside 1'Aberv-rach.'
The Unteroffizier looked at Nicole. 'And madame goes too?'
Nicole smiled at him and put her hand on Pierre's shoulder. 'It is the little one's birthday,' she said. 'It is not easy to make fete these days. But as my uncle has to make this trip this afternoon, and as the load is only half and therefore easy for the horse, we make this little journey for an outing for the children.'
The old man nodded. 'It is not easy to make a treat for children in times like these.'
The Unteroffizier smiled. 'Proceed,' he said lazily. 'Many happy returns of the day.'
Howard jerked up the old horse, and they passed up the street. There was little traffic to be seen, partly because the French were keeping within doors, partly, no doubt, because of the heat of the afternoon. A few houses were evidently requisitioned by the Germans; there were German soldiers lounging at the windows of bare rooms cleaning their equipment, in the manner of soldiers all over the world. None of them paid any attention to the dung-cart.
By the great church in the middle of the town three tanks were drawn up in the shade of the plane-trees, with half a dozen lorries. From one large house the Swastika flag floated lazily in the hot summer afternoon from a short staff stuck out of a first-floor window.
They paced steadily through the town, past shops and residences, past German officers and German soldiers. At the outskirts of the town they took the right fork at the advertisement for Byrrh, and left the last houses behind them. Presently, blue and hazy in a dip between two fields, the old man saw the sea.
His heart leaped when he saw it. All his life he had taken pleasure from the sight and savour of the sea. In its misty blueness between the green fields it seemed to him almost like a portion of his own country; England seemed very close. By tomorrow evening, perhaps, he would have crossed that blue expanse; he would be safe in England with the children. He trudged on stolidly, but his heart was burning with desire to be at home.