Chapter 5

I hurried Madame Guix off to her apartment, told the boys to wake Julie and have her send us a cup of tea and some refreshments in my little drawing-room. Though it was the middle of August, the rain and dampness were so penetrating that I did not hesitate to touch a match to a brushwood fire that is always prepared in my grate. In a short time my guest reappeared and as she refreshed herself, I busily plied her with questions concerning the events of the last two weeks.

Madame Guix, a woman but little over thirty, came from Choisy-le-Roi (the city of famous Rouget de l'Isle). _Merciere_ by trade, on the death of husband and baby she had adopted the career of _infirmiere_, and at the outbreak of the war found herself in possession of her diploma and ready to serve. She had enlisted at the big military hospital her native town had installed in the school house, and for three long weeks had sat and waited for something to do.

"Are there no wounded there?"

"Not when I left."

"Have you ever yet had occasion to nurse a soldier?"

"Yes, of course. Four days after the declaration when the Forty-ninth Territorials came through Choisy on their forced march to the front, we were suddenly filled up with cases of congestion. You see, that regiment is Composed of men mostly over forty, and what with the heat, their guns and their sacs, and unaccustomed to such a life, many of them couldn't stand the strain. My first patient was a sad little man named Bouteron.

"Bouteron? What Bouteron?"

"Marcel Bouteron."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Is he dead?"

"No."

I breathed again. Thank God! Bouteron, Bouteron, our Jolly little Bouteron, gaiety itself, who three weeks ago was the very life and soul of our last house party! Was it possible? Already "down and out!" And to think that this strange woman should bring me the news. I drew my chair nearer to Madame Guix and for two long hours we talked, as only women can.

From Choisy she had sought to exercise her _métier_ to better advantage by approaching the front, so had addressed herself to Madame Macherez in Soissons. From there she had been sent to me. Did she think there was any possibility of nursing wounded in our hospital? We were so far south.

She was confident that we would not be empty long. Bloody battles were being waged from Alsace throughout the entire north. Belgian territory had been violated and Liege was putting up a heroic defense.

But our doctor and the pharmaceutical products? From where and when would they arrive? Food and bedding would go a long way, but were hardly sufficient to start a hospital!

We were to count on Madame Macherez for both. She had promised to do her utmost to reach us with our supplies, but the rules of circulation on the roads were so severe that even Red Cross supply cars had to stand in line and await permits. In the meantime we must organize as best we could.

The following morning a few moments' intercourse proved to me that Madame Guix's competence extended far beyond the bounds of her _métier_. She was a splendid worker, and no task was too difficult, so long as it furthered our purpose--namely, that of being ready in case of emergency.

By noon we had decided that it would be useless to count upon my servants to help in the hospital. They already had all they could do. So I went and asked our mayor if he knew of any women who, _de bonne volonte_, would come and assist us. Madame Guix volunteered to teach them the rudiments of bandaging between two and five on the coming afternoons, and we would establish a _roulement_ so that the little time that each disposed of might be properly and efficiently utilized.

The drum beat and made the announcement, and at two the same afternoon we had the satisfaction of welcoming some twenty women. In the meantime every bit of old linen I possessed was brought down and put on the dining room table, then measured and torn in _formes rilglementaires_ ready to be sterilized and put aside. Half a dozen bands were left out as models and it was with these that Madame Guix commenced her demonstrations. She soon put her listeners at ease, and presently all were anxious to try a hand at bandaging. The naive clumsiness of these poor souls was extremely pathetic, but such was their patriotism that they never considered themselves ridiculous for a single instant, and stood there fumbling the long linen rolls with bands that were hands more accustomed to wielding a spade or directing a plough. Again and again they would recommence certain difficult proceedings, taking turns at playing the dummy, and offering as models calves and biceps of which many an athlete might have been proud.

Of the score of women but two or three really acquired any facility, but we considered that sufficient, for in time of need the others could easily be put to work at necessary matters which were of less vital importance.

From the windows of the dining-room where the _cours_ was held, we could look down the driveway and see all the children of the neighborhood standing on the wall of the moat, craning their necks in the hope of catching a glimpse of what was going on in the chateau. It was evidently an interesting diversion, for every afternoon they reappeared, in spite of George's threats to send for the _gendarmes_. The little demons seemed to know that the gendarmes were too busy to give them any attention, and I assure you, they profited by their liberty. Little John Poupard and his five-year-old brother were the leaders of the band, and I trembled lest some day their curiosity lead to a tragic end!

Nor were my fears in vain, for one afternoon we beard a shriek and a splash, followed by cries of terror, and we knew for certain that some one had fallen into the moat. The embankment is not eight feet high, and at that season of the year there is more mud than water in the river, so I was certain that whoever had fallen in was in no danger of drowning--but nevertheless I hastened with the others to the spot.

George, who had also heard the noise, reached the scene of action before we did, and on our arrival we found him knee deep in the mud, preparing to hoist a little limp body on to the bank.

Johnny Poupard!

"Good heavens!" thought I. "Decidedly that family had no intention of letting the village rust for want of dramatic situations!"

"He's merely fainted; more frightened than hurt," declared Madame Guix, who had literally pounced upon him. "Now then, ladies," she said, turning towards the women who stood gaping at us, "now then, here's a splendid opportunity to distinguish yourselves."

And so little John Poupard was carried into the infirmary. As first patient you may be sure that be received every attention. Some ammonia was held under his nose. This soon brought him around and after carefully sounding all his bones, Madame Guix decided that there were no fractures. And the bandaging began!

It makes me smile when I think of it all now--for the only wounds Johnny possessed were a few scratches on his bands, knees and head, caused by his sudden contact with a patch of stinging nettles which had sprung up on the river banks.

Under ordinary circumstances, the child would probably have picked himself up and walked home, forgetting his woes an hour later. But real live models who are actually in pain, are few and far between, especially at "courses" such as ours, and the amount of professional skill that was expended on that little urchin ought to have cured six of his kind. But it all made the women so happy!

At the end of half an hour, Johnny Poupard looked more like an Egyptian mummy than a human being, so much so that when his grandmother arrived upon the scene of action, she very nearly fainted and all but became patient number two at Auxiliary Hospital No. 7!

We had some little difficulty reassuring her, but when her prodigal grandson sat up and asked for bread and jam, she forgot her anxiety and began scolding him for daring to give her such a fright, and us so much trouble.

* * * *

Towards the end of the third week in August the mobilization was considered finished and the Eastern Railroad opened again to the public; its time tables of course being limited and subject to instant change, the company refusing to be responsible for delays. To us at the chateau this meant very little, save that we would receive our mail and the daily papers more frequently. However, several friends who fancied I was unsafe alone and so far from the capital, kindly ventured to start to Villiers to try to persuade me to come up to town. It took them seven hours to reach Meaux (thirty miles from Paris); they were obliged to sleep there because it was because it was announced that their train went no further--and worse than all, they were eighteen hours getting home.

"Wheren't people furious?" I questioned, when afterwards they told me of their adventure.

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it patiently as part of his tribute to his country. 'The army first' was their motto."

The first batch of mail brought me any number of stale letters, which had arrived and been held in Paris over three weeks. Invitations to a house party in Belgium and things of that kind that seemed so strangely out of place now. The two most important documents, however, came, one from my cousin, Marie Huard (Superior at the Convent of the Infant Jesus at Madrid) and the other from Elizabeth Gauthier.

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate and communicate with every member of the Huard family called to arms (and they are numerous, when one considers that H. has no less than twelve married uncles!) and she enclosed me a sort of map, or family tree, indicating the names, ages, regiments, etc., of some fifty cousins, begging me to write and encourage them from time to time.

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black border--and I trembled as I opened it. She was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of her eldest brother, killed at the battle of Mulhouse, the ninth of August. Her solitude preyed upon her, and she announced her departure for her sister's chateau in Burgundy.

That was the first real sadness that the war had brought me so far. It quite upset me, for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful friend, but one of the most promising engineers of the younger generation in France. Both family, friends and country might well deplore such a loss.

Even the making and hoisting of a huge Red Cross flag over the chateau failed to arouse my enthusiasm all that day. The blow was too cruel and had stimulated fears which heretofore had lain dormant within me.

The next day, however, I was not permitted to brood over my grief, for Yvonne (she of the poultry farm) fell ill with a severe attack of sciatica, which kept her in her bed, every movement producing a scream of agony.

Of course Madame Guix was there to lend a hand, but that hardly altered the situation, so I was obliged to ask the boys to give another "pull" and try to be equal to the work. Lleon accepted with such alacrity that for the first time it dawned on me that perhaps he had a soft spot in his heart for my pretty little goose girl, and this unsuspected romance, interwoven with the joys and anxieties of the moment, seemed all the more charming.

To cap the climax of misfortune, old Cesar had run a nail into his hoof and Madame Guix spent most of her time between injections of oxygen on the first floor, and iodine and flaxseed poultices in the stables. This of course meant that all errands outside the village must be made on bicycle, and George was "mustered into service." Towards noon on the 27th he made his first return trip from Charly, bringing the mail and the papers, and a very excited countenance.

"Madame, I've seen one!" he shouted, as I appeared in the doorway.

"Seen what?"

"_Un casque a' point!_"

"A what!"

"Yes--a pointed helmet. I was standing by the post office in Charly when a long line of motors passed by on the road to Paris. I recognized the Belgium uniform, and one of the soldiers leaned out and held up a German helmet! What a trophy!"

"The Belgians! What on earth are they doing down here?" thought I. And George guessed my question.

"Oh," he continued, "you see their regiment was cut in two by the Germans at Charleville and those who escaped managed to get motors and are on their way home--by a round-about route to Antrwerp via Havre. The hotel keeper said so. She offered some wine to one motor full that stopped."

If that were true it was an amazing bit of news! Then things were not going as well as the now very reticent papers led one to suppose. But it all seemed so very distant that I refused to worry.

However, I was about to seek out Madame Guix and tell her what George had reported when an amusing sight caught my eye.

From her open window, towards which she had asked that we push her bed, Yvonne amused herself by calling her ducklings.

"Bour-ree--bour-ree!"

Then from the farmyard a good two hundred yards distant, would rise the reply, "Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Big and small recognized the call of their little mistress and hastened to respond.

"Bouree-bour-ree-bouree!" called Yvonne again and again.

Evidently the ducks decided to hold a consultation and send delegates to see what on earth prevented their friend from caring for them in person since they could hear her voice. For as I looked across the lawn towards the door, imagine my surprise on catching sight of some thirty or forty Rouenese ducks of all sizes waddling up the steps and into the vestibule.

"Bour-ree, bouree!" Yvonne continued.

"Quack, quack, quack!" came the reply, and when I reached the entrance hall, I found them all clustered together at the foot of the staircase, their beads cocked on one side, awaiting a decision of their drake before undertaking to mount the marble stairway.

That same afternoon the _cour d'infirmieres_ transported itself to the lawn in front of the chateau. It was too splendid weather to stay indoors. The demonstrations were finished and most of the women had retired, when one of those who remained lifted her finger and asked for silence. "Listen," she said, "the cannon!" She didn't need to go any further. In less than a second's time we were straining our ears towards the east!

"There!" she said, "there it goes again!"

Three of us had heard a sound which strangely resembled the popping of a cork at a very great distance. Remembering my grandmother's Indian stories, I stretched out on the grass with my ear to the ground. This time I heard the rolling so distinctly that my face must have altered, for two of the woman shuddered and took hasty leave.

In a second I guessed that they were off to tell the news--so I made light of it by declaring that it must be the trying-out of some heavy artillery at Chalons; but when Madame Guix and I found ourselves alone, we looked at each other with interrogation points in our eyes.

We thought of our hospital, of our supplies, of our perfect uselessness unless Soissons could yet reach us--and I resolved to go down to the druggist at Charly and see what could be done. The following morning, Saturday, the twenty-ninth--I betook myself to Charly and there managed to beg the elements of a rudimentary infirmary from the old pharmacist, who must have thought me crazy. Absorbent cotton I was able to procure in small rolled packages from the draper, and promising to send the boys down in the afternoon with a small band cart, I returned home, without having observed anything abnormal save the frequent passage of autos towards Paris--all going top speed and loaded with the queerest occupants and baggage.

On my return great excitement reigned around our gate, for a private automobile containing wounded had halted on seeing our Red Cross flag, and Madame Guix welcomed them in.

They were _petit blesses_, all able to travel, probably suffering more from heat and privation than from their wounds. They had no orders to stop, but hoped we would let them rest a bit before going further--and could we give them something to eat?

All this was very fortunate considering our precarious situation and we gladly did the best we knew how. There were six poor chaps belonging to different regiments, but all so tired that it seemed cruel to prevent their snatching a rest by plying them with questions. We could do that later on.

The lads were hardly stretched out when another motor drew up before the gate. This one contained besides three privates a young officer with his arm in a sling, and he asked if we could give them water. Leon told them that they would be very welcome if they would care to come in and rest--there were already a half-dozen wounded asleep in the house. At these words the lieutenant jumped down and asked for the _medicin-chef_. He was rather startled when I appeared, and told him that there was no military authority as yet installed at the chateau.

"Then I must take all the responsibility of the men," he said very kindly but firmly. "I'm sorry, but they cannot remain here. I must deliver them safe at some big center outside the zone of operations."

The time had come for questions--and I learned with amazement that Liege had fallen, Belgium was invaded, and that hard fighting was going on at St. Quentin, but eighty miles away. "The cannon of yesterday was no target practice," thought I. The men all seemed so hopeful, though, that we never felt a qualm.

"As you will, Monsieur," I said, and the weary boys were wakened and hurried off before we had time to ask names, addresses or any further details.

All this had transpired so rapidly that we had had no time to call in our assistants, and presently Madame Guix and I found ourselves alone in the empty vestibule.

IV

Nothing further happened that afternoon. Madame Guix's course went on as usual, with perhaps a little more animation in the conversation, and much speculation as to when and where those who had stopped at the chateau had been wounded. No one really knew. To tell the truth, though later Madame Guix and I had asked them, the soldiers themselves had but a very indistinct idea of time and date or whereabouts.

That night I was awakened by the low rumbling of heavy carts on the road in front of the chateau. Fancying that perhaps it was artillery on its way to the front, I put on my dressing gown and went as far as the gate. There in the pale moonlight I beheld a long stream of carriages and wagons of every description piled high with household goods, and filled with women and children. The men walked beside the horses to prevent collision, for as far as eye could see, the lamentable _cortege_ extended down the hill.

What did this mean?

"Who are you?" I called to one of the men as they passed.

"Belgians--refugees."

Refugees! My mind flew back to descriptions of the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror, when so many people fled for their lives! What nonsense! Were we not in the twentieth century? Wasn't there a Peace Palace at The Hague? My thoughts became muddled.

Opening the gate, I went out and accosted another man.

"Won't you come in and rest?"

"No, we can't. We must make our twenty miles by dawn--and rest during the heat of the day."

"But why do you leave home?"

"Because the savages burned us out!"

Bah, the man must be dreaming!

I turned back and addressed myself to another:

"What's your hurry?" I queried

"They're on our heels!" came the reply.

Surely this one was madder than the other!

A third did not deign to reply, sturdily marching on ahead, his eyes fixed on the road in front of him.

On top of a farm cart half filled with bay I saw the prostrate form of a woman with two others kneeling beside her ministering to her wants. In the trap that followed was the most sorrowful group of old men and middle-aged women I ever hope to see. All were sobbing. Besides them rode two big boys on bicycles. I stopped one of these.

"What's the matter with her?" I questioned, pointing to the woman on the cart.

"She's crazy."

"?"

"Yes, lost her mind."

"How, when, where?"

"Two days ago, when we left X. (Try as I may, I cannot recall the name of the little Belgian town be mentioned.) She was ill in bed with a fever when the Germans set fire to the place--barely giving us time to hoist her into the cart. Her husband lingered behind to scrape a few belongings together. In spite of our efforts, she would stand up on the cart, and suddenly we heard an explosion and she saw her house burst into flame. She fainted. Outside in the woods we waited an hour, but her husband never came. Perhaps it's just as well, for when she woke up her mind was a blank!"

Ye gods! I rubbed my eyes. It couldn't be possible that all this was true! I was asleep! It was merely a horrible nightmare. But no--the carts rolled on in the pale moonlight carrying their heavy burdens of human misery.

It was more than I could stand. All thought of sleep had vanished, so I went and woke Madame Guix. We dressed and descended to the kitchen, where with a few smoldering embers, we soon managed to light a good fire. Water was set to boil and in half an hour's time we carried out to the bridge two huge pails of hot coffee, a pail of cold water, and one of wine. No one refused our offerings, and the hearty "God bless you's" of those kindly souls brought tears to our eyes more than once.

Dawn, Monday, August 31st, found us still at our posts. I rang the farm bell, assembled my servants, and told them we would abandon all but the most necessary farm work and minister to the wants of the refugees. By eight o'clock they had peeled and prepared vegetables enough to fill two huge copper pots, and the soup was set to boil. And still the long line of heavy vehicles followed one another down the road: moving vans, delivery wagons, huge drays, and even little three-wheeled carts drawn by dogs, rolled on towards the south.

When asked where they were going, most of the people replied, "Straight ahead of us, _a' la grace de Dieu_."

By the morning the heat had grown intolerable and a splendid looking man got down from a cart and came towards me. Might he turn his party into the drive and rest a bit in the shade?

I was only too willing, and gladly offered hot soup and stewed fruit to any who would accept.

Two long heavy drays each drawn by a pair of the handsomest big bay horses with creamy manes that I have ever seen, pulled up in the courtyard. Impromptu seats had been arranged in the wagons and from these climbed down some twenty or thirty old women, children and men, worn out by the fatigue, anxiety, and want of sleep. My heart went out to them, and in a generous moment I was about to offer them my beds so they could get a good rest before starting off again, but on second thought it dawned on me that I must keep them for the army! What a pretty thing it would be if another auto full of wounded suddenly appeared and found all my wards occupied!

I explained my position. They grasped it at once. It was too good of me. They were all well and needed no beds--would I let them sleep in the bay for a few hours?

But better still, I suggested, if the boys would carry a dozen or so extra mattresses I possessed into the harness room, the women might lie there, and the men could take to the hay.

They had food, plenty of it, bought on the way from village dealers who had not yet been seized with panic and shut up shop. So I told them that instead of building individual fires they might cook their noonday meal on my huge range. They might also use my kitchen utensils and china if they would wash up, and thus save unpacking their own. Apparently this was unheard of generosity and I cannot tell you how many times that morning my soul was recommended to the tender protection of the Blessed Virgin.