Page:Ruth of the U.S.A. (IA ruthofusa00balm).pdf/316

 Mademoiselle, I do not mean harm to you. I am only Antoine Fayal, a Frenchman from Amagne in the department of Ardennes, Mademoiselle. I"

Opening her eyes, Ruth saw a thin, hollow-cheeked, dark-haired man of middle age in the rags of blouse and trousers which had been, once, a French peasant's attire. He quickly withdrew his hand, which had been upon Ruth's wrist; and his bloodless lips smiled respectfully and reassuringly.

"I am French, Mademoiselle," he begged in a whisper. "Believe me! One of the deported; a prisoner. My duty here, a woodsman! Happening by here, Mademoiselle, I discovered you; but I alone! No one else. You will pardon; but you were so white; you barely breathed. I did not believe you dead, Mademoiselle; but faint, perhaps. So I sought to ascertain!"

"I thank you!" Ruth whispered back, feeling for her papers. "Where are we?"

"This is part of the estate of Graf von Weddingen, Mademoiselle. We are very close to the Rhine. You are" he coughed and altered his question before completing it. "It may be in my power to aid you, Mademoiselle?"

"I am an American," Ruth said.

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"I have been trying to reach Alsace and the French and American lines."

"You have done well so far, Mademoiselle," Fayal said respectfully.

"How do you know?"

"I know that at noon yesterday, Mademoiselle, you