The old hawker looked at her thoughtfully. He had seen much of men and
women, and knew truth from counterfeit, and he was moved by the child's
agony.
He stooped and whispered in her ear,--
"Get up quick, and I will pass you. It is against the law, and I may go
to prison for it. Never mind; one must risk something in this world, or
else be a cur. My daughter has stayed behind in Marbais sweethearting;
her name is on my passport, and her age and face will do for yours. Get
up and follow me close, and I will get you through. Poor little soul!
Whatever your woe is it is real enough, and you are such a young and
pretty thing. Get up, the guards are in their house, they have not seen;
follow me, and you must not speak a word; they must take you for a
German, dumb as wood."
She got up and obeyed him, not comprehending, but only vaguely seeing
that he was friendly to her, and would pass her over into France.
The old man made a little comedy at the barrier, and scolded her as
though she were his daughter for losing her way as she came to meet him,
and then crying like a baby.
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