Chapter 4

My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my friend the alderman was on time. Finally the motor made its appearance. Something had happened on leaving St. Paul in the morning and the poor _hotelier_ had searched the entire city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All were _au service de l'armee_. Finally he had had to patch up things as best he could. As to an extra inner tube--such a thing didn't exist. We would have to take our chances with the wheel he had.

We started, but hadn't gone two hundred yards when a back tire blew off!

Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town. So I returned to the hotel, and while Huberson and the alderman were fixing up damages and adjusting the emergency wheel, I had time to read all the back numbers of _Illustration,_ which the _Soled d'Or_ possessed, and commence a conversation with the proprietress, who sat in the court shelling peas for dinner. She was certain that the war would be over in three months at the utmost!

At length I went out to see if I couldn't be of some assistance in the motor business, but Huberson said it would be ready in a few moments. As far as I could make out, my alderman friend was mostly a decorative personality, for he stood there with his hat on the back of his head, gesticulating vehemently, but never deigning to help my chauffeur in the slightest manner. When I asked him if he knew Soissons well and inquired if he could direct me to certain grocers where I could perhaps obtain a few provisions, he insisted on showing me the shops, with an alacrity which proved his incompetence at motor repairing.

During that short promenade on foot, we encountered the whole Ninth Territorial Regiment--not under arms but _au repos_. The men were seated in front of the barracks reading the papers or idly smoking their pipes, and all yearning for "something to do." Their wish, I fear, has been more than satisfied.

Start number two proved successful and we sped along very comfortably until we hit that long cobbled road. The day was exceedingly warm, the stones sun-baked, and after the first mile or so I saw Huberson looking nervously at his fore wheel. His anxiety was well founded, for half a minute later, whizz!--I could feel the rubber splitting!

We stopped and all climbed out.

"It's all up!" he exclaimed. "Not one--but two tires are burst, and the shoe of the emergency wheel is flapping like an old dirty rag!"

"Now, in my time--" began the alderman.

"Never mind about your time, old man. If you want to get back to Oulchy and that mowing machine before Christmas, you've got to pitch in and help," cut in Huberson, whose nerves could no longer stand the strain. Our friend took the hint and began stripping off his coat. We were eight miles from Soissons, on the upgrade of a cobbled road, full in the sun. It was three P. M. on a stifling August day!

The men must have spent an hour trying to make impossible repairs--they knew it was no use walking back to Soissons where aid had already been refused, and it was evident from the condition of the tubes that there was no hope of mending them.

What to do?

"I'll tell you," said I (and I must admit that I spoke for the sake of saying something), "I'll tell you! Suppose you take out the inner tubes and stuff the shoes with grass!"

The men looked at me as if I had suddenly gone out of my mind. Their contempt was so apparent that it wilted me.

"Yes--I'm serious."

And then arose a series of protestations which common sense bade me heed, but which didn't advance our cause in the slightest. When we had lost a full half-hour more arguing the question, I once again proclaimed my original idea.

The driver glanced at me in despair and shrugged his shoulders. "The least we can do is try."

So saying, we fell to work tearing up grass and weeds. And that is how I came to ride over thirty miles on three grass-stuffed tires, which, thanks to the heat, towards the end of the journey began sending forth little jets of green liquid much to the astonishment of all those who saw us pass.

III

The next few days following my eventful trip to Soissons were spent superintending the installation of my hospital. For convenience's sake I decided to utilize the entire ground floor, first because there were fewer and more spacious apartments, each one being large enough to hold ten or twelve beds, thus forming a ward; second, because it would be better to avoid carrying the wounded up a flight of stairs. The rooms above could be used in case of emergency. All this of course necessitated the moving of most of my furniture and _objets d'art_, as well as the emptying of H.'s much encumbered studio--I having determined to keep but a small apartment in the east wing for private use. It was really a tremendous undertaking, far worse than any "spring cleaning" I had ever experienced, especially as I was but poorly seconded by my much-depleted domestic staff, already more than busy trying to keep the farm going.

From the boys--George and Leon--I learned that old father Poupard had not yet put in his appearance since his departure three days before with his nag, and that mother Poupard had abandoned her belligerent attitude and had resorted to tears. She could be seen three times a day, on her return from the fields, standing by the bridge corner, wailing her distress to any passerby who had time enough to stop and listen. Poupard now possessed all the qualities of mankind and it was probably through his noble soft-heartedness that some ill had befallen him. What a misfortune, especially as the vines needed so much attention.

Sunday, the ninth, I was preparing to go to early service at Charly (our own curate had been called to join his regiment) when on crossing the bridge, a bicycle whisked by the victoria.

"He's coming--he's coming!" called the rider, as he passed us.

"Who?" I said, rising, as George drew up.

"Father Poupard!" called the boy. "I'm going to tell his wife!"

It was evident that the news had spread like wildfire, for looking up the street, I could see the villagers hurrying from their cottages. Already the hum of voices reached my ears, and anxious not to miss what promised to be a most dramatic meeting, I told George to drive to one side of the road and stop, and there we would await developments.

In less than a minute mother Poupard appeared. She was as good as her word, for now that she knew her lord and master was no longer in danger, she had cast sentiment to the winds and was actually brandishing that "big stick!"

"Ah, the good-for-nothing old drunkard!" she vociferated as she ran. "Just let me lay hands on him!"

Around the bend of the road came the excited peasants. They pressed so closely about someone that until they were almost upon us I could not distinguish who it might be. Then as mother Poupard pushed her way through the crowd, it parted and displayed her husband; drunk, but with pride; delirious, but with glory--proudly bearing his youngest grandson in his arms, leading the other by the hand.

"Oh, Joseph--" gasped his astonished wife, every bit of anger gone from her voice.

And then followed a very touching family scene in which the delinquent was forgiven, and during which time one of the bystanders explained that father Poupard had walked from Chateau-Thierry to Epernay, to fetch his orphan grandchildren, and had returned on foot, carrying first one and then the other accomplishing the hundred miles in not quite four days! A heroic undertaking for a man over seventy!

The sun rose and set several times ere my interior arrangements were completed and nothing extraordinary happened to break the monotony of my new routine. On Tuesday, the eleventh, the strange buzzing of a motor told us that an aeroplane was not far distant. Our chateau lies in the valley between two hills, so to obtain a clear view of the horizon, I hurried to the roof with a pair of field glasses.

Presently a tiny black speck appeared and as it grew within the scope of my glass, it was easy to recognize the shape of a _Taube_. That was my introduction to the enemy.

Without waiting a second I rushed to the telephone and asked central at Charly (the telephones now belonged to the army) to pass on the message that a German aeroplane had been sighted from the Chateau de Villiers, and was flying due west, head on for Paris. The noise had grown louder and louder, and when I returned to my post of observation, I found most of the servants assembled, all craning their necks. On came the _Taube_, and there we stood, gaping, never realizing an instant that we were running the slightest risk. The machine passed directly over our heads, not low enough, however, for us to distinguish its contents with the naked eye.

"There's another!" shouted someone. And turning our backs on the enemy, we gave our entire attention to a second speck that had suddenly risen on the horizon.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and the armored head of the ever-on-coming aeroplane glittered splendidly in the golden rays of the afternoon sun.

"_Cest un francais!_" cried George.

"_Non!_"

Allowing that an aeroplane flies at the rate of a mile a minute, one can easily imagine that we had not long to wait before number two sped over us. Through my glass I was able to recognize the tri-color cockade painted underneath the plane, and when I announced this there went up a wild shriek of joy.

At that moment a loud report in the west announced that the Germans had begun their deadly work on undefended territory.

"That's a bomb for the railway crossing at Nanteuil, I'll bet!" said Leon, and while I was realizing that that projectile might just as well have been for us, the others were gesticulating and bowling encouragement to their compatriot some few hundred yards above them, as though he could bear every word they said:

"Go it, old man!"

"Bring down that cursed blackbird!" "_Vive la France!_" and other similar ejaculations were drowned by the noise of the motor.

The chase was on! It was more exciting than any horserace I ever witnessed. The Frenchman was rapidly gaining on the other, but would they come into combat before they vanished from our horizon? That was the question that filled us with anguish.

On, on they sped, growing smaller and smaller every second. Presently it became impossible to distinguish them apart, but we knew that they had come within range of each other, for the two specks rose and fell by turns now soaring high, now dipping precipitately, seeming almost to touch at times. Then, just as they were about to disappear, one of them suddenly collapsed and fell. Which one, we never knew.

Towards dusk the _garde-champtre_ appeared and left orders that George and Leon must take their turns at mounting guard. Four hours right out of the sleep of a peasant boy especially when he is overworked, is likely to leave him useless the next day. It provoked me a little, but then it was duty and they must obey. The boys came on at eleven and having decided it would be better to get in an hour or so of rest beforehand, they retired to the hay loft. I promised to look in on them in case they should fail to waken, and at the appointed time I put on my sweater and went down to find, as I had expected, both youths slumbering peacefully, blissfully unconscious of the time. Poor little chaps, it seemed a pity to wake them, but what was to be done? Presently an idea of replacing them myself dawned upon me: a second later it so enchanted me that I wouldn't have had them wake for anything. The whole thing was beginning to be terribly romantic.

Slipping quietly away, I went to my room and got my revolver, and then going to the south front of the chateau, I softly whistled for my dogs. Three big greyhounds, a shepherd dog and a setter responded immediately, and just as I was about to shut the little yellow door, old Betsy, my favorite Boston bull, came panting around the corner of the house. With these five as bodyguard I sauntered up the road in the brilliant moonlight, arriving in front of the town hall just as the clock was striking eleven. I must say that my appearance and announcement rather shocked two elderly men who had been on the watch since seven o'clock.

Monsieur Demarcq protested that such a thing as a woman mounting guard had never been beard of, but I swiftly argued him out of that idea. What was required of me? That I stop every passer-by and every vehicle? Didn't he think me capable of doing so? And I pointed to my dogs and my revolver. The weight of the argument was so evidently on my side that they had nothing to do but to submit, and laughingly Mr. Foeter put me in possession of a heavy old gun, three packages of cartridges, and the lantern. Then once again they asked if I couldn't be dissuaded, to which I jokingly replied that I would set my dogs after them and drive them home if they didn't make haste to go there at once. That admonition proved more efficacious than I had dared hope, and assured me that my faithful beasts rejoiced in a ferocious reputation.

All sorts of fantastic ideas flitted through my brain as I took possession of my post. I began, however, by setting the lantern in the middle of the road, exactly in the center of the chain, as a warning to any on-comer. Then by the moonlight, I proceeded to examine my gun. It was a very primitive arm, and after carefully weighing it in my hands, I decided to abandon all thought of stalking up and down the road with such an implement on my shoulder. That kind of glory was not worth the morrow's ache, so I deposited the antiquated weapon in the hallway of the school house and resolved to rely on my Browning.

Afterwards I came out and seating myself on the bench with my back against the wall, waited for something to happen. My dogs seemed to have comprehended the gravity of my mission, and crouched close to my feet, cocking their ears at the slightest sound.

Little by little the great harvest moon climbed high behind our old Roman church, perched on the embankment opposite, bathing everything in molten silver, and causing the tall pine-trees in the little cemetery adjacent to cast long black shadows on the road. Down towards the Marne, the frogs were croaking merrily somewhere in the distance a night locust buzzed, and alarmed by the striking of midnight the owls who nested in the belfry, fluttered out into the night and settling on the church top, began their plaintive hooting. Still no one passed.

Such calm reigned that it was almost impossible to believe that over there, beyond those distant hills, battle and slaughter were probably raging.

Presently a shiver warned me that I had been seated long enough; so, marking a hundred steps, I began to pace slowly up and down, watching the ever-changing firmament. The first gray streaks of dawn were beginning to lighten the east when a growl from Tiger made me face about very abruptly. I must admit that my heart began beating abnormally, and the hand in my pocket gripped my revolver as though it were a live animal and likely to escape.

A second later all the dogs repeated the growl, and then I could hear the clicking of a pair of sabots on the road. The noise approached, and my guardians looked towards me, every muscle in their bodies straining, waiting for the single word, "_Apporte!_"

"_Couchez!_" I hissed, and awaited developments.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and in a moment the stooping figure of an old peasant came over the brow of the hill. The gait was too familiar to be mistaken. But what on earth was father Poupard doing on the highroad at that hour?

When he was within speaking distance I came out from the shadow of the wall and put the question. If he had suddenly been confronted with a spook I do not think the old man could have been more astonished. He stopped dead still, as though not knowing whether to turn about and run, or to advance and take the consequences. Realizing his embarrassment, I hastily proffered a few words of greeting, and then he chose the latter prerogative.

"-Vous?_" he said, when at length he found his tongue. "_Vous?_"

"Yes--why not?"

"Who's with you?"

"Nobody. Why?"

He seemed more embarrassed than ever. Evidently he hadn't yet "caught on."

"What can I do for you?" I continued.

He still hesitated, looking first at me and then at a bottle he carried in his hand. Finally he resolved to make a clean breast of it.

"Why," he said, "I didn't expect to find a woman here, least of all _une chatelaine_. It rather startled me! You see, I've got into the habit of coming round towards dawn. The boys begin to get chilly about that time, and are glad enough to have a go at my fruit brandy. They say I'm too old to mount guard, so I must serve my country as best I can. Will you have some--my own brew?"

I declined, but he was not offended; yet he seemed reluctant to go.

"Sit down," I said. "It won't belong before some of the men will be passing by on their way to the fields, and then you won't have made your journey for nothing."

Pere Potipard gladly accepted, and after a generous swig at his brandy, began telling me about what happened at Villiers during the German invasion in 1870. As he talked on, night gradually disappeared, and when the clock in the belfry tolled three A. M. my successors came to relieve me. I blew out the lantern and walked home in broad daylight.

The boys looked very sheepish when they learned what had happened, but as I did not boast of my exploit, merely taking it as a matter of course, they had no way of approaching the subject, and like many other things of the kind, it was soon forgotten in the pursuing of our onerous daily tasks, and the moral anxiety we were experiencing.

There seemed to be no end to the fruit season that summer. The lengthy table in the servants' hall was literally covered with glasses containing jam and jelly of every description, awaiting their paper lids. Nini said there were over five hundred--to me it seemed thousands, and I was heartily glad of a lull before the hospital should open. And I remember distinctly that the last thing I prepared was some thirty quarts of black currant brandy; that is to say, I had poured the raw alcohol on to the fruit and set the jars aside to await completion six months later! Shortly afterwards I received word by a roundabout route from Soissons that I might expect my trained nurses and supplies at any moment. In the meantime I was without word from H. since that eventful meeting a week before.

Saturday, the fifteenth of August, was as little like a religious fete day as one can imagine. At an early hour the winnowing machine rumbled up the road to the square beside the chateau. Under the circumstances each one must take his turn at getting in his wheat and oats, and there was no choice of day or hour. Besides, the village had already been called on to furnish grain and fodder for the army, and the harvest must be measured and declared at once. This only half concerned me, for my hay was already in the lofts before the war began, and two elderly men who had applied for work as bunchers, had been engaged for the last week in August.

After service at Charly, I walked across to the post office. The post mistress and telegraph operator, a delightful provincial maiden lady, always welcomes me most cordially, and at present I fancied she might have some news that had not yet reached Villiers. (Mind you, since the second of August we had had but two newspapers, and those obtained with what difficulty!) The _bureau_ now belonged to the army, and for a fortnight Mademoiselle Maupoix and her two young girl assistants had hardly had time to sleep, so busy were they transmitting ciphered dispatches, passing on orders, etc. It was to this physical exhaustion that I attributed the swollen countenance of my little friend when she opened the door to her private sitting-room. It was evident she had something to tell, but her exquisite breeding forbade that she go headlong into her subject, before having graciously inquired for my health, my husband and news of us both since last we met.

"And the war, Mademoiselle, do you know anything about what has happened?"

Two great tears swelled to Mademoiselle's eyes, which, however, bore a triumphant expression.

"Madame--the French flag is flying over Mulhouse--but it cost fifteen thousand lives! That is official news. I cannot give you further details nor say how I obtained what I have told you."

Then the armies had met and war was now a bloody reality!

I shuddered. Here was news of a victory and all we could do was weep! Once again the sons of France had generously shed their blood to reconquer their righteous belongings!

I left Mademoiselle and rode home in silence. Should I tell the villagers? Why not? But how?

The question answered itself, for as we approached the town hall I saw the school master and a number of elderly men seated on the bench beside the chain. When we pulled up to give Cesar breathing spell, they all came clustering around the carriage. Did I know anything? Had I heard anything?

"Gentlemen," I said, with a decided huskiness in my throat, "the French flag flies over, Mulhouse, but fifteen thousand men are _hors de combat!_"

Joy, followed almost instantaneously by an expression of sorrow, literally transfigured all their faces. Tears sprang to the eyes of several, falling silently down their furrowed cheeks, and without uttering a word, as one man they all uncovered! The respect for the glorious dead immediately abolished any desire for boisterous triumph.

There was no necessity to add any comment, so I continued my route to the chateau.

One night towards the end of the following week, I was awakened by the banging of doors and the shattering of window panes. A violent storm had suddenly blown up and the wind was working havoc with unfastened blinds and shutters. There was no use thinking of holding a candle or a lamp. Besides, the lightning flashed so brightly that I was able to grope my way through the long line of empty rooms, tighten the fastenings, and shut the windows. I had reached the second story without mishap and without hearing the slightest footstep within doors. All my little servants were so exhausted that even the thunder had not roused them. Presently, however, the sound of the gate bell broke on my ears.

"Pooh," thought I. "Some tree or branch has fallen on the wire. Catch me getting wet going out to see what it is."

The ringing continued, but more violently. And at regular intervals. I went down to the middle window and stuck my head out. At the same moment, my dogs made one wild rush towards the gate and a woman's voice called, "_Madame Huard, ouvrez, s'il vous plait!_"

By the light of another flash, I could distinguish a dripping figure in white. "Bah! someone is ill or dying and wants me to telephone for a doctor!"

So I pulled the bell communicating with the servants' quarters, threw on a few warmer clothes, and went below. At the foot of the stairs I came upon George and Leon much disheveled, but wide awake.

"There is someone in distress at the gate," I hurriedly explained. "Call off the dogs and go and see who it is. I'll light up in the refectory and wait for you there."

They obeyed, and in the course of three or four minutes returned, bringing with them a much-bedraggled but smiling woman on whose coat was pinned the Red Cross medal.

"I'm the trained nurse. Madame Macherez sent me here to help with your hospital."

"Oh! I'm sure you're welcome, Madame--"

"Guix is my name. I received my orders to join you here three days ago, and communications are so bad that I've come most of the way on foot. I humbly apologize for arriving at such an hour and in such a state."