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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20111-8.txt b/20111-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3183614 --- /dev/null +++ b/20111-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5799 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of With Those Who Wait, by Frances Wilson Huard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: With Those Who Wait + +Author: Frances Wilson Huard + +Release Date: December 15, 2006 [EBook #20111] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: WITH THOSE WHO WAIT] + + + + + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT + + +BY + +FRANCES WILSON HUARD + + + +AUTHOR OF "MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR," "MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF +MERCY," ETC. + + + +WITH DRAWINGS BY CHARLES HUARD + + + + +McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD & STEWART + +PUBLISHERS -------- TORONTO + + + + +Copyright, 1918, + +By George H. Doran Company + + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +A MES AMIES FRANÇAISES, + +HÉROINES TOUTES + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY + +MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK + +A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT + +DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME--PARIS + +VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME + +THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR + +A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE + +MONSIEUR AMÉDÉ + +FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUÉ IN A LITTLE FRENCH CITY + +MAXENCE + + + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT + + +I + +Once upon a time there wasn't any war. In those days it was my custom +to drive over to Château-Thierry every Friday afternoon. The horses, +needing no guidance, would always pull up at the same spot in front of +the station from which point of vantage, between a lilac bush and the +switch house, I would watch for the approaching express that was to +bring down our week-end guests. + +A halt at the bridge head would permit our friends to obtain a +bird's-eye view of the city, while I purchased a measure of +fresh-caught, shiny-scaled river fish, only to be had of the old +boatman after the arrival of the Paris train. Invariably there were +packages to be called for at Berjot's grocery store, or Dudrumet's dry +goods counter, and then H. having discovered the exact corner from +which Corot painted his delightful panorama of the city, a pilgrimage +to the spot almost always ensued. + +A glance in passing at Jean de la Fontaine's house, a final stop at +"The Elephant" on the quay to get the evening papers, and then passing +through Essommes with its delightful old church, Bonneil and Romery, +our joyful party would reach Villiers just in time for dinner. + +A certain mystery shrouded the locality where our home was situated. +Normandy, Brittany, the Châteaux of Touraine, the climate of the +Riviera, have, at various seasons been more attractive, not only to +foreigners, but to the Parisians themselves, so aside from the art +lovers who made special trips to Rheims, there was comparatively little +pleasure travelling in our immediate neighbourhood, and yet what +particular portion of France is more historically renowned? Is it not +on those same fertile fields so newly consecrated with our blood that +every struggle for world supremacy has been fought? + +It would be difficult to explain just why this neglect of the lovely +East; neglect which afforded us the privilege of guiding our friends, +not only along celebrated highways, but through leafy by-paths that +breathed the very poetry of the XVIIth. century, and stretched, +practically untrodden, through Lucy-le-Bocage, Montreuil-aux-Lions, +down to the Marne and La Ferté-sous-Jouarre. + +It was wonderful rolling country that rippled back from the river; +abounding not only in vegetation, but in silvery green harmonies so +beloved of the Barbizon master, and sympathetic even by the names of +the tiny hamlets which dotted its vine-covered hills. + +Our nearest dealer in agricultural machines lived in a place called +Gaudelu. We called him "MacCormick" because of his absolute and +loquacious partiality for those American machines, and to reach his +establishment we used to pass through delightful places called le Grand +Cormont, Neuilly-la-Poterie, Villers-le-Vaste. + +As I write these lines (July, 1918) the station at Château-Thierry is +all of that city that remains in our hands. The bridge head has become +the most disputed spot on the map of Europe; "The Elephant" a heap of +waste in No Man's Land, while doubtless from the very place where Corot +painted his masterpiece, a German machine gun dominating the city is +belching forth its ghastly rain of steel. + +That very country whose obscurity was our pride is an open hook for +thousands of eager allies and enemies, while on the lips of every wife +and mother, from Maine to California, Belleau Woods have become words +full of fearful portent. I often wonder then, if the brave Americans +who are actually disputing inch by inch my home and its surroundings +have ever had time to think that a little village known as "Ecoute s'il +pleut," might find its English equivalent in "Hark-how-it-rains!" + +Two touching accounts of the second descent upon our country have come +to my hands. A little orphan peasant lad, under army age, who fled +with our caravan four years since, now pointer in the French +artillery--writes as follows from "Somewhere in France"--June 6, 1918: + + +DEAR MADAME: + +Just a line to tell you I am alive and well; unfortunately I cannot say +as much for my grandparents, for you doubtless know what has again +befallen our country. All the inhabitants have been evacuated. + +I am absolutely without news of my grandparents. I learned to-day +through a word from my brother Alfred that they had been obliged to +leave home and had fled in an unknown direction. In spite of the +rumour of a new invasion they did not intend to leave Villiers. + +My sister left the first, with some of the young girls of the village. +After twenty-four hours in Paris they were evacuated to a village in +the Yonne. + +My brother was obliged to go the next day, and at the present time is +at Rozoy-en-Brie. I believe we made a halt there in 1914 when we fled +as refugees. After three days at Rozoy, Alfred could stand it no +longer, and with three companions they started home on bicycles, in +order to see what had happened. They reached Villiers to find every +house empty, and were almost instantly expulsed by shells. So now we +are all scattered to the four winds of heaven. I am so sad when I +think of my poor grand-parents, obliged to leave home and to roll along +the high-roads at their age. What misery! + +I am afraid our village is going to suffer much more than it did in +1914. That horde of scoundrels will spare nothing! And when will it +all be over? + +I hope that my letter will find you well and happy, and I beg you to +believe me gratefully and respectfully yours, + +LÉON CHATELAIN + Maréchal des Logis + 206e Artillerie--28e Batterie + Secteur 122. + + +"With the Mayor, and thanks to a neighbour's car, I was able to get +away," writes Monsieur Aman Jean, the well-known painter, who had a +home in Château-Thierry. "The situation was becoming unbearable and we +three were the last to leave our unfortunate city. Behind us an army +engineer blew up the post and telegraph office, the military buildings, +the station, the store house, and finally the bridge. Our eyes were +beginning to smart terribly, which announced the presence of mustard +gas, and told us we had left none too soon. + +"I will never forget the sight and the commotion of the road leading +from Château-Thierry to Montmirail. Interminable lines of army +transports on one side counterbalanced by the same number of fleeing +civilians going in the opposite direction. Now and then a farm cart +would pull aside to let a heavy military truck get by, and one can +hardly imagine the state of a highway that is encumbered by a double +current of refugees and soldiers hastening towards the front. The +painful note was made by the unfortunate civilians who had put on their +Sunday clothes, the only way they had of saving them. As to the +picturesque, it was added by the multitude of little donkeys trotting +beneath the weight of the machine guns, and by the equipment of the +Italian troops. There were bright splashes of colour here and there, +together with a heroic and lamentable animation. It impressed me most +violently. It was wonderfully beautiful and pathetically horrible. + +"On one side old people, women and children formed a long straggling +cortège; while on the other--brilliant youth constituted a homogeneous +and solid mass, marching to battle with calm resolution. + +"The populations of the East are astonishingly courageous and resigned. +That of Château-Thierry watched the evacuation of the Government +Offices, the banks, the prefecture and the post office without the +slightest alarm. The retreat was well advanced ere they dreamed of it. +When finally the people realised that the enemy was at their very +gates, they moved out swiftly without any commotion." + + +The German onslaught at the Marne in 1914 had been terrible but brief. +The life of our entire region was practically suspended while the Hun +wreaked his vengeance, not only on our armies, but our innocent +civilians and their possessions. Shot and shell, organised looting and +cruelty, were employed to cow the intrepid spirit of the French, but +without success. When, finally their retreat came, hands were quick to +repair material damage, refugees swiftly returned, and even the +September rains joined in the effort to purify the fields which had +been so ruthlessly polluted. + +With the Hun on the Aisne, and a victory to our credit, there wasn't +even a pause for breath. A new life seemed to surge forth, and all +bent their energies towards effacing every trace of what had seemed +like a hideous nightmare. Even the Eastern Railway, which had been +closed on account of the destruction of some seven or eight bridges +over the Marne, broke all records by repairing or replacing them in +eleven days' time. And while this had no direct bearing upon our +situation, the moral effect of even _hearing_ the train-loads of men +and munitions passing through our region, was certainly surprising. + +Little by little things began to assume their normal aspect. Not that +they ever entirely regained it, for there was always the dull rumbling +of the cannon to remind us of bygone terrors, while the establishment +of several emergency hospitals in the vicinity lent an animation to the +highroads, formerly dotted with private cars, but now given over +entirely to ambulances and supply trucks. + +As to the uniforms, they quickly became such accustomed sights that a +youthful civilian would have been the novelty. + +Buoyed up by the success of our armies, every one expected an early +peace, and even the busiest of us began making projects for the fair +future. In the odd moments of relief from my somewhat onerous hospital +duties, my only pleasure and distraction was to build castles in the +air, and in the eternal Winter lights I laid many a plan for a little +boudoir next my bedroom, which I had long desired to see realised. + +When news of H.'s safety reached me, my imagination knew no limits. + +The convalescent patients from all branches of trade, who at different +times had filled the rooms of the château, converted into wards, had +been very deft at repairing everything in the way of furniture that the +Germans had defaced or neglected to appropriate. There were many +skilful carpenters and cabinet makers among them, and I saw visions of +employing them at their own trade, producing both occupation, which +they craved, and funds which they needed, but were too proud to accept +as gifts, and what a surprise that room would be for H.! + +I even pushed my collector's mania so far as to pay a visit to an old +bourgeois who lived in a little city called La Ferté-Milon, quite a bit +north of us. The walls of his salon were ornamented with some charming +eighteenth century paper representing the ports of France, and in +excellent condition. I had long coveted it for my boudoir, and in days +before the war had often dickered with him as to price. I now feared +lest it should have been destroyed or disfigured, and regretted having +wished to drive too keen a bargain, but on finding it intact, I am +ashamed to say the collector's instinct got the better of the woman, +and I used every conceivable argument to persuade him to come to my +price. The old fellow was as obdurate as ever. + +"But," I suggested, "don't you realise what a risk you are taking? +Suppose the Germans were to get back here again before you sell it? +You're much nearer the front than we! You will not only lose your +money, but the world will be minus one more good thing, and we've lost +too many of those already." + +The withering glance with which this remark was received was as good as +any discourse on patriotism. + +"The Germans back here? Never! Why at the rate we're going now it +will be all over before Spring and you'll see what a price my paper +will fetch just as soon as peace comes!" + +Peace! Peace! the word was on every lip, the thought in every heart, +and yet every intelligence, every energy was bent on the prosecution of +the most hateful warfare ever known. In all the universe it seemed to +me that the wild animals were the only creatures really exempt from +preoccupation about the fray. It might be war for man and the friends +of man, but for them had come an unexpected reprieve, and even the more +wary soon felt their exemption from pursuit. Man was so busy fighting +his own kind that a wonderful armistice had unconsciously arisen +between him and these creatures, and so birds and beasts, no longer +frightened by his proximity, were indulging in a perfect revel of +freedom. + +During the first weeks of the conflict, the "cotton-tails," always so +numerous on our estate, were simply terrified by the booming of the +guns. If even the distant bombardment assumed any importance, they +would disappear below ground completely, for days at a time. My old +foxhound was quite disconcerted. But like all the rest of us they soon +became accustomed to it, and presently displayed a self assurance and a +familiarity undreamed of, save perhaps in the Garden of Eden. + +[Illustration: VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY] + +It became a common sight to see a brood of partridges or pheasants +strutting along the roadside like any barnyard hen and chickens, and +one recalled with amazement the times when stretching themselves on +their claws they would timidly and fearfully crane their necks above +the grass at the sound of an approaching step. + +At present they are not at all sure that man was their worst enemy. +The Government having decreed that there shall be no game shooting in +the army zone, weazels, pole cats and even fox have become very +numerous, and covey of quail that once numbered ten and fifteen, have +singularly diminished by this incursion of wild animals, not to mention +the hawks, the buzzards and the squirrels. + +One Autumn morning I appeared at our gateway just in time to see a +neighbour's wife homeward bound, the corpses of four white hens that +_Maître Renard_ had borrowed from their coop, dangling from her arm. +Her husband heard her coming, and on learning the motive of her wails, +the imprecations brought down on the head of that fox were +picturesquely profane to say the least. Presently the scene grew in +violence, and then finally terminated with the assertion that the whole +tragedy was the result of the Kaiser's having thrown open the German +prisons and turned loose his vampires on France. + +Be that as it may, there was certainly no more enchanting way of +obtaining mental and physical relaxation than in wandering through +those wonderful woodlands that abound in our vicinity, and which +breathed so many inspirations to the Master of Fable, who at one time +was their keeper. How I wish that good La Fontaine might have seen his +dumb friends under present circumstances. What fantasies would he not +have woven about them. + +Season and the temperature were of little importance. There was never +a promenade without an incident--never an incident, no matter how +insignificant, that did not remind me of the peculiar phase under which +every living creature was existing. + +Once in the very early Spring, taking my faithful Boston bull, we stole +away for a constitutional. Suddenly my little companion darted up +close to the hedgerow, and on hurrying to the scene to find out the +cause of this departure from her usual dignified demeanour, I found her +standing face to face with a hare! Both animals, while startled, were +rooted to the spot, gazing at each other in sheer fascination of their +own fearlessness. It was so amazingly odd that I laughed aloud. But +even this did not break the spell. It lasted so long that presently +even I became a little puzzled. Finally it was the hare who settled +the question by calmly moving away, without the slightest sign of +haste, leaving my bull dog in the most comical state of concern that I +have ever seen. + +It was about this time that _Fil-de-Ver_, our donkey, decided to +abandon civilised life in favour of a more roaming career in the woods, +which he doubtless felt was his only true vocation. He had fared ill +at the hands of the Germans, and during the entire Winter our own boys +had used him regularly to haul dead wood. This kind of _kultur_ he +resented distinctly, and resolved to show his disgust by becoming more +independent. + +First he tried it out for a day or two at a time. Then he was gone a +week, and finally he disappeared altogether. + +Being of sociable disposition he joined a little herd of deer which was +the pride and joy of our woods, and one afternoon I came upon this +motley company down by a little lick we had arranged on the brink of a +tiny river that crosses our estate. + +As I approached they all lifted their heads. A baby fawn, frightened, +scurried into the underbrush. But the others let me come quite close, +and then gently, as though to display their nimbleness and grace, +bounded away mid the tender green foliage, gold splashed here and there +by the fast sinking sun. _Fil-de-Fer_ stood a moment undecided. +Presently, lifting his hind legs high into the air he gave vent to a +series of kickings and contortions which might have been taken for a +comical imitation, while a second later as though realising how +ridiculous he had been, he fell to braying with despair, and breaking +into a gallop fled in the direction of his new found friends. + +Simultaneous with _Fil-de-Fer's_ disappearance came the rumour that the +_Loup-garou_ was abroad and was sowing panic in its wake. Just what +kind of animal the _Loup-garou_ might be, was somewhat difficult to +ascertain. No one in our vicinity had ever seen him, and from all I +could gather he seemed to be a strange sort of apocalyptic beast, +gifted with horns, extraordinary force, and the especial enemy of +mankind. + +There was something almost uncanny in the way the peasants would look +at one and lower their voices when speaking of this weird phenomenon, +and presently from having suspected my innocent donkey, I began to +wonder if I were not in the presence of some local popular superstition. + +The rumour was still persistent, when one evening at dark there was an +urgent call from Headquarters asking that we send down for four or five +patients that were destined for our hospital. I do not now recall for +just what reason I went alone, save for a twelve-year-old village lad, +but what I do remember was the respectful moral lecture that I received +from an old peasant woman who met our cart on the high-road just before +we turned off into the Bois du Loup. + +Night, black and starless, was upon us before we had penetrated half a +mile into the woods. My youthful companion began to sing martial airs, +and stimulated his courage by beating time with his feet on the bottom +of the cart. A chill Autumn rain commenced to fall, tinkling against +the rare leaves that now remained on the trees, blinding both horse and +driver, and greatly impeding our progress. Presently I noticed that +our lantern had gone out, and fearing lest we be borne down upon by +some swift moving army truck, I produced a pocket lamp and descended +from my seat. + +A handful of damp matches, much time and good humour were consumed ere +I succeeded in getting a light, and just as I swung the lantern back +into place, the air was pierced by a high-pitched, blood-curdling +shriek! + +_Le Loup_ . . . ! + +At the same moment there was a sharp crackling on the opposite side of +the road, and an instant later a wild boar, followed by her young, +brushed past me and darted into the obscurity. + +My companion was livid. His teeth chattered audibly. He tried to pull +himself together and murmured incoherent syllables. Personally, I was +a bit unnerved, yet somewhat reassured. If my eyes had not deceived +me, the mystery of the _Loup-garou_ was now solved. And yet I felt +quite sure that wild boar were unknown in our region. + +At Château-Thierry I made enquiries and from soldiers and foresters +learned that heretofore inhabitants of the Ardennes forest, these +animals had been driven South when man had chosen to make the firing +line of their haunts; and that, prolific breeders, they were now +practically a menace to the unarmed civilian. From these same lovers +of nature I gathered that for the first time in their recollection +sea-gulls and curlews had likewise been seen on the banks of the Marne. + +While the country now abounds in newcomers, many of the old familiar +birds and animals are rapidly disappearing. + +Larks are rare visitors these days, and the thrush which used to hover +over our vineyards in real flocks, have almost entirely vanished. The +swallows, however, are our faithful friends and have never failed to +return to us. + +Each succeeding Spring their old haunts are in a more or less +dilapidated condition according to the number of successful visits the +German aviators have chosen to pay us during the Winter, and I fancy +that this upsets them a trifle. For hundreds of generations they have +been accustomed to nest in the pinions of certain roofs, to locate in a +determined chimney, and it is a most amusing sight to see them cluster +about a ruined spot and discuss the matter in strident chirpings. + +Last season, after a family consultation, which lasted well nigh all +the morning, and during which they made repeated visits of inspection +to a certain favourite drain pipe, I suddenly saw them all lift wing +and sail away towards the North. My heart sank. Something near and +dear seemed to be slipping from me, and one has said _au revoir_ so oft +in vain. So they too were going to abandon me! + +In one accustomed to daily coping with big human problems, such emotion +may seem trivial, but it was perhaps this constant forced endurance +that kept one up, made one almost supersensitively sentimental. Little +things grew to count tremendously. + +At lunch time I sauntered forth quite sad at heart, when an unexpected +familiar twittering greeted my ear, and I turned northward to see my +little friends circling about the stables. Life closer to the front +had evidently not offered any particular advantages, and in a few days' +time their constant comings and goings from certain specific points +told me that they had come back to stay. + +But if friend swallow may be praised for his fidelity, unfortunately +not so much can be said for another familiar passerby--the wild duck. +October had always seen them flocking southward, and some one of our +household had invariably heard their familiar call, as at daybreak they +would pass over the château on their way from the swamps of the Somme +to the Marais de St. Gond. The moment was almost a solemn one. It +seemed to mark an epoch in the tide of our year. Claude, Benôit, +George and a decrepit gardener would abandon all work and prepare +boats, guns and covers on the Marne. + +Oh, the wonderful still hours just before dawn! Ah, that +indescribable, intense, yet harmonious silence that preceded the +arrival of our prey! + +Alas, all is but memory now. Claude has fallen before Verdun, Benôit +was killed on the Oise, and George has long since been reported missing. + +Alone, unarmed, the old gardener and I again awaited the cry of our +feathered friends, but our waiting, like that of so many others, was in +vain. The wild ducks are a thing of the past. Where have they gone? +No one knows, no one has ever seen them. And in the tense hush of the +Autumn nights, above the distant rumble of the cannon rose only the +plaintive cry of stray dogs baying at the moon. + +Dogs, _mon Dieu_, I wonder how many of those poor, forgotten, abandoned +creatures having strayed into our barnyard were successively washed, +combed, fed, cared for and adopted. + +Some of them, haunted by the spirit of unrest, remained with us but a +moment; others tried us for a day, a week, and still others, +appreciative of our pains, refused to leave at all. + +Oh, the heart rending, lonesome, appealing look in the eyes of a poor +brute that has lost home and master! + +It is thus that I came into possession of an ill tempered French poodle +called _Crapouillot_, which the patients in our hospital insisted on +clipping like a lion with an anklet, a curl over his nose and a puff at +the end of his tail. A most detestable, unfortunate beast, always to +be found where not needed, a ribbon in his hair, and despicably bad +humoured. + +He was succeeded by a Belgian sheep dog, baptised _Namur_, who in time +gave place to one of the most hopelessly ugly mongrels I have ever +seen. But the new comer was so full of life and good will, had such a +comical way of smiling and showing his gleaming white teeth, that in +memory of the joy caused by the Charlie Chaplin films, he was +unanimously dubbed _Charlot_. + +The mere sound of his name would plunge him into ecstasies of joy, +accompanied by the wildest yapping and strange capers, which invariably +terminated by a double somersault in the mud so anxious was he to +convince us of his gratitude. Imagine then what might be obtained by a +caress, or a bowl of hot soup. + +Last in line, but by no means least, was a splendid English pointer, a +superb, finely bred animal, who day in, day out would lie by the open +fire, lost in a profound revery that terminated in a kind of sob. +Poor, melancholy _Mireille_, what master was she mourning? For what +home did she thus pine? How I respected and appreciated her sadness. +How intensely human she became. + +Finally when I could resist no longer I would take her long delicate +head into my hands and gently stroke it, seeking to impart my sympathy. +"I know that you never can be mine," I would murmur, "that you will +ever and eternally belong to him to whom you gave yourself once and +entirely. But these are sad anxious days for us all; we must bear +together. And so as my own dogs have often been my only consolation in +like times of misery and despair, oh, how I would love to comfort +you--beautiful, faithful, disconsolate Mireille!" + + + + +II + +Cities, like people, seem to have souls, deep hidden and rarely ever +entirely revealed. How well must one come to know them, stone by +stone, highways, homes and habitants, ere they will disclose their +secret. I have rejoiced too often in the splendid serenity of St. Jean +des Vignes, felt too deeply the charm of those ancient streets, hoped +and suffered too intensely within its confines that Soissons should not +mean more to me than to the average zealous newspaper correspondent, +come there but to make note of its wounds, to describe its ruins. + +Fair Soissons, what is now your fate? In what state shall we find you? +What ultimate destiny is reserved for your cathedral, your stately +mansions, your magnificent gardens? What has become of those fifteen +or sixteen hundred brave souls who loved you so well that they refused +to leave you? _Qui sait_? + +One arrived at Soissons in war time by long avenues, shaded on either +side by a double row of stately elms, whose centenary branches +stretching upward formed an archway overhead. Then came the last +outpost of Army Police, a sentinel stopped you, minutely examined your +passports, verified their visés, and finally, all formalities +terminated, one entered what might have been the City of Death. + +Moss and weeds had sprung up between the cobble stone pavings; as far +as eye could see not a human soul was astir, not a familiar noise was +to be heard, not a breath of smoke stole heavenwards from those +hundreds of idle chimneys: and yet life, tenacious ardent life was +wonderfully evident here and there. A curtain lifted as one passed, a +cat on the wall, a low distant whistle, clothes drying at a window, a +flowering plant on a balcony, sometimes a door ajar, through which one +guessed a store in whose dimly lighted depths shadows seemed to be +moving about; all these bore witness to an eager, undaunted existence, +hidden for the time being perhaps, but intense and victorious, ready to +spring forward and struggle anew in admirable battles of energy and +conscience. + +The Hotel du Soleil d'Or offered a most hospitable welcome. It was the +only one open or rather, if one would be exact, the only one still +extant. To be sure there were no panes in the windows, and ungainly +holes were visible in almost all the ceilings, but the curtains were +spotlessly white and the bed linen smelled sweet from having been dried +in the open air. + +A most appreciable surprise was the excellent _cuisine_, and as +ornament to the dining-room table, between a pair of tall preserve +dishes, and on either side of the central bouquet, stood an unexploded +German shell. One of them had fallen on to the proprietor's bed, the +second landing in the pantry, while twenty or thirty others had worked +more efficiently, as could be attested by the ruins of the carriage +house, stables, and what had once been a glass covered Winter garden. + +On a door leading out of the office, and curiously enough left intact, +one might read, _Salon de conversation_. If you were to attempt to +cross the threshold, however, your eye would be instantly greeted by a +most abominable heap of plaster and wreckage, and the jovial proprietor +seeing your embarrassment, would explain: + +"My wife and the servants are all for cleaning up, but to my mind it's +better to leave things just as they are. Besides if we put all to +rights now, when our patrons return they will never credit half we tell +them. Seeing is believing! At any rate, it's an out of the way place, +and isn't bothering people for the time being." + +And truly enough this mania for repairing and reconstructing, this +instinct of the active ant that immediately commences to rebuild its +hill, obliterated by some careless foot, has become as characteristic +of the French. + +The Sisters of St. Thomas de Villeneuve, who were in charge of an +immense hospital, had two old masons who might be seen at all times, +trowel in hand, patching up the slightest damage to their buildings; +the local manager of a Dufayel store had become almost a fanatic on the +subject. His stock in trade consisted of furniture, china and crockery +of all kinds, housed beneath a glass roof, which seemed to attract the +Boches' special attention, for during the four years of war just past, +I believe that scarcely a week elapsed during which he was not directly +or indirectly the victim of their fire. + +The effects were most disastrous, but aided by his wife and an elderly +man who had remained in their employ, he would patiently recommence +scrubbing, sweeping and cleaning, carefully reinstating each object or +fragment thereof, in or as near as possible to its accustomed place. + +It was nothing less than miraculous to survey those long lines of +wardrobes that seemed to hold together by the grace of the Almighty +alone; gaze upon whole rows of tables no one of which had the requisite +number of legs; behold mere skeletons of chairs, whose seats or backs +were missing; sofas where gaping wounds displayed the springs; huge +piles of plates each one more nicked or cracked than its predecessor; +series of flower pots which fell to pieces in one's hands if one were +indiscreet enough to touch them. + +"I don't see the point in straightening things out so often"--was my +casual comment. + +"Why, Madame, what on earth would we do about the inventory when peace +comes, if we were not to put a little order into our stock?" was the +immediate reply. + +I was sorry I had spoken. + + +Among the other numerous places of interest was the store of a dealer +in haberdashery and draperies. An honest, well equipped old fashioned +French concern, whose long oak counters were well polished from +constant use. The shelves were piled high with piece after piece of +wonderful material, but not a single one of them had been exempt from +the murderous rain of steel; they were pierced, and pierced, and +pierced again. + +"So pierced that there is not a length sufficient to make even a cap!" +explained Madame L., "but you just can't live in disorder all the time, +and customers wouldn't like to see an empty store. Everything we have +to sell is in the cellar!" + +And true enough this subterranean existence had long ceased to be a +novelty, and had become almost a habit. + +From the basement windows of every inhabited dwelling protruded a stove +pipe, and the lower regions had gradually come to be furnished almost +as comfortably as the upper rooms in normal days. Little by little the +kitchen chair and the candle had given way to a sofa and a hanging +lamp; beds were set up and rugs put in convenient places. + +"We live so close to the trenches that by comparison it seems like a +real paradise to us," gently explained Madame Daumont, the pork +butcher. Her _charcuterie_ renowned far and wide for its hot meat +patès, ready just at noon, had been under constant fire ever since the +invasion, but had never yet failed to produce its customary ovenful at +the appointed hour. + +"At the time of the battle of Crouy," she confessed, "I was just on the +point of shutting up shop and leaving. I'm afraid I was a bit hasty, +but three shells had hit the house in less than two hours, and my old +mother was getting nervous. The dough for my patés was all ready, but +I hesitated. Noon came, and with it my clientèle of Officers. + +"'_Eh bien, nos patés_? What does this mean!' + +"'No, gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I cannot make up my mind to bear it +another day. I'm leaving in a few moments.' + +"'What? Leaving? And we who are going out to meet death have got to +face it on empty stomachs?' + +"They were right. In a second I thought of my own husband out there in +Lorraine. So I said to them 'Come back at four o'clock and they'll be +ready.'" + +And then gently, and as though to excuse herself, she added-- + +"There are moments though when fear makes you lose your head, but there +doesn't seem to be anything you can't get used to." + +"You soon get used to it" was the identical expression of a young +farmer's aid who sold fruit, vegetables and flowers beneath an archway +that had once been the entrance to the Hotel de la Clef. She had +attracted my attention almost immediately, the brilliant colours of her +display, and her pink and white complexion, standing out so fresh and +clear against the background of powder-stained stones and chalky ruin +heaps. + +The next day, after an extra heavy nocturnal bombardment, we went out +in search of a melon. A shell had shattered her impromptu showcase, +dislocated a wall on one side of the archway, which menaced immediate +collapse. In fact, the place had become untenable. + +"Oh, it's such a nuisance to have to look for another sure spot," was +the only lament. "Just see, there's a whole basket of artichokes gone +to waste--and my roses--what a pity!" + +An explosion had gutted the adjacent building leaving an immense breach +opening on to the street from what had once been an office or perhaps a +store-room. + +"Just wait a moment," she pleaded, "until I get set up inside there. +You can't half see what I've got out here." + +Five minutes later I returned and explained the object of my quest. + +"We've only got a very few, Madame, our garden is right in their range, +and we had a whole melon patch destroyed by splinters, only day before +yesterday. I had three this morning, but I sold them all to the +gentleman of the artillery, and I've promised to-morrow's to the +Brigade Officers. I hardly think I shall be able to dispose of any +more before the end of the week. But why don't you go and see 'Père +François'? He might have some." + +"You mean old Père François who keeps the public gardens?" + +"Yes, Madame." + +"Oh, I know him very well. I've often exchanged seeds and slips with +him. Does he still live where he used to?" + +"I believe so." + +We were not long seeking him out, and in response to our knocking his +good wife opened the door. + +"Oh, he's out in his garden," was her reply to our queries. "You can't +keep him away from it. But he's going crazy, I think. He wants to +attend to everything all by himself now. There isn't a soul left to +help him, and he'll kill himself, or be killed at it as sure as I'm +alive. You'll see, the shells won't miss him. He's escaped so far but +he may not always be so lucky. He's already had a steel splinter in +his thumb, and one of them tore a hole in his cap and in his waistcoat. +That's close enough, I should think. But there's no use of my talking; +he just won't listen to me. He's mad about gardening. That's what he +is!" + +On the old woman's assurance that we would find him by pounding hard on +the gateway leading to the Avenue de la Gare, we hastened away, leaving +her to babble her imprecations to a lazy tabby cat who lay sunning +itself in a low window box. + +The old fellow being a trifle deaf we were destined to beat a rather +lengthy tattoo on the high iron gate. But our efforts were crowned +with success, for presently we heard his steps approaching, his sabots +crunching on the gravel path. + +His face lighted up when he saw us. + +"Oh, I remember you, of course I do. You're the lady who used to have +the American sweet peas and the Dorothy Perkins. I know you! And the +dahlias I gave you? How did they turn out?" + +I grew red and sought to change the conversation. Perhaps he saw and +understood. + +"Come and see mine anyway!" + +That sight alone would have made the trip worth while. + +"I cut the grass this very morning so as they'd show off better! +They're so splendid this year that I've put some in the garden at the +Hotel de Ville." + +Further on the _Gloire de Dijon, La France_ and _Maréchal Niels_ spread +forth all their magnificent odorous glory onto the balmy air of this +Isle de France country, whose skies are of such exquisite delicate +blue, whose very atmosphere breathes refinement. + +I felt my old passion rising;--that passion which in times gone by had +drawn us from our sleep at dawn, and scissors and pruning knife in +hand, how many happy hours had H. and I thus spent; he at his fruit +trees, I at my flower beds, cutting, trimming, scraping, clipping; +inwardly conscious of other duties neglected, but held as though +fascinated by the most alluring infatuation in the world--the love of +nature. Here now in this delightful garden kept up by the superhuman +efforts of a faithful old man, the flame kindled anew. + +In an instant H. had discovered the espaliers where _Doyenné du +Cornice_ and _Passe Cressane_ were slowly but surely attaining the +required degree of perfection beneath Père François' attentive care. +As I stood open mouthed in wonder before the largest bush of fuchsias I +had ever yet beheld, an explosion rent the air, quickly followed by a +second, the latter much closer to us. + +"Boche bombs! Come quick," said Père François without seeming in the +least ruffled. + +Led by the old man we hastened to a tiny grotto, in whose depths we +could hear a fountain bubbling. Legion must have been the loving +couples that have visited this spot in times gone by, for their vows of +fidelity were graven in endearing terms on the stony sides of the +retreat. _Léon et Marguerite pour toujours, Alice et Théodore, Georges +et Germaine_ were scrawled above innumerable arrow-pierced hearts. + +"All things considered, I'd rather they'd send us over a shell or two +than bomb us from above!" ejaculated Père François, who spoke from +experience. + +"It was one of those hateful things that hit my Japanese pepper tree on +the main lawn, and killed our only cedar. The handsomest specimen we +had here! It makes me sick every time I throw a log of it on to the +fire in the Winter. I can't tell you how queer it makes me feel. Of +course, it's bad enough for them to kill men who are their enemies, but +think of killing trees that it takes hundreds of years to grow. What +good can that do them?" + +The Boche deemed at a safe distance, we visited the vegetable garden +where we purchased our melon and were presented with any number of +little packets containing seeds. We protested at the old man's +generosity and sought to remunerate him. + +"Nothing of the kind; I wouldn't think of accepting it. It's my +pleasure. Why it's been ages since I had such a talk as this. I'm so +glad you came. So glad for my roses too!" and he started to cut a +splendid bouquet. + +"I've been saying to myself every day," he continued, "Isn't it a pity +that nobody should see them? But now I feel satisfied." + +At the gateway we held out our hands which he took and shook most +heartily, renewing his protestations of delight at our visit, and +begging us to "Come again soon." + +"To be happy one must cultivate his garden," murmured H., quoting +Voltaire as we made off down the road. And within a day or two we +again had an excellent proof of this axiom when we discovered that Abbé +L. still resided in his little home whose garden extended far into the +shadow of St. Jean des Vignes. + +That worthy ecclesiastic gave over every moment that was not employed +in the exercise of his sacred functions to the joys of archaeological +research, and was carefully compiling a history of the churches in the +arrondissement of Soissons and Château-Thierry. He had been our guest +at Villiers, and I remember having made for him an imprint of two +splendid low-relief tombstones which date back to the 15th century, and +were the sole object and ornament of historic interest in our little +village chapel. + +This history was the joy and sole distraction of his entire existence, +and he never ceased collecting documents and photographs, books, plans +and maps, all of which though carefully catalogued, threatened one day +to take such proportions that his modest dwelling would no longer +suffice to hold them. + +We found him comfortably installed behind a much littered kitchen table +in a room that I had heretofore known as his dining room. I was a bit +struck by its disorder, and the good man was obliged to remove several +piles of papers from the chairs before inviting us to be seated. + +"I trust you will forgive this confusion," he begged, "but you see a +shell hit my study yesterday noon, and has forced me to take refuge in +this corner of the house which is certainly far safer." + +"I've had an excellent occasion to work," he continued. "Our duties +are very slight these days, and the extreme quiet in which we live is +most propitious for pursuing the task I have undertaken." + +"But, Monsieur l'Abbé," we cried. "What a paradox! And the +bombardment?" + +"Really, you know, I've hardly suffered from it--except when that shell +struck the house the other morning. Of course, the whole edifice +shook, and at one time I thought the roof was coming through upon my +head. My ink bottle was upset and great streams trickled to the floor. +But Divine intervention saved my precious manuscript which I was in the +very act of copying, and although my notes and files were a bit +disarranged, they were easily sorted and set to rights. So you see +there was nothing really to deplore and God has graciously seen fit to +let me continue my work. It is such a joy to be able to do so." + +Strange placidity! the immediate countryside for miles around having +long since been delivered up to brutal destruction, wanton waste, +hideous massacre, and a goodly number of the churches of which the +pious man was taking so much pains to record the history, were now but +anonymous heaps of stone. + +All the way home I could not refrain from philosophising on the +happiness of life, perfect contentment, and the love of good. My +reflections, while perhaps not particularly deep nor brilliant, were +none the less imbued with a sense of gratitude to the Almighty, and +filled with pity and respect for poor human nature. + +It is certain that for such people, the idea of escaping the terrors, +the dangers and the sight of most horrible spectacles, had not weighed +an instant in the balance against the repugnance of altering life-long +habits, or abandoning an assemblage of dearly beloved landscapes and +faces. + +Naturally enough, a certain number of commercial minded had remained +behind, tempted by the possibility of abnormal gain through catering to +the soldier; and to whatever had been their habitual merchandise, was +soon added a stock of mandolins, accordions, cheap jewelry, kit bags, +fatigue caps and calico handkerchiefs--in fact all that indispensable, +gaudy trumpery that serves to attract a clientèle uniquely composed of +warriors. + +But, besides these merchants, there were still to be counted a certain +number of well-to-do citizens, professors, government employés, priests +and magistrates, all simple honest souls who had stayed because they +were unable to resign themselves to an indefinite residence away from +Soissons, and there was no sacrifice to which they were not resolved in +advance, so long as it procured them the joy of remaining. + +I accompanied the President of the local French Red Cross Chapter on a +visit to a lady who was much interested in an _ouvroir_, and who lived +in a splendid old mansion located near the ruins of the Palais de +Justice. + +The little bell tinkled several times, resounding clearly in the +deathlike silence, and presently a young maid-servant made her +appearance at a small door that opened in the heavy portico. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"Oh, no, Madame! Why didn't Madame know that both Monsieur and Madame +left for the seashore last evening? Shall I give Madame their address +at Houlgate? They've been going there for the last twenty years. They +will be back the first of September as usual." + +"How stupid of me," exclaimed my companion. "I might have known +though. We shall discover what we wish to know from Madame V." + +We found the last mentioned lady and her daughter in a pretty dwelling +on the boulevard Jeanne d'Arc. After presentations and greetings: + +"You are not leaving town this Summer?" + +"Not this season; unfortunately our country house is at present +occupied by the Germans, and as the mountains are forbidden, and the +sea air excites me so that I become quite ill, I fear we shall have to +remain at home, for the time being at least. The garden is really +delightfully cool though--we sit out there and sew all day." + +I asked permission to admire the exquisite embroidered initials which +both mother and daughter were working. + +"I'm so glad you like them. Do you know we found that monogram on an +old 18th century handkerchief? We merely enlarged it, and really feel +that we have something quite unusual. But my table cloths are well +worth it, they were the very last that were left at the Cour Batave. I +doubt if any finer quality will ever be woven." + +"Your daughter will have a wonderful trousseau." + +"She will have something durable at least, Madame, a trousseau that +will stand the test of time and washing," replied the good mother +smiling blandly, touched by my appreciation. + +"I still have sheets which came down to me from my great grand-mother, +and I hope that my own great grand-sons will some day eat from this +very cloth." + +"But they will never guess under what strange circumstances it was +hemmed and embroidered," gently proffered the young girl raising her +big blue eyes and smiling sweetly. + +"Bah, what difference does that make so long as they are happy and can +live in peace? That's the principal thing, the one for which we're all +working, isn't it?" + +Such is the spirit that pervades all France. It is simple, +undemonstrative heroism, the ardent desire of a race to last in spite +of all. What more imperturbable confidence in its immortality could be +manifested than by this mother and daughter calmly discussing the +durability of their family linen, within actual range of Teuton gunfire +that might annihilate them at any moment? + +As we were about to leave Monsieur S. came up the front steps. He had +been out in company of a friend, making his habitual daily tour of the +city. Like most middle aged, well-to-do bourgeois his attire was +composed of a pair of light trousers, slightly baggy at the knee, and a +bit flappy about the leg; a black cutaway jacket and a white piqué +waistcoat. This classic costume usually comports a panama hat and an +umbrella. Now Monsieur S. had the umbrella, but in place of the panama +he had seen fit to substitute a blue steel soldier's helmet, which +amazing military headgear made a strange combination with the remainder +of his civilian apparel. Nevertheless he bowed to us very skilfully, +and at that moment I caught sight of a leather strap, which slung over +one shoulder, hung down to his waist and carried his gas mask. + +[Illustration: MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK] + +For several days I laboured under the impression that this mode was +quite unique, but was soon proved mistaken, for on going to the Post +Office to get my mail (three carriers having been killed, there were no +longer any deliveries) I discovered that it was little short of +general. Several ladies had even dared risk the helmet, and the whole +assembly took on a war like aspect that was quite apropos. + +Thus adorned, the octogenarian Abbé de Villeneuve, his umbrella swung +across his back, his cassock tucked up so as to permit him to ride a +bicycle, was a sight that I shall never forget. + +"Why, Monsieur le Curé, you've quite the air of a sportsman." + +"My child, let me explain. You see I can no longer trust to my legs, +they're too old and too rheumatic. Well then, when a bombardment sets +in how on earth could I get home quickly without my bicycle?" + +As visitors to the front, we were guests of the French Red Cross +Society while in Soissons. The local president, whose deeds of heroism +have astonished the world at large, is an old-time personal friend. + +A luncheon in our honour was served on a spotless cloth, in the only +room of that lady's residence which several hundred days of constant +bombardment had still left intact. Yet, save for the fact that paper +had replaced the window panes, nothing betrayed the proximity of the +German. Through the open, vine grown casement, I could look out onto a +cleanly swept little court whose centre piece of geraniums was a +perfect riot of colour. + +Around the congenial board were gathered our hostess, the old Curé de +St. Vast, the General in command of the Brigade, his Colonel, three +Aides-de-Camp, my husband and myself. + +Naturally, the topic of conversation was the war, but strange as it may +seem, it was we, the civilians, that were telling our friends of the +different activities that were afoot and would eventually bring the +United States to the side of the Allies. + +Towards the middle of the repast our enemies began sending over a few +shells and presently a serious bombardment was under way. Yet no one +stirred. + +Dishes were passed and removed, and though oft times I personally felt +that the pattering of shrapnel on the tin roof opposite was +uncomfortably close, I was convinced there was no theatrical display of +bravery, no cheap heroism in our companions' unconsciousness. They +were interested in what was being said--_voilà tout_. + +Presently, however, our hostess leaned towards me and I fancied she was +about to suggest a trip cellarward, instead of which she whispered that +on account of the bombardment we were likely to go without dessert +since it had to come from the other side of town and had not yet +arrived. + +Then a shell burst quite close, and at the same time the street bell +rang. The _cordon_ was pulled, and through the aperture made by the +backward swing of the great door, I caught sight of a ruddy cheeked, +fair haired maiden in her early teens, bearing a huge bowl of fresh +cream cheese in her outstretched hands. + +Steadily she crossed the court, approached the window where she halted, +smiled bashfully, set down her precious burden, and timidly addressing +our hostess: + +"I'm sorry, Madame," said she, "so sorry if I have made you wait." + +And so it goes. + +I remember a druggist who on greeting me exclaimed: + +"A pretty life, is it not, for a man who has liver trouble?" And yet +he remained simply because it was a druggist's duty to do so when all +the others are mobilised. + +There was also the printer of a local daily, who continued to set up +his type with one side of his shop blown out; who went right on +publishing when the roof caved in, and who actually never ceased doing +so until the whole structure collapsed, and a falling wall had +demolished his only remaining press. + +Monsieur le Préfet held counsel and deliberated in a room against whose +outside wall one could hear the constant patter of machine gun bullets +raining thick from the opposite bank of the river. Monsieur Muzart, +the Mayor, seemed to be everywhere at once, and was always the first on +the spot when anything really serious occurred. + +Add to these the little dairy maids, who each morning fearlessly +delivered the city's milk; or the old fellow on whom had devolved the +entire responsibility of the street-cleaning department and who went +about, helmet clad, attending to his chores, now and then shouting a +hearty "_Whoa Bijou_" to a faithful quadruped who patiently dragged his +dump cart, and over whose left ear during the entire Summer, was tied a +bunch of tri-colour field flowers. + +I had almost forgotten to mention two extraordinary old women, whom I +came upon seated out in a deserted street, making over a mattress, +while gently discussing their private affairs. It was the end of a +warm July afternoon. A refreshing coolness had begun to rise from the +adjacent river, and in the declining sunlight I could see great swarms +of honey bees hovering about a climbing rose bush whose fragrant +blossoms hung in huge clusters over the top of a convent wall near by. +I could not resist the temptation. Pressed by the desire to possess I +stepped forward and was about to reach upward when a masculine voice, +whose owner was hidden somewhere near my elbow called forth: + +"Back, I say! Back! you're in sight!" + +I quickly dived into the shadow for cover just in time to hear the +bullets from a German machine gun whizz past my ear! + +"You can trust them to see everything," murmured one of the old women, +not otherwise disturbed. "But if you really want some roses just go +around the block and in by the back gate, Madame." + +How in the presence of such calm can we believe in war? + +Ah, France! elsewhere perhaps there may be just as brave--but surely +none more sweetly! + + + + +III + +The little village was just behind the lines. The long stretch of +roadway, that following the Aisne finally passed through its main +street, had been so thoroughly swept by German fire that it was as +though pockmarked by ruts and shell holes, always half full of muddy +water. + +A sign to the left said-- + + _Chemin, défilé de V._-- + + +There could be no choice; there was but to follow the direction +indicated, branch out onto a new highway which, over a distance of two +or three miles, wound in and out with many strategic contortions; a +truly military route whose topography was the most curious thing +imaginable. If by accident there happened to be a house in its way it +didn't take the trouble to go _around_, but _through_ the edifice. + +One arrived thus in the very midst of the village, having involuntarily +traversed not only the notary's flower garden, but also his +drawing-room, if one were to judge by the quality of the now much faded +wall paper, and the empty spots where portraits used to hang. + +The township had served as target to the German guns for many a long +month, and was seriously _amoché_, as the saying goes. "Coal scuttles" +by the hundred had ripped the tiles from almost every roof. Huge +breaches gaped in other buildings, while some of them were completely +levelled to the ground. Yet, in spite of all, moss, weeds and vines +had sprung up mid the ruins, adding, if possible, the picturesque to +this scene of desolation. One robust morning glory I noted had climbed +along a wall right into the soot of a tumble-down chimney, and its +fairylike blossoms lovingly entwined the iron bars whereon had hung and +been smoked many a succulent ham. + +The territorials (men belonging to the older army classes), had +installed their mess kitchens in every convenient corner: some in the +open court-yards and others beneath rickety stables and sheds, where +the sunlight piercing the gloom caught the dust in its rays and made it +seem like streams of golden powder, whose brightness enveloped even the +most sordid nooks and spread cheer throughout the dingy atmosphere. + +Fatigue squads moved up and down the road, seeking or returning with +supplies, while those who were on duty, pick and shovel in hand, moved +off to their work in a casual, leisurely manner one would hardly term +military. + +Of civilians there remained but few. Yet civilians there were, and of +the most determined nature: "hangers-on" who when met in this vicinity +seemed almost like last specimens of an extinct race, sole survivors of +the world shipwreck. + +At the moment of our arrival an old peasant woman was in the very act +of scolding the soldiers, who to the number of two hundred and fifty (a +whole company) filled to overflowing her modest lodgings, where it +seemed to me half as many would have been a tight squeeze. It was +naturally impossible for her to have an eye on all of them. In her +distress she took me as witness to her trials. + +"Just see," she vociferated, "they trot through my house with their +muddy boots, they burn my wood, they're drying up my well, and on top +of it all they persist in smoking in my hay-loft, and the hay for next +Winter is in! Shouldn't you think their Officers would look after +them? Why, I have to be a regular watch-dog, I do!" + +"That's all very well, mother," volunteered a little dried up Corporal. +"But how about _their_ incendiary shells? You'll get one of them +sooner or later. See if you don't!" + +"If it comes, we'll take it; we've seen lots worse than that! Humph! +That's no reason why you should mess up a house that belongs to your +own people, is it? I'd like to know what your wife would say if she +caught you smoking a pipe in her hay loft?" + +Shouts of laughter from the culprits. Then a tall, lean fellow, taking +her side, called out: + +"She's right, boys, she had a hard enough job getting the hay in all by +herself. Put out your pipes since that seems to get on her nerves. +Now then, mother, there's always a way of settling a question between +honest people. We won't smoke in your hay any more; that is, provided +you'll sell us fresh vegetables for our mess." + +The old woman was trapped and had to surrender, which she did, but most +ungraciously, all the while moaning that she would more than likely die +of starvation the following Winter. So a moment later the group +dispersed on hearing the news that the "Auto-bazaar" had arrived. + +This auto-bazaar certainly contained more treasures than were ever +dreamed of in ancient Golconda. There was everything the soldier's +heart might desire, from gun grease and cigarette paper down to wine +and provisions; the whole stored away in a literal honey-comb of +shelves and drawers with which the sides were lined. + +The men all hurried forward. Loaded with water bottles, their hands +full of coppers, they clustered about it. + +From his dominating position at the rear end of the truck, the +store-keeper announced: + +"No more pork pie left!" + +This statement brought forth several indignant oaths from the +disappointed. + +"It's always that way, they're probably paid to play that joke on us. +It was the same story last time! We'll send in a complaint. See if we +don't." + +But these grumblings were soon outvoiced by the announcement-- + +"Plenty of head-cheese and camembert. Now then! boys, who's ready?" + +The effect was instantaneous. + +Smiles broke out on every countenance. The good news was quickly +spread abroad, and presently the sound of plates and dishes, clinking +cups, and joyful laughter recalled a picnic which we had organised in +the vicinity, one warm July afternoon some four years ago. + +A military band rehearsing a march in an open field just behind us +added life and gaiety to the scene, and reminded me of the +"Merry-go-round," the chief attraction of that defunct country fair, +and upon which even the most dignified of our friends had insisted +riding. + +After all, could it be possible that this was the very midst of war? +Was it such a terrible thing, since the air fairly rung with merriment? + +"Make room there," called a gruff voice, not far distant. + +"Stand aside! Quick now!" + +The crowd parted, and a couple of stretcher bearers with their sad +human burden put an end to my soliloquy. My afternoon was stained with +blood. On their litter they bore a lad whose bloodless lips, +fluttering eyelids, and heaving breast, bespoke unutterable suffering. + +One must have actually witnessed such sights to realise the enormity of +human agony, grasp the torment that a stupid bit of flying steel can +inflict upon a splendid human frame--so well, so happy, so full of hope +but a second since. Oh, the pity of it all! + +"Who is it?" the men whisper. + +"Belongs to the 170th. They replaced us. He was caught in the _Boyau +des Anglais_." + +"That's a wicked spot, that is!" + +"Is he one of ours?" questioned a man from an upper window, stopping an +instant in the act of polishing his gun. + +"No," answers some one. + +The enquirer recommenced his work, and with it the refrain of his song, +just where he had left off. + +"_Sur les bords de la Riviera_," sang he blithely. + +Little groups formed along the wayside. Seated on the straw they +finished their afternoon meal, touching mugs, and joking together. +Near them the artillerymen greased and verified their axles; others +brushed and curried the horses. In one spot a hair dresser had set up +his tonsorial parlor in the open, and his customers formed in line +awaiting their turns. + +Further on the _permissionaires_ blacked their boots and furbished +their raiment, making ready to leave for home. Swarms of humming birds +and bees clustered about a honeysuckle vine which clung to the +fragments of a fence near by, and whose fragrance saturated the air. + +The friend, whose regiment number we had recognised, and stopped to +see, came up from behind and touched me on the shoulder. + +"Well, of all things! What on earth are you doing here?" + +We explained our mission, and then inquired about mutual acquaintances. + +"Pistre? Why he's with the munitions in the 12xth. We'll go over and +see him. It's not far. But hold on a minute, isn't Lorrain a friend +of yours?" + +We acquiesced. + +"Well, his son's my lieutenant. I'll go and get him. He'd be too +sorry to miss you." + +He disappeared and a few moments later returned followed by his +superior, a handsome little nineteen year old officer, who came running +up, his pipe in his mouth, his drinking cup still in his hand. The lad +blushed scarlet on seeing us, for he doubtless recalled, as did I, the +times not long gone by, when I used to meet him at a music teacher's, +his long curls hanging over his wide sailor collar. + +The idea that this mere infant should have command over such a man as +our friend Nourrigat, double his age, and whose life of work and +struggle had been a marvel to us all, somewhat shocked me. + +I think the little chap felt it, for he soon left us, pleading that he +must be present at a conference of officers. + +"A brave fellow and a real man," commented Nourrigat, as the boy moved +away. "His whole company has absolute confidence in him. You can't +imagine the calm and prestige that kid possesses in the face of danger. +He's the real type of leader, he is! And let me tell you, he's pretty +hard put sometimes." + +And then in a burst of genuine enthusiasm, he continued: + +"It's wonderful to be under twenty, with a smart little figure, a +winsome smile, and a gold stripe on your sleeve. The women willingly +compare you to the Queen's pages, or Napoleon's handsome hussars. That +may be all very well in a salon, or in the drawings you see in 'La Vie +Parisienne,' but it takes something more than that to be a true +officer. He's got to know the ropes at playing miner, bombarder, +artilleryman, engineer, optician, accountant, caterer, undertaker, +hygienist, carpenter, mason--I can't tell you what all. And in each +particular job he's got to bear the terrible responsibility of human +lives; maintain the discipline and the moral standard, assure the +cohesion of his section. Moreover, he's called upon to receive orders +with calm and reserve under the most difficult and trying +circumstances, must grasp them with lightning speed and execute them +according to rules and tactics. A moment of hesitancy or +forgetfulness, and he is lost. The men will no longer follow him. I +tell you it isn't everybody that's born to be a leader!" + +"But, was he educated for the career?" we questioned. + +"I don't think so. I imagine he's just waiting for the end of the war +to continue his musical studies--that is if he comes out alive." + +"And you?" + +"I? Why I've no particular ambition. I suppose I could have gone into +the Camouflage Corps if I'd taken the trouble to ask. But what's the +use of trying to shape your own destiny?" + +"You've gotten used to this life?" + +"Not in the least. I abominate and adore it all in the same breath. +Or, to be more explicit, I admire the men and abhor the military +pictures, the thrilling and sentimental ideas of the warrior with which +the civilian head is so generously crammed. I love military servitude, +and the humble life of the men in the ranks, but I have a genuine +horror of heroes and their sublimity. + +"Just look over there," he went on, waving his hand towards a long line +of seated _poilus_ who were peacefully enjoying their pipes, while +wistfully watching the smoke curl upward. "Just look at them, aren't +they splendid? Why they've got faces like the 'Drinkers' in the +Velasquez picture. See that little fellow rolling his cigarette? +Isn't he the image of the Bacchus who forms the centre of the painting? +That's Brunot, and he's thinking about all the god-mothers whose +letters swell out his pockets. He can't make up his mind whether he +prefers the one who lives in Marseilles and who sent him candied +cherries and her photograph; or the one from Laval who keeps him well +supplied with devilled ham which he so relishes. The two men beside +him are Lemire and Lechaptois--both peasants. When they think, it's +only of their farms and their wives. That other little thin chap is a +Parisian bookkeeper. I'd like to bet that he's thinking of his wife, +and only of her. He's wondering if she's faithful to him. It's almost +become an obsession. I've never known such jealousy, it's fairly +killing him. + +"That man Ballot, just beyond"--and our friend motioned up the +line--"that man Ballot would give anything to be home behind his +watch-maker's stand. In a moment or so he'll lean over and begin a +conversation with his neighbour Thevenet. They've only one topic, and +it's been the same for two years. It's angling. They haven't yet +exhausted it. + +"All of them at bottom are heartily wishing it were over; they've had +enough of it. But they're good soldiers, just as before the war they +were good artisans. The _métier_ is sacred--as are the Family and +Duty. 'The Nation, Country, Honour' are big words for which they have +a certain repugnance. + +"'That's all rigmarole that somebody hands you when you've won the +Wooden Cross and a little garden growing over your tummy,' is the way +they put it in their argot. 'The Marseillaise, the Chant du Depart are +all right for the youngsters, and the reviews--and let me tell you, the +reviews take a lot of furbishing and make a lot of dust. That's all +they really amount to.' + +"When they sing, it's eternally 'The Mountaineers' who, as you know, +are always 'there,' 'Sous les Ponts de Paris,' 'Madelon' and other +sentimental compositions, and if by accident, in your desire to please, +you were prone to compare them to the heroes of Homer, it's more than +likely your pains would be rewarded by the first missile on which they +could lay their hands and launch in your direction. They will not +tolerate mockery. + +"No"--he went on, filling his pipe, and enunciating between each puff. +"No, they are neither supermen nor heroes; no more than they are +drunkards or foul mouthed blackguards. No, they are better than all +that--they are men, real men, who do everything they do well; be it +repairing a watch, cabinet-making, adding up long columns of figures or +peeling potatoes, mounting guard, or going over the top! They do the +big things as though they were small, the small things as though they +were big! + +"Two days ago the captain sent for two men who had been on patrol duty +together. He had but one decoration to bestow and both chaps were in +hot discussion as to who should _not_ be cited for bravery. + +"'Now, boys, enough of this,' said the captain. 'Who was leading, and +who first cut the German barbed wire?' + +"'Dubois.' + +"'Well then, Dubois, what's all this nonsense? The cross is yours.' + +"'No, sir, if you please, that would be idiotic! I'm a foundling, +haven't any family. What's a war cross more or less to me? Now Paul +here keeps a café; just think of the pleasure it will give his +clientèle to see him come back decorated.' + +"The captain who knows his men, understood Dubois' sincerity, and so +Paul got the medal. + +"I believe it was Peguy who said that 'Joan of Arc' has the same +superiority over other saints, as the man who does his military service +has over those who are exempt.' But it's only the soldiers who really +understand that, and when they say _On les aura_, it means something +more from their lips, than when uttered by a lady over her tea-cups, or +a reporter in his newspaper." + +During this involuntary monologue we had strolled along the road which +Nourrigat had originally indicated as the direction of our friend +Pistre. Presently he led us into the church, a humble little village +sanctuary. A shell had carried away half the apse, and sadly damaged +the altar. The belfry had been demolished and the old bronze bell +split into four pieces had been carefully fitted together by some +loving hand, and stood just inside the doorway. + +St. Anthony of Padua had been beheaded, and of St. Roch there remained +but one foot and half his dog. Yet, a delightful sensation of peace +and piety reigned everywhere. From the confessional rose the murmur of +voices, and the improvised altar was literally buried beneath garlands +of roses. + +In what had once been a chapel, a soldier now sat writing. His note +books were spread before him on a table, a telephone was at his elbow. + +Chalk letters on a piece of broken slate indicate that this is the +"_Bureau de la 22e_." + +An old bent and withered woman, leaning on a cane, issued from this +office-chapel as we approached. + +"Why that's mother Tesson," exclaimed Nourrigat. "Good evening, +mother; how's your man to-day?" + +"Better, sir. Much better, thank you. They've taken very good care of +him at your hospital." + +The old couple had absolutely refused to evacuate their house. The +Sous-Prefet, the Prefet, all the authorities had come and insisted, but +to no avail. + +"We've lost everything," she would explain. "Our three cows, our +chickens, our pigs. Kill us if you like, but don't force us to leave +home. We worked too hard to earn it!" + +And so they had hung on as an oyster clings to its rock. One shell had +split their house in twain, another had flattened out the hayloft. The +old woman lay on her bed crippled with rheumatism, her husband a victim +of gall stones. Their situation was truly most distressing. + +But there were the soldiers. Not any special company or +individual--but the soldiers, the big anonymous mass--who took them in +charge and passed them on from one to another. + +"We leave father and mother Tesson to your care," was all they said to +the new comers as they departed. But that was sufficient, and so the +old couple were nursed, clothed and fed by those whom one would suppose +had other occupations than looking after the destitute. + +[Illustration: A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT] + +Three times the house was brought to earth. Three times they rebuilt +it. The last time they even put in a stove so that the old woman would +not have to bend over to reach her hearth. New beds were made and +installed, the garden dug and planted. The old man was operated upon +at the Division Hospital, and when he became convalescent they shared +the contents of their home packages with him. + +Who were they? This one or that one? Mother Tesson would most surely +have been at a loss to name the lad who returned from his furlough +bringing two hens and a rooster to start her barnyard. She vaguely +remembered that he was from the south, on account of his accent, and +that he must have travelled across all France with his cage of chickens +in his hand. + +They entered her home, smoked a pipe by her fireside, helped her to +wash the dishes or shell peas; talked a moment with her old man and +left, saying _au revoir_. + +Another would come back greeting her with a cordial "_Bonjour, mère +Tesson_." + +"Good day, my son," she would reply. + +And it was this constantly changing new found son who would chop wood, +draw water from the well, write a letter that would exempt them from +taxes, or make a demand for help from the American Committees. + +Thus the aged pair had lived happily, loved and respected, absolutely +without want, and shielded from all material worry. And when some poor +devil who has spent four sleepless nights in the trenches, on his +return steals an hour or two from his well earned, much craved sleep, +in order to hoe their potato patch, one would doubtless be astonished +to hear such a man exclaim by way of excuse for his conduct-- + +"Oh, the poor old souls! Just think of it! At their age. What a +pity." + + +We found Pistre making a careful toilet with the aid of a tin pail full +of water. + +"This is a surprise, on my soul!" + +We hastened to give him news of his family and friends. + +Presently he turned towards Nourrigat. + +"How about your regiment? Stationary?" + +"I fancy so. We were pretty well thinned out. We're waiting for +reinforcements." + +"What's become of Chenu, and Morlet and Panard?" + +"Gone! all of them." + +"Too bad! They were such good fellows!" + +And our friends smiled, occupied but with the thought of the living +present. Paris, their friends, their families, their professions, all +seemed to be forgotten, or completely over-shadowed by the habitual +daily routine of marches and halts, duties and drudgery. They were no +longer a great painter and a brilliant barrister. They were two +soldiers; two atoms of that formidable machine which shall conquer the +German; they were as two monks in a monastery--absolutely oblivious to +every worldly occupation. + +We understand, we feel quite certain that they will be ours again--but +later--when this shall all be over--if God spares them to return. + +At that same instant two boys appeared at the entrance to the +courtyard. They may have been respectively ten and twelve years of +age. The perspiration trickled from their faces, and they were bending +beneath the weight of a huge bundle each carried on his back. + +"Hello, there, fellows," called one of them. + +A soldier appeared on the threshold. + +"Here Lefranc--here are your two boxes of sardines, and your snuff. +There isn't any more plum jam to be had. Oh, yes, and here's your +writing paper." + +The child scribbled something in an old account book. + +"That makes fifty-three sous," he finally announced. + +Other soldiers now came up. + +The boys were soon surrounded by a group of eager gesticulating +_poilus_. + +"Oh, shut up, can't you? How can a fellow think if you all scream at +once? Here--Mimile"--and he turned to his aid. "Don't you give 'em a +thing." + +Then the tumult having subsided, he continued-- + +"Now then, your names, one at a time--and don't muddle me when I'm +trying to count!" + +Pistre quickly explained that this phenomenon was Popaul called +"Business"--and Mimile, his clerk, both sons of a poor widow who washed +for the soldiers. In spite of his tender years "Business" had +developed a tendency for finance that bespoke a true captain of +industry. He had commenced by selling the men newspapers, and then +having saved enough to buy first one and then a second bicycle, the +brothers went twice a day to Villers Cotterets, some fifteen miles +distant, in quest of the orders given them by the soldiers. At first +the dealers tried to have this commerce prohibited, but as the lads +were scrupulously honest, and their percentage very modest, the +Commandant not only tolerated, but protected them. + +Mimile was something of a Jonah, having twice been caught by bits of +shrapnel, which necessitated his being cared for at the dressing +station. + +"All his own fault too," exclaimed Business, shrugging his shoulders. +"He's no good at diving. Doesn't flatten out quick enough. Why I used +to come right over the road last Winter when the bombardment was on +full tilt. I was then working for the Legion and the Chasseurs. No +cinch let me tell you! It used to be--'Popaul here--Popaul +there--where's my tobacco? How about my eau-de-Cologne?' There wasn't +any choice with those fellows. It was furnish the goods or bust--and I +never lost them a sou's worth of merchandise either!" + +Business knew everything and everybody; all the tricks of the trade, +all the tricks of the soldiers. He had seen all the Generals, and all +the Armies from the British to the Portuguese. + +He had an intimate acquaintance with all the different branches of +warfare, as well as a keen memory for slang and patois. He nourished +but one fond hope in his bosom--a hope which in moments of expansion he +imparts, if he considers you worthy of his confidence. + +"In four years I'll volunteer for the aviation corps." + +"In four years? That's a long way off, my lad. That's going some, I +should say," called a _poilu_ who had overheard the confession. + +"Look here, Business, did I hear you say it won't be over in four +years?" asked another. + +"Over? Why, it'll have only just begun. It was the Americans on the +motor trucks who told me so, and I guess they ought to know!" + +We watched him distribute his packages, make change and take down his +next day's orders, in a much soiled note-book, and with the aid of a +stubby pencil which he was obliged to wet every other letter. When he +had finished a soldier slipped over towards him. + +"I say, Paul," he called out to him, "would you do us the honour of +dining with us? We've got a package from home. Bring your brother +with you." + +Business was touched to the quick. + +"I'm your man," he answered. "And with pleasure. But you must let me +furnish the _aperatif_." + +"Just as you say, old man." + +Brusquely turning about, the future tradesman sought for his clerk who +had disappeared. + +"Mimile," he shouted, "Mimile, I say, run and tell mamma to iron our +shirts and put some polish on our shoes. I'll finish to-day's job by +myself." + + + + +IV + +Not satisfied with the havoc wrought in Soissons and other cities of +the front, the Boche is now trying to encircle the head of Paris with +the martyr's crown. The capital, lately comprised in the army zone, +has been called upon to pay its blood tax, and like all the other +heroic maimed and wounded, has none the less retained its good humour, +its confidence and its serenity. + +"It will take more than that to prevent us from going to the cafés," +smiled an old Parisian, shrugging his shoulders. + +And this sentiment was certainly general if one were to judge by the +crowd who literally invaded the _terrasses_ between five and seven, and +none of whom seemed in the least preoccupied or anxious. + +_Aperatifs_ have long since ceased to be anything save pleasant +remembrances--yet the custom itself has remained strong as a tradition. +Absinthes, bitters and their like have not only been abolished, but +replaced--and by what? Mineral waters, fruit syrups and tea! + +The waiters have been metamorphosed into herbalists. Besides, what am +I saying, there are really no more waiters, save perhaps a few decrepit +specimens whom flatfoot has relegated beyond the name, their waddling +so strangely resembles that of ducks. All the others are serving--at +the front. + +From my seat I could see two ferocious looking, medal bespangled +warriors ordering, the one a linden flower and verbena, the other +camomile with mint leaf. And along with the cups, saucers and +tea-pots, the waiter brought a miniature caraffe, which in times gone +by contained the brandy that always accompanied an order of coffee. At +present its contents was extract of orange flower! + +There may be certain smart youth who brag about having obtained kirsch +for their _tilleul_, or rum in their tea, but such myths are scarcely +credited. + +Naturally there is the grumbling element who claim that absinthe never +hurt any one, and cite as example the painter Harpignies, who lived to +be almost a hundred, having absorbed on the average of two a day until +the very last. + +But all have become so accustomed to making sacrifices that even this +one is passed off with a smile. What can one more or less mean now? +Besides, the women gave up pastry, didn't they? + +One joked the first time one ordered an infusion or a lemon vichy, one +was even a bit disgusted at the taste. And then one got used to it, +the same as one is ready to become accustomed to anything; to trotting +about the darkened streets, to going to bed early, to getting along +without sugar, and even to being bombed. + +There is a drawing by Forain which instantly obtained celebrity, and +which represents two French soldiers talking together in the trenches. + +"If only they're able to stick it out!" + +"Who?" + +"The civilians!" + +And now at the end of four long years it may be truly said of the +civilian that he has "seen it through." Not so gloriously, perhaps, +but surely quite as magnificently as his brothers at the front. + +In a country like France, where all men must join the army, the +left-behind is not an indifferent being; he is a father, a brother, a +son, or a friend; he is that feverish creature who impatiently waits +the coming of the postman, who lives in a perpetual state of agony, +trembles for his dear ones, and at the same time continues his +business, often doubling, even trebling his efforts so as to replace +the absent, and still has sufficient sense of humour to remark: + +"In these days when every one is a soldier, it's a hard job to play the +civilian." + +Last summer an American friend said to me: + +"Of course, there are some changes, but as I go about the streets day +in and day out, it hardly seems as though Paris were conscious of the +war. It is quite unbelievable." + +But that very same evening when slightly after eleven, Elizabeth and I +sauntered up the darkened, deserted Faubourg St. Honoré-- + +"Think," she said, catching my arm, "just think that behind each and +every one of those façades there is some one suffering, hoping, +weeping, perhaps in secret! Think of the awful moment when all the +bells shall solemnly toll midnight, every stroke resounding like a +dirge in the souls of those who are torn with anxiety, who crave +relief, and patiently implore a sleep that refuses to come." + +The soldiers know it, know but too well the worth of all the energies +expended without thought of glory; appreciate the value of that +stoicism which consists in putting on a bold front and continuing the +every-day life, without betraying a trace of sorrow or emotion. + +Many a husband is proud of his wife, many a brother of his sister, and +many a son of his father and his mother. + +Even those, who all things considered would seem the farthest from the +war, suffer untold tortures. How often last autumn did H. and I pay +visits to old artist friends, men well into the sixties with no +material worries, and no one at the front; only to find them alone in +one corner of their huge studios, plunged in profound reveries, and +utterly unconscious of the oncoming night, or the rain that beat +against the skylights. + +"I know, I know, it's all very well to shake yourself and say you must +work. It's easy enough to recall that in 1870 Fantin Latour shut +himself up and painted fruit and flowers, and by emulation, buoyed up +perhaps by this precedent, you sit down and sketch a still life. What +greater joy than to seek out a harmony, find the delicate suave tones, +and paint it in an unctuous medium. Yes, it's a joy, but only when +head and heart are both in it! The museums too, used to be a source of +untold pleasure, but even if they were open you wouldn't go, because +the head and the heart are 'Out there' where that wondrous youth is +being mowed down--'Out there' where lies our every hope, 'Out there' +where we would like to be, all of us! 'Tis hardly the moment to paint +ripe grapes and ruddy apples, and to feel that you're only good for +that! It's stupid to be old!" + +And many, many a dear old man has passed away, unnoticed. When one +asks the cause of a death friends shrug their shoulders, + +"We scarcely know, some say one thing, some another--perhaps the war!" + +"In proportion you'll find that there are as many deaths on the +Boulevard as in the trenches," said our friend, Pierre Stevens, on +returning from Degas' funeral. + +I would you might go with me, all you who love France, into one of +those Parisian houses, where after dinner when the cloth has been +removed, the huge road maps are spread out on the dining-room table, +and every one eagerly bends over them with bated breath, while the +latest _communiqué_ is read. Fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and +little children, friends and relatives, solemnly, anxiously await the +name of their _secteurs_--the _secteurs_ where _their_ loved ones are +engaged. How all the letters are read, re-read and handed about, each +one seeking a hidden sense, the meaning of an allusion; how dark grows +every brow when the news is not so good--what radiant expanse at the +word victory. + +And through fourteen hundred long days this same scene has been +repeated, and no one has ever quailed. + +The theatres have cellars prepared to receive their audiences in case +of bombardment, and one of our neighbours, Monsieur Walter, has just +written asking permission in my absence to build an armoured dug-out in +the hallway of my home. + +"It is precisely the organisation of this dugout that prompts my +writing to you, _chère Madame_. + +"So much bronchitis and so many other ills have been contracted in +cellars, that I hesitate to take my children down there; but on the +other hand, I dare not leave them upstairs, where they would be +altogether too exposed. It is thus that I conceived the idea of asking +your permission to transform into a sort of 'Dug-out dormitory'--(if I +may be permitted the expression) the little passage way, which in your +house separates the dining-room from the green room. To have something +absolutely safe, it would be necessary to give the ceiling extra +support, then set steel plates in the floor of the little linen room +just above and sandbag all the windows. + +"Naturally, I have done nothing pending your consent. Useless to say, +we will put everything in good order if you return, unless you should +care to use the dug-out yourself. My wife and I shall anxiously await +your reply." + +And this in Paris, June 28th, 1918! + + +I do not know what particular epoch in world war events served as +inspiration to the author of a certain ditty, now particularly popular +among the military. But decidedly his injunction to + + "Pack all your troubles in an old kit bag, + And smile, smile, smile," + +has been followed out to the letter, in the case of the Parisian, who +has also added that other virtue "Patience" to his already long list of +qualities. + +With the almost total lack of means of communication, a dinner downtown +becomes an expedition, and a theatre party a dream of the future. + +During the Autumn twilights, on the long avenues swept by the rain, or +at street corners where the wind seizes it and turns it into miniature +water spouts, one can catch glimpses of the weary, bedraggled Parisian, +struggling beneath a rebellious umbrella, patiently waiting for a cab. +He has made up his mind to take the first that goes by. There can be +no question of discrimination. Anything will be welcome. Yes, +anything, even one of those evil-smelling antiquated hackneys drawn by +a decrepit brute who will doubtless stumble and fall before having +dragged you the first five hundred yards, thereby bringing down the +pitiless wrath of his aged driver, not only on his own, but your head. + +Taxis whizz by at a rate which leads one to suppose that they had a +rendezvous with dame Fortune. Their occupants are at the same time +objects of envy and admiration, and one calls every latent cerebral +resource to his aid, in order to guess where on earth they were to be +found empty. And how consoling is the disdainful glance of the +chauffeur who, having a fare, is hailed by the unfortunate, desperate +pedestrian that has a pressing engagement at the other end of town. + +If one of them ever shows signs of slowing up, it is immediately +pounced upon and surrounded by ten or a dozen damp human beings. + +Triumphantly the driver takes in their humble, supplicating glances +(glances which have never been reproduced save in pictures of the +Martyrs), and then clearing his throat he questions: + +"First of all I've got to know where you want to go. I'm bound for +Grenelle." + +Nobody ever wants to go to Grenelle. + +If some one tactfully suggests the Avenue de Messine, he is instantly +rebuffed by a steady stare that sends him back, withered, into the +second row of the group. A shivering woman, taking all her courage +into her hands, suggests the Palais d'Orsay, but is ignored while a man +from behind calls forth "Five francs if you'll take me to the Avenue du +Bois." + +The chauffeur's glance wavers, it seems possible that he might +entertain the proposal. The gentleman steps forward, already has his +hand on the door handle, when from somewhere in the darkness, helmet +clad, stick in his hand, kit bag over one shoulder, a _poilu +permissionaire_ elbows his way through the crowd. There is no +argument, he merely says, + +"Look here, old man, I've got to make the 6.01 at the Gare du Nord; +drive like hell!" + +"You should worry. We'll get there." + +Now, the Gare du Nord is certainly not in the direction of Grenelle. +On the contrary it is diametrically opposite, geographically speaking. +But nobody seems to mind. The chauffeur is even lauded for his +patriotic sentiments, and one good-hearted, bedraggled creature +actually murmurs: + +"I only hope the dear fellow does make it!" + +"What does it matter if we do have to wait a bit--that's all we've +really got to do, after all," answers an elderly man moving away. + +"It would be worse than this if we were in the trenches," chimes in +some one else. + +"My son is in water up to his waist out there in Argonne," echoes a +third, as the group disbands. + +And yet people do go to the theatre. + +Gemier has made triumphant productions, with the translations of the +Shakesperean Society, and true artist that he is, has created +sensational innovations by way of _mise-en-scène_ in the "Merchant of +Venice" and "Anthony and Cleopatra." + +It's a far cry now to the once all too popular staging à la Munich. + +Lamy and Le Gallo were excruciatingly funny in a farce called "My +God-son," but the real type of theatrical performance which is +unanimously popular, which will hold its own to the very end, is the +Review. + +How on earth the authors manage to scrape up enough comic subjects, +when sadness is so generally prevalent, and how they succeed in making +their public laugh spontaneously and heartily, without the slightest +remorse or _arrière pensée_, has been a very interesting question to me. + +Naturally, their field is limited, and there are certain subjects which +are tabooed completely; so the trifling event, the ridiculous side of +Parisian life, have come to the fore. Two special types, the slacker +and the profiteer, or _nouveau riche_, are very generally and very +thoroughly maltreated. If I am any judge, it is the _embusqué_, who is +the special pet, and after him come the high cost of living, the lack +of fuel, the obscurity of the streets, the length of women's skirts, +etc.--all pretexts for more or less amusing topical songs. + +As to the war itself, they have made something very special of it. +Thanks to them the trenches become a very delightful spot populated by +a squadron of nimble footed misses, who, booted, spurred, +helmet-crowned and costumed in horizon blue, sing of the heroism and +the splendid good humour of the _poilu_ while keeping time to a martial +rhythm. + +There is invariably a heavy comedian who impersonates the jovial +_chef_--preparing a famous sauce in which to dish up "Willy" the day he +shall be captured; the soldier on furlough who is homesick for the +front; the wounded man who stops a moment to sing (with many frills and +flourishes) the joys of shedding one's blood for his country. + +Attacks are made to well known accompaniments--Bombardments perpetrated +in the wings by the big bass drum, and both though symbolic, are about +as unreal as possible. + +Nobody is illusioned, no one complains. On the contrary, they seem +delighted with the show they have paid to see. Furthermore, the better +part of the audience is composed of soldiers, wounded men, +convalescents, and _permissionaires_, and they all know what to expect. + +Near me sat two of the latter--healthy looking lads, wind burned and +tanned, their uniforms sadly faded and stained, their helmets scarred +and indented. Both wore the Croix de Guerre, and the Fourragère or +shoulder strap, showing the colours of the military medal, which at +that time being quite a novelty, caught and held the eyes of all who +surrounded them. + +From scraps of their conversation I learned that they had left the +battle front of the Somme that very morning, were merely crossing +Paris, taking a midnight train which would land them home some time the +following day. + +I even managed to gather that their papers had reached them at the very +moment when they came out of the trenches, that they had not even had +time to brush up, so great was their fear of missing the last train. + +Less than twenty-four hours ago, then, they had really been in +it--standing out there in the mud, surrounded by rats and the putrid +odour of dead bodies, the prey not only of the elements, but of enemy +bombs and shells, expecting the end at any instant; or curled up, half +frozen in a humid, slimy dug-out, not long enough to permit stretching +out--scarcely deep enough to be called a shelter. + +Would they not be disgusted? Ready to protest against this disfigured +travesty of their war? + +I feel quite certain they never gave it a thought. Blissfully +installed in their comfortable orchestra seats they didn't intend to +miss a word of the entire performance. And when finally in an endless +chain of verses, a comedian, mimicking a _poilu_ with his kit on his +back, recited his vicissitudes with the army police, and got mixed up +in his interpretation of R.A.T., G.Q.G.--etc., they burst into round +after round of applause, calling and recalling their favourite, while +their sides shook with laughter, and the tears rolled down their cheeks. + +These same faces took on a nobly serious aspect, while a tall, pale, +painted damsel draped in a peplum, evoked in ringing tones the glorious +history of the tri-colour. I looked about me--many a manly countenance +was wrinkled with emotion, and women on all sides sniffed audibly. It +was then that I understood, as never before, what a philosopher friend +calls "the force of symbols." + +An exact scenic reproduction of the war would have shocked all those +good people; just as this impossible theatrical deformation, this +potpourri of songs, dances and orchestral tremolos charmed and +delighted their care-saturated souls. + +Little girls in Alsatian costume, and the eternally sublime Red Cross +nurse played upon their sentimentality; the slacker inspired them with +disgust; they shrieked with delight at the _nouveau riche_; and their +enthusiasm knew no bounds when towards eleven-fifteen arrived the +"Stars and Stripes" accompanied by a double sextette of khaki-coloured +female ambulance drivers. Tradition has willed it thus. + +If the war continue any length of time doubtless the United States will +also become infuriated with the slacker, and I tremble to think of the +special brand of justice that woman in particular will have in store +for the man who does not really go to the front, or who, thanks to +intrigue and a uniform, is spending his days in peace and safety. + +Alas, there are _embusqués_ in all countries, just as there are +_nouveaux-riches_. In Paris these latter are easily discernible. They +have not yet had time to become accustomed to their new luxuries; +especially the women, who wear exaggerated styles, and flaunt their +furs and jewels, which deceive no one. + +[Illustration: DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME--PARIS] + +"They buy everything, so long as it is expensive," explained an +antiquity dealer. "They want everything, and want it at once!" + +The few old artisans still to be found who are versed in the art of +repairing antiques, are rushed to death, and their ill humour is almost +comic, for in spite of the fact that they are being well paid for their +work, they cannot bear to see these precious treasures falling into the +hands of the vulgar. + +"This is for Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So," they inform you with an ironical +smile, quite certain that you have never heard the name before. + +It would almost seem as if a vast wave of prosperity had enveloped the +country, were one to judge of the stories of millions made in a minute, +fortunes sprung up over night, new factories erected where work never +ceases; prices paid for real estate, monster strokes on the Bourse. +Little wonder then that in May just past, with the Germans scarcely +sixty miles from Paris, the sale of Degas' studio attained the +extraordinary total of nearly two million dollars; an Ingres drawing +which in 1889 brought eight hundred and fifty francs, selling for +fourteen thousand, and a Greco portrait for which Degas himself gave +four hundred and twenty francs in 1894, fetching eighty-two thousand +francs. + +Yes, such things happen even in France, and one hears but too often of +fortunes accumulated in the past four years--but alas! how much more +numerous are those which have been lost. The _nouveaux-pauvres_ far +outnumber the _nouveaux-riches_; but these former seem to go into +hiding. + +The Parisian bourgeois was essentially a property owner. His delight +was in houses; the stone-front six-story kind, the serious rent-paying +proposition, containing ten or a dozen moderate-priced apartments, and +two good stores, from which he derived a comfortable income. Such was +the ultimate desire of the little shop-keeper, desire which spurred him +on to sell and to economise. + +A house, some French rentes, government bonds (chiefly Russian in +recent years) and a few city obligations, were the extent of his +investments, and formed not only the nucleus but the better part of +many a French fortune. + +Imagine then the predicament of such people under the moratorium. Few +and far between are the tenants who have paid a sou of rent since +August, 1914, and the landlord has no power to collect. Add to this +the ever increasing price of living, and you will understand why many +an elderly Parisian who counted on spending his declining years in +peace and plenty, is now hard at work earning his daily bread. + +Made in a moment of emergency, evidently with the intention that it be +of short duration, this law about rentals has become the most +perplexing question in the world. Several attempts have been made +towards a solution, but all have remained fruitless, unsanctioned; and +the property owners are becoming anxious. + +That men who have been mobilised shall not pay--that goes without +saying. But the others. How about them? + +I happen to know a certain house in a bourgeois quarter of the city +about which I have very special reasons for being well informed. + +Both stores are closed. The one was occupied by a book-seller, the +other by a boot-maker. Each dealer was called to the army, and both of +them have been killed. Their estates will not be settled until after +the war. + +The first floor was rented to a middle-aged couple. The husband, +professor in a city school, is now prisoner in Germany. His wife died +during the Winter just passed. + +On the second landing one entered the home of a cashier in a big +National Bank. He was the proud possessor of a wife and three pretty +babies. The husband, aged thirty-two, left for the front with the rank +of Lieutenant, the first day of the mobilisation. His bank kindly +consented to continue half salary during the war. The lieutenant was +killed at Verdun. His employers offered a year and a half's pay to the +young widow--that is to say, about six thousand dollars, which she +immediately invested in five per cent government rentes. A +lieutenant's yearly pension amounts to about three hundred dollars, and +the Legion of Honour brings in fifty dollars per annum. + +They had scarcely had time to put anything aside, and I doubt if he +carried a life insurance. At any rate the education of these little +boys will take something more than can be economised after the bare +necessities of life have been provided. So how is the brave little +woman even to think of paying four years' rent, which when computed +would involve more than two-thirds of her capital? + +The third floor tenant is an elderly lady who let herself be persuaded +to put her entire income into bonds of the City of Vienna, Turkish +debt, Russian roubles, and the like. I found her stewing up old +newspapers in a greasy liquid, preparing thus a kind of briquette, the +only means of heating which she could afford. Yet the prospect of a +Winter without coal, possibly without bread, did not prevent her from +welcoming me with a smile, and explaining her case with grace and +distinction, which denoted the most exquisite breeding. Her maid, she +apologised as she bowed me out, was ill of rheumatism contracted during +the preceding Winter. + +The top apartment was occupied by a government functionary and his +family. As captain in the infantry he has been at the front since the +very beginning. His wife's family are from Lille, and like most +pre-nuptial arrangements when the father is in business, the daughter +received but the income of her dowry, which joined to her husband's +salary permitted a cheerful, pleasant home, and the prospect of an +excellent education for the children. + +The salary ceased with the Captain's departure to the front; the wife's +income stopped when the Germans entered Lille a few weeks later. They +now have but his officer's pay, approximately eighty dollars per month, +as entire financial resource. Add to this the death of a mother and +four splendid brothers, the constant menace of becoming a widow, and I +feel certain that the case will give food for reflection. + +All these unfortunate women know each other; have guessed their mutual +misfortunes, though, of course, they never mention them. Gathered +about a single open fire-place whose welcome blaze is the result of +their united economy, they patiently ply their needles at whatever +handiwork they are most deft, beading bags, making filet and mesh +laces, needle-work tapestry and the like, utilising every spare moment, +in the hope of adding another slice of bread to the already too frugal +meals. + +But orders are rare, and openings for such work almost nil. To obtain +a market would demand business training which has not been part of +their tradition, which while it tempts, both intimidates and revolts +them. Certain desperate ones would branch out in spite of all--but +they do not know how, dare not seem so bold. + +And so Winter will come anew--Winter with bread and sugar rations at a +maximum; Winter with meat prices soaring far above their humble pocket +books. + +Soup and vegetable stews quickly become the main article of diet. Each +succeeding year the little mothers have grown paler, and more frail. +The children have lost their fat, rosy cheeks. But let even a local +success crown our arms, let the _communiqué_ bring a little bit of real +news, tell of fresh laurels won, let even the faintest ray of hope for +the great final triumph pierce this veil of anxiety--and every heart +beat quickens, the smiles burst forth; lips tremble with emotion. +These people know the price, and the privilege of being French, the +glory of belonging to that holy nation. + + + + +V + +When after a lengthy search our friends finally discover our Parisian +residence, one of the first questions they put is, "Why on earth is +your street so narrow?" + +The reason is very simple. Merely because la rue Geoffrey L'Asnier was +built before carriages were invented, the man who gave it its name +having doubtless dwelt there during the fourteenth or fifteenth +century, as one could easily infer after inspecting the choir of our +parish church. But last Good Friday, the Germans in trying out their +super-cannon, bombarded St. Gervais. The roof caved in, killing and +wounding many innocent persons, and completely destroying that choir. + +Elsewhere a panic might have ensued, but residents of our quarter are +not so easily disturbed. The older persons distinctly recall the +burning of the Hotel de Ville and the Archbishop's Palace in 1870. And +did they not witness the battles in the streets, all the horrors of the +Commune, after having experienced the agonies and privations of the +Siege? I have no doubt that among them there are persons who were +actually reduced to eating rats, and I feel quite certain that many a +man used his gun to advantage from between the shutters of his own +front window. + +Their fathers had seen the barricades of 1848 and 1830, their +grandfathers before them the Reign of Terror--and so on one might +continue as far back as the Norman invasion. + +The little café on the rue du Pont Louis-Philippe serves as meeting +place for all the prophets and strategists of the quarter, who have no +words sufficient to express their disdain for the Kaiser's heavy +artillery. + +"It's all bluff, they think they can frighten us! Why, I, Madame, I +who am speaking to you--I saw the Hotel de Ville, the Theatre des +Nations, the grain elevators, all in flames and all at once, the whole +city seemed to be ablaze. Well, do you think that prevented the +Parisians from fishing in the Seine, or made this café shut its doors? +There was a barricade at either end of this street--the blinds were up +and you could hear the bullets patter against them. The insurgents, +all covered with powder, would sneak over and get a drink--and when +finally their barricade was taken, it was the Republican soldiers who +sat in our chairs and drank beer and lemonade! _Their_ guns, humph! +Let them bark!" + +It is at this selfsame café that gather all the important men of our +district, much as the American would go to his club. They are serious +_bourgeois_, well along in the fifties, just a trifle ridiculous, +perhaps on account of their allure and their attire. But should one +grow to know them better he would soon realise that most of them are +shrewd, hard-working business men, each burdened with an anxiety or a +sorrow which he never mentions. + +They too love strategy. Armies represented by match safes, dominoes +and toothpicks have become an obsession--their weakness. They are +thorough Frenchmen and their critical sense must be unbridled. They +love their ideas and their systems. They would doubtless not hesitate +to advise Foch. Personally, if I were Foch, I should turn a deaf ear. +But if I were a timid, vacillating, pessimistic spirit, still in doubt +as to the final outcome, I should most certainly seat myself at a +neighbouring table and listen to their conversation that I might come +away imbued with a little of their patience, abnegation, and absolute +confidence. + +Nor does the feminine opinion deviate from this course. I found the +same ideas prevalent in the store of a little woman who sold umbrellas. +Before the war Madame Coutant had a very flourishing trade, but now her +sales are few and far between, while her chief occupation is repairing. +She is a widow without children, and no immediate relative in the war. +Because of this, at the beginning she was looked down upon and her +situation annoyed and embarrassed her greatly. But by dint of search, +a most voluminous correspondence, and perhaps a little bit of intrigue, +she finally managed to unearth two very distant cousins, peasant boys +from the Cevennes, whom she frankly admitted never having seen, but to +whom she regularly sent packages and post cards; about whom she was at +liberty to speak without blushing, since one of them had recently been +cited for bravery and decorated with the _Croix de Guerre_. + +This good woman devotes all the leisure and energy her trade leaves +her, to current events. Of course, there is the official _communiqué_ +which may well be considered as the national health bulletin; but +besides that, there is still another, quite as indispensable and fully +as interesting, made up of the criticism of local happenings, and +popular presumption. + +This second _communiqué_ comes to us direct from Madame Coutant's, +where a triumvirate composed of the scissors-grinder, the +woman-who-rents-chairs-in-St.-Gervais, the sacristan's wife, the +concierge of the Girls' School, and the widow of an office boy in the +City Hall, get their heads together and dispense the news. + +The concierges and cooks while out marketing, pick it up and start it +on its rounds. + +"We are progressing North of the Marne"; "Two million Americans have +landed in France," and similar statements shall be accepted only when +elucidated, enlarged and embellished by Madame Coutant's group. Each +morning brings a fresh harvest of happenings, but each event is +certified or contradicted by a statement from some one who is "Out +there," and sees and knows. + +Under such circumstances an attack in Champagne may be viewed from a +very different angle when one hears that Bultot, the electrician, is +telephone operator in that region; that the aforesaid Bultot has +written to his wife in most ambiguous phraseology, and that she has +brought the letter to Madame Coutant's for interpretation. + +But it is more especially the local moral standards which play an +important part and are subject to censorship in Madame Coutant's +circle. The individual conduct of the entire quarter is under the most +rigid observation. Lives must be pure as crystal, homes of glass. It +were better to attempt to hide nothing. + +That Monsieur L., the retired druggist, is in sad financial straits, +there is not the slightest doubt; no one is duped by the fact that he +is trying to put on a bold face under cover of war-time economy. + +That the grocer walks with a stick and drags his leg on the ground to +make people think he is only fit for the auxiliary service, deceives no +one; his time will come, there is but to wait. + +Let a woman appear with an unaccustomed furbelow, or a family of a +workman that is earning a fat salary, eat two succulent dishes the same +week, public opinion will quickly make evident its sentiments, and +swiftly put things to rights. + +The war must be won, and each one must play his part--do his bit, no +matter how humble. The straight and narrow paths of virtue have been +prescribed and there is no better guide than the fear of mutual +criticism. That is one reason why personally I have never sought to +ignore Madame Coutant's opinion. + +It goes without saying that the good soul has attributed the +participation of the United States in this war entirely to my efforts. +And the nature of the advice that I am supposed to have given President +Wilson would make an everlasting fortune for a humourist. But in spite +of it all, I am proud to belong to them; proud of being an old resident +in their quarter. + +"Strictly serious people," was the opinion passed upon us by the +sacristan's wife for the edification of my new housemaid. + +It is a most interesting population to examine in detail, made up of +honest, skilful Parisian artisans, _frondeurs_ at heart, jesting with +everything, but terribly ticklish on the point of honour. + +"They ask us to 'hold out'," exclaims the laundress of the rue de Jouy; +"as if we'd ever done anything else all our lives!" + +These people were capable of the prodigious. They have achieved the +miraculous! + +With the father gone to the front, his pay-roll evaporated, it was a +case of stop and think. Of course, there was the "Separation fee," +about twenty-five cents a day for the mother, ten cents for each child. +The French private received but thirty cents _a month_ at the beginning +of the war. The outlook was anything but cheerful, the possibility of +making ends meet more than doubtful. So work it was--or rather, extra +work. Eyes were turned towards the army as a means of livelihood. +With so many millions mobilised, the necessity for shirts, underwear, +uniforms, etc., became evident. + +Three or four mothers grouped together and made application for three +or four hundred shirts. The mornings were consecrated to house work, +which must be done in spite of all, the children kept clean and the +food well prepared. But from one o'clock until midnight much might be +accomplished; and much was. + +The ordinary budget for a woman of the working class consists in +earning sufficient to feed, clothe, light and heat the family, besides +supplying the soldier husband with tobacco and a monthly parcel of +goodies. Even the children have felt the call, and after school, which +lasts from eight until four, little girls whose legs must ache from +dangling, sit patiently on chairs removing bastings, or sewing on +buttons, while their equally tiny brothers run errands, or watch to see +that the soup does not boil over. + +Then when all is done, when with all one's heart one has laboured and +paid everything and there remains just enough to send a money-order to +the _poilu_, there is still a happiness held in reserve--a delight as +keen as any one can feel in such times; i.e., the joy of knowing that +the "Separation fee" has not been touched. It is a really and truly +income; it is a dividend as sound as is the State! It has almost +become a recompense. + +[Illustration: VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME +(BOMBARDED BY GERMAN SUPER CANNON, APRIL, 1918)] + +What matter now the tears, the mortal anxieties that it may have cost? +For once again, to quote the laundress of the rue de Jouy-- + +"Trials? Why, we'd have had them anyway, even if there hadn't been a +war!" + +In these times of strictest economy, it would perhaps be interesting to +go deeper into the ways of those untiring thrifty ants who seem to know +how "To cut a centime in four" and extract the quintessence from a +bone. My concierge is a precious example for such a study, having +discovered a way of bleaching clothes without boiling, and numerous +recipes for reducing the high cost of living to almost nothing. + +It was in her lodge that I was first introduced to a drink made from +ash leaves, and then tasted another produced by mixing hops and +violets, both to me being equally as palatable as certain brands of +grape juice. + +Butter, that unspeakable luxury, she had replaced by a savoury mixture +of tried out fats from pork and beef kidney, seasoned with salt, +pepper, allspice, thyme and laurel, into which at cooling was stirred a +glass of milk. Not particularly palatable on bread but as a seasoning +to vegetable soup, that mighty French stand-by, I found it most +excellent. Believe me, I've tried it! + +Jam has long been prepared with honey, and for all other sweetening +purposes she used a syrup of figs that was not in the least +disagreeable. The ration of one pound of sugar per person a month, and +brown sugar at that, does not go very far. + +The cold season is the chief preoccupation of all Parisians, and until +one has spent a war winter in the capital he is incapable of realising +what can be expected from a scuttle full of coal. + +First of all, one commences by burning it for heating purposes, +rejoicing in every second of its warmth and glow. One invites one's +friends to such a gala! Naturally the coal dust has been left at the +bottom of the recipient, the sack in which it was delivered is well +shaken for stray bits, and this together with the sittings is mixed +with potter's clay and sawdust, which latter has become a most +appreciable possession in our day. The whole is then stirred together +and made into bricks or balls, which though they burn slowly, burn +surely. + +The residue of this combustible is still so precious, that when +gathered up, ground anew with paper and sawdust, and at length +amalgamated with a mucilaginous water composed of soaked flax-seed, one +finally obtains a kind of pulp that one tries vainly to make ignite, +but which obstinately refuses to do so, though examples to the contrary +have been heard of. + +The fireless cooker has opened new horizons, for, of course, there is +still enough gas to start the heating. But none but the wealthy can +afford such extravagance, so each one has invented his own model. My +concierge's husband is renowned for his ingenuity in this particular +branch, and people from the other side of the Isle St. Louis, or the +rue St. Antoine take the time to come and ask his advice. It seems to +me he can make fireless cookers out of almost anything. Antiquated +wood chests, hat boxes, and even top hats themselves have been utilised +in his constructions. + +"These are real savings-banks for heat"--he explains pompously--for he +loves to tackle the difficult--even adjectively. His shiny bald pate +is scarce covered by a Belgian fatigue cap, whose tassel bobs in the +old man's eyes, and when he carried his long treasured gold to the +bank, he refused to take its equivalent in notes. It was necessary to +have recourse to the principal cashier, who assured him that if France +needed money she would call upon him first. Then and then only would +he consent to accept. + +He is a Lorrainer--a true Frenchman, who in the midst of all the +sorrows brought on by the conflict, has known two real joys: the first +when his son was promoted and made lieutenant on the battle field; the +second when his friends the Vidalenc and the Lemots made up a quarrel +that had lasted over twelve years. + +"I was in a very embarrassing position," he explained, "for I held both +families in equal esteem. Fortunately the war came and settled +matters. When I say fortunately, of course, you understand, Madame, +what I mean. '_A quelquechose malheur est bon_.'" + +And in truth the original cause of difference between the Lemots, +drapers, and the Vidalenc, coal and wood dealers, had been lost in the +depths of time. But no hate between Montague and Capulet was ever more +bitter. The gentle flame of antipathy was constantly kept kindled by a +glance in passing, a half audible sneer, and if the Vidalenc chose the +day of the White Sale to hang out and beat their stock of coal sacks, +one might be certain that the Lemots would be seized with a fit of +cleanliness on the coldest of winter days, and would play the hose up +and down the street in the freezing air about an hour or so before the +Vidalencs would have to unload their coal wagons. + +The younger generation, on leaving school every afternoon, would also +see to it that the family feud be properly recognised, and many and +bitter were the mutual pummelings. + +Reconciliation seemed an impossibility, and yet both were hardworking, +honest families, economical and gracious, rejoicing in the friendship +of the entire quarter, who, of course, were much pained by the +situation. + +Even the mobilisation failed to bring a truce and the unforgettable +words of "Sacred Unity" fell upon arid ground. + +But how strange, mysterious and far reaching are the designs of +Providence. Young Vidalenc was put into a regiment that was brigaded +with the one to which belonged Monsieur Lemot. + +The two men met "Out there," and literally fell into each other's arms. + +A letter containing a description of this event arrived in the two +shops at almost the same moment. That is to say the postman first went +to Father Vidalenc's, but by the time the old man had found his +spectacles, Madame Lemot had received her missive, and both were +practically read at once. Then came the dash for the other's shop, the +paper waving wildly in the air. + +Of course, they met in the street, stopped short, hesitated, collapsed, +wept and embraced, to the utter amazement of the entire quarter who +feared not only that something fatal had happened, but also for their +mental safety. + +Later in the day the news got abroad, and by nightfall every one had +heard that Father Vidalenc had washed Madame Lemot's store windows, and +that Madame Lemot had promised to have an eye to Vidalenc's accounts, +which had been somewhat abandoned since the departure of his son. + +When Lemot returned on furlough there was a grand dinner given in his +honour at Vidalenc's, and when Vidalenc dined at Lemot's, it was +assuredly amusing to see the latter's children all togged out in their +Sunday best, a tri-colour bouquet in hand, waiting on their doorstep to +greet and conduct the old man. + +Unfortunately there was no daughter to give in matrimony so that they +might marry and live happily ever after. But on my last trip home I +caught a glimpse of an unknown girlish face behind Madame Lemot's +counter, and somebody told me it was her niece. + +It would not only be unfair, but a gross error on my part to attempt to +depict life in our quarter without mentioning one of the most notable +inhabitants--namely Monsieur Alexandre Clouet, taylor, so read the sign +over the door of the shop belonging to this pompous little person--who +closed that shop on August 2nd, 1914, and rallied to the colours. But +unlike the vulgar herd he did not scribble in huge chalk letters all +over the blinds--"The boss has joined the army." No, indeed, not he! + +Twenty four hours later appeared a most elaborate meticulous sign which +announced: + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + wishes to inform his numerous + customers that he has joined the ranks + of the 169th infantry, and shall do + his duty as a Frenchman. + + +His wife returned to her father's home, and it was she who pasted up +the series of neat little bulletins. First we read: + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + is in the trenches but his health is + excellent. + + He begs his customers and friends + to send him news of themselves. + Postal Sector 24X. + + +I showed the little sign to my friends who grew to take an interest in +Monsieur Clouet's personal welfare, and passing by his shop they would +copy down the latest news and forward it to me, first at Villiers, and +afterwards to the States. + +It is thus that I learned that Monsieur Clouet, gloriously wounded, had +been cared for at a hospital in Cahors, and later on that he had +recovered, rejoined his depot and finally returned to the front. + +One of my first outings during my last trip sent me in the direction of +Monsieur Clouet's abode. I was decidedly anxious to know what had +become of him. To my surprise I found the shop open, but a huge +announcement hung just above the entrance. + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + gloriously wounded and decorated + with the Military Medal, regrets to + state that in future it will be + impossible for him to continue giving his + personal attention to his business. + + His wife and his father-in-law will + hereafter combine their efforts to give + every satisfaction to his numerous + customers. + + +I entered. For the moment the wife and the father-in-law were +combining their efforts to convince a very stout, elderly gentleman +that check trousers would make him look like a sylph. + +"Ah, Madame, what a surprise," she cried, on seeing me. + +"But your husband?" I queried. "Is it really serious--do tell me!" + +"Alas, Madame, he says he'll never put his foot in the shop again. You +see he's very sensitive since he was scalped, and he's afraid somebody +might know he has to wear a wig!" + + + + +VI + +The Boche aeroplane was by no means a novelty to the Parisian. Its +first apparitions over the capital (1914) were greeted with curious +enthusiasm, and those who did not have a field glass handy at the time, +later on satisfied their curiosity by a visit to the Invalides, where +every known type of enemy machine was displayed in the broad court-yard. + +The first Zeppelin raid (April 15th, 1915) happened toward midnight, +and resulted in a good many casualties, due not to the bombs dropped by +the enemy, but to the number of colds and cases of pneumonia and +bronchitis caught by the pajama-clad Parisian, who rushed out half +covered, to see the sight, thoughtlessly banging his front door behind +him. + +But the first time that we were really driven to take shelter in the +cellar was after dinner at the home of a friend who lives in an +apartment house near the Avenue du Bois. We were enjoying an impromptu +concert of chamber music, when the alarm was given, swiftly followed by +distant but very distinct detonations, which made hesitation become +imprudence. + +The descent to the basement was accomplished without undue haste, or +extraordinary commotion, save for an old Portuguese lady and her +daughter who lost their heads and unconsciously gave us a comic +interlude, worthy of any first-class movie. + +Roused from her sleep, the younger woman with self preservation +uppermost in her mind, had slipped on an outer garment, grabbed the +first thing she laid her hands on, and with hair streaming over her +back, dashed down five long flights of stairs. + +At the bottom she remembered her mother, let forth an awful shriek, and +still holding her bottle of tooth wash in her hands, jumped into the +lift and started in search of her parent. + +In the meantime, the latter on finding her daughter's bed empty, had +started towards the lower floors, crossing the upward bound lift, which +Mademoiselle was unable to stop. + +Screams of terror, excited sentences in Portuguese--in which both gave +directions that neither followed, and for a full ten minutes mother and +daughter raced up and down in the lift and on the stairway, trying +vainly to join one another. + +A young lieutenant home on leave, at length took pity on them and +finally united the two exhausted creatures who fell into each other's +arms shrieking hysterically: + +"If we must die--let us die together!" + +The concierges and the servants began arranging chairs and camp stools +around the furnace; the different tenants introduced themselves and +their guests. Almost every one was still about when the signal was +given, and this cellar where the electric lamps burned brightly soon +took on the aspect of a drawing-room, in spite of all. One lone man, +however, stood disconsolate, literally suffocating beneath a huge +cavalry cape, hooked tight up to his throat. As the perspiration soon +began rolling from his forehead, a friend seeking to put him at his +ease, suggested he open up his cloak. + +The gentleman addressed cast a glance over the assembled group, +broadened out into a smile, and exclaimed-- + +"I can't. Only got my night shirt underneath." + +The hilarity was general, and the conversation presently became bright +and sparkling with humorous anecdotes. + +The officers held their audience spellbound with fear and admiration; +the women talked hospital and dress, dress and hospital, finally +jesting about the latest restrictions. One lady told the story of a +friend who engaged a maid, on her looks and without a reference, the +which maid shortly became a menace because of her propensity for +dropping and breaking china. + +One day, drawn towards the pantry by the sound of a noise more terrible +than any yet experienced, she found the girl staring at a whole pile of +plates--ten or a dozen--which had slipped from her fingers and lay in +thousands of pieces on the floor. + +The lady became indignant and scolded. + +"Ah, if Madame were at the front, she'd see worse than that!" was the +consoling response. + +"But we're not at the front, I'll have you understand, and what's more +neither you nor I have ever been there, my girl." + +"I beg Madame's pardon, but my last place was in a hospital at Verdun, +as Madame will see when my papers arrive." + +General laughter was cut short by the sound of two explosions. + +"They're here. They've arrived. It will soon be over now," and like +commentaries were added. + +A servant popped the cork of a champagne bottle, and another passed +cakes and candied fruit. + +An elderly man who wore a decoration, approached the officers. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "excuse me for interrupting, but do any of you +know the exact depth to which an aeroplane bomb can penetrate?" + +The officers gave him a few details, which, however, did not seem to +satisfy the old fellow. His anxiety became more and more visible. + +"I wouldn't worry, sir, if I were you. There's absolutely no danger +down here." + +"Thank you for your assurance, Messieurs," said he, "but I'm not in the +least anxious about my personal safety. It's my drawings and my +collection of porcelains that are causing me such concern. I thought +once that I'd box them all up and bring them down here. But you never +can tell what dampness or change of temperature might do to a water +colour or a gouache. Oh! my poor Fragonards! My poor Bouchers! +Gentlemen, never, never collect water colours or porcelains! Take it +from me!" + +At that moment the bugle sounded--"All's well," and as we were +preparing to mount the stairs, the old man accosted the officers anew, +asking them for the titles of some books on artillery and fortification. + +"That all depends to what use you wish to apply them." + +"Ah, it's about protecting my collection. I simply must do something! +I can't send them to storage, they wouldn't be any safer there, and +even if they were I'd die of anxiety so far away from my precious +belongings." + +"Good-nights" were said in the vestibule, and the gathering dispersed +just as does any group of persons after a theatre or an ordinary +reception. But once in the street, it was absolutely useless to even +think of a taxi. People were pouring from every doorway, heads stuck +out of every window. + +"Where did they fall? Which way?" + +In the total obscurity, the sound of feet all hurrying in the same +direction, accompanied by shouts of recognition, even ripples of +laughter, seemed strangely gruesome, as the caravan of curious hastened +towards the scene of tragedy. + +"No crowds allowed. Step lively," called the _sergeants-de-ville_, at +their wits' end. "Better go back home, they might return. Step +lively, I say!" + + +It happened thus the first few visits, but presently the situation +became less humorous. One began to get accustomed to it. Then one +commenced to dislike it and protest. + +Seated by the studio fire, we were both plunged deep in our books. + +"_Allons_!" exclaimed H. "Do you hear the _pompiers_? The Gothas +again!" + +We stiffened up in our chairs and listened. The trumpets sounded +shrilly on the night air of our tranquil Parisian quarter. + +"Right you are. That means down we go! They might have waited until I +finished my chapter, hang them! There's no electricity in our cellar," +and I cast aside my book in disgust. + +Taking our coats and a steamer rug we prepared to descend. In the +court-yard the clatter of feet resounded. + +The cellar of our seventeenth century dwelling being extremely deep and +solidly built, was at once commandeered as refuge for one hundred +persons in case of bombardment, and we must needs share it with some +ninety odd less fortunate neighbours. + +"Hurry up there. Hurry up, I say," calls a sharp nasal voice. + +That voice belonged to Monsieur Leddin, formerly a clock maker, but now +of the _Service Auxiliare_, and on whom devolved the policing of our +entire little group, simply because of his uniform. + +His observations, however, have but little effect. People come +straggling along, yawning from having been awakened in their first +sleep, and almost all of them is hugging a bundle or parcel containing +his most precious belongings. + +It is invariably an explosion which finally livens their gait, and they +hurry into the stairway. A slight jam is thus produced. + +"No pushing there! Order!" cries another stentorian voice, belonging +to Monsieur Vidalenc, the coal dealer. + +"Here! here!" echo several high pitched trebles. "_Très bien, très +bien_. Follow in line--what's the use of crowding?" + +Monsieur Leddin makes another and still shriller effort, calling from +above: + +"Be calm now. Don't get excited." + +"Who's excited?" + +"You are!" + +"Monsieur Leddin, you're about as fit to be a soldier as I to be an +Archbishop," sneered the butcher's wife. "You'd do better to leave us +alone and hold your peace." + +General hilarity, followed by murmurs of approval from various other +females, which completely silenced Monsieur Leddin, who never reopened +his mouth during the entire evening, so that one could not tell whether +he was nursing his offended dignity or hiding his absolute incompetence +to assume authority. + +Places were quickly found on two or three long wooden benches, and a +few chairs provided for the purpose, some persons even spreading out +blankets and camping on the floor. + +The raiment displayed was the typical negligée of the Parisian working +class; a dark coloured woollen dressing gown, covered over with a shawl +or a cape, all the attire showing evidence of having been hastily +donned with no time to think of looking in the mirror. + +An old lantern and a kerosene lamp but dimly lighted the groups which +were shrouded in deep velvety shadows. + +Presently a man, a man that I had never seen before, a man with a long +emaciated face and dark pointed beard, rose in the background, holding +a blanket draped about him by flattening his thin white hand against +his breast. The whole scene seemed almost biblical, and instantly my +mind evoked Rembrandt's masterpiece--the etching called 'The Hundred +Florin Piece,' which depicts the crowds seated about the standing +figure of our Saviour and listening to His divine words. + +But the spell was quickly broken when an instant later my vision +coughed and called-- + +"Josephine, did you bring down the 'Petit Parisien,' as I told you?" + +Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, and then a rather distant explosion +gave us reason to believe that the enemy planes were retiring. + +"_Jamais de la vie_! No such luck to-night. Why we've got a good +couple of hours ahead of us, just like last time. You'll see! Much +better to make yourself as comfortable as possible and not lose any +sleep over it." + +The tiny babies had scarcely waked at all, and peacefully continued to +slumber on their mothers' knees, or on improvised cots made from a +blanket or comforter folded to several thicknesses. + +The women soon yawned, and leaning their backs against the wall nodded +regularly in spite of their efforts not to doze off, and each time, +surprised by the sudden shock of awakening would shudder and groan +unconsciously. + +Tightly clasped in their hands, or on the floor between their feet lay +a bag which never got beyond their reach, to which they clung as +something sacred. Certain among them were almost elegant in their grey +linen covers. Others had seen better days, while still others dated +back to the good old times of needlework tapestry. There were carpet, +kit and canvas bags, little wooden chests with leather handles, and one +poor old creature carefully harboured a card-board box tied about with +a much knotted string. + +What did they all contain? In France amid such a gathering it were +safe to make a guess. + +First of all, the spotless family papers--cherished documents +registering births, deaths and marriages. A lock of hair, a baby +tooth, innumerable faded photographs, a bundle of letters, a scrap of +paper whereon are scrawled the last words of a departed hero, and way +down underneath, neatly separated from all the rest, I feel quite sure +the little family treasure lies hidden. Yes, here is that handful of +stocks and bonds, thanks to which their concierge bows to them with +respect; those earnings that permit one to fall ill, to face old age +and death without apprehension, the assurance the children shall want +for nothing, shall have a proper education--the certitude that the two +little rooms occupied can really be called home; that the furniture so +carefully waxed and polished is one's own forever. Bah! what terrors +can lack of work, food shortage, or war hold for such people? Thus +armed can they not look the horrid spectres square in the face? The +worst will cost but one or two blue bank notes borrowed from the little +pile, but because of the comfort they have brought they will be +replaced all the more gayly when better days shall come. + +All this ran through my brain as I watched those hands--big and small, +fat and thin, young and old, clasping their treasure so tightly, and I +couldn't help feeling that gigantic convulsive gesture of thousands of +other women, who all over the great Capital at that same moment were +hugging so lovingly their little all; the fruit of so much toil and so +much virtue. + +My reflections were cut short by a deafening noise that roused my +sleeping companions. The children shrieked, and the women openly +lamented. + +"That was a close call," commented Monsieur Neu, our concierge. + +Five or six boys wanted to rush out and see where the bomb had fallen. +They were dissuaded, but with difficulty. + +An elderly man had taken his six year old grandson on to his knee, and +that sleepy little Parisian urchin actually clapped his hands and +crowed over the shock. + +"Jiminy, that was a fine one!" + +"That's right, my child," pompously exclaimed the grandsire. "Never, +never forget the monsters who troubled your innocent sleep with their +infamous crimes." + +"Oh, cut it out, grandpop," was the somewhat irreverent reply. "Aren't +you afraid you might miss forty winks?" and then turning to his mother, +"I say, mamma, if one of them lands on our house, you promise you'll +wake me up, won't you? I want to see everything, and last time and the +time before, I missed it!" + +"Yes, darling, of course, but go to sleep, there's a good boy." + +A tall, good-looking girl over in one corner openly gave vent to her +sentiments. + +"The idiots! the idiots! if they think they can scare us that way! +They'd far better not waste their time, and let us sleep. It isn't a +bit funny any more, and I've got to work just the same to-morrow, Boche +or no Boche!" + +Two rickety old creatures clasped each other in arms, and demanded in +trembling voices if there was any real danger! This produced a ripple +of merriment. + +Monsieur Duplan, the butcher, then asked the ladies' permission to +smoke, the which permission was graciously accorded. + +"Why, if I'd only thought, I'd have brought down another lamp and my +work. It's too bad to waste so much time." + +"I have my knitting. You don't need any light for that." + +"Where on earth did you get wool? How lucky you are!" + +From Monsieur Leddin's lips now rose a loud and sonorous snore. + +"Decidedly that man is possessed of all the charms," giggled a +sarcastic neighbour. + +"Yes, it must be a perfect paradise to live with such an angel, and to +feel that you've got him safe at home till the end of the war. I don't +wonder his poor little wife took the children and went to Burgundy." + +"Why isn't he at the front?" hissed some one in a whisper. + +"Yes--why?" + +"There are lots less healthy men than he out there. The fat old +plumber who lived on the rue de Jouy, and who can hardly breathe, was +taken----" + +"And the milkman who passed a hundred and three medical inspections and +finally had to go." + +"If you think my husband is overstrong, you're mistaken." + +"And mine, Madame, how about him?" + +Something told me that Monsieur Leddin's fate was hanging in the +balance on this eventful evening. + +"Shake him up, Monsieur Neu, he doesn't need to sleep if we can't. +We've all got to work to-morrow and he can take a nice long nap at his +desk." + +"Oh, leave him alone," put in Monsieur Laurent, the stationer, who was +seated near me. "Just listen to those fiendish women. Why they're +worse than we are about the slackers. After all, I keep telling them +there must be a few, otherwise who's going to write history? And +history's got to be written, hasn't it?" + +"Most decidedly," I replied. + +And having at length found a subject of conversation that I had deigned +approve, he continued, + +"Just think of what all the poor kids in generations to come will have +to cram into their heads! The names of all the battles on all the +Fronts and the dates. It makes me dizzy! I'm glad it's not up to me. +I like history all well enough, but I'd rather make it than have to +learn it." + +Monsieur Laurent did not speak lightly. He had veritably helped to +make history, having left his right foot and part of his leg "Out +there" on the hills of Verdun. + +I asked him how he was getting along since his return. + +"Better than ever! Excellent appetite--never a cold--never an ill. +I'll soon be as spry as a rabbit. Why, I used to be too heavy, I +always fell asleep after luncheon. That campaign set my blood to +rights. I'm ten years younger," he exclaimed, pounding his chest. + +"That's a good strong-box, isn't it?" and he coughed loudly to +thoroughly convince of its solidity. + +"France can still count on me! I was ready for war, and I shall be +prepared for peace." + +"Just wait till it gets here," murmured some woman. + +[Illustration: THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR] + +"It'll come, it's bound to come some time," he cried, evidently +pursuing a favourite theme. "And we'll like it all the better for +having waited so long." + +Monsieur Laurent has firm faith in the immediate business future. + +"_Voilà_! all we've got to do is to lay Germany out flat. Even then +the economical struggle that will follow the war will be terrible," he +prophesies. "The French must come to the fore with all the resources +of their national genius. As to myself, I have my own idea on the +subject." + +We were fairly drinking in his words. + +"You've all doubtless seen the sign that I put up in my window?" + +We acquiesced. + +"Well, it was that sign that opened my eyes." + +I was all attention by this time, for I distinctly remembered the above +mentioned sign. It had puzzled and amused me immensely. Painted in +brilliant letters, it ran as follows: + + _EXCEPTIONAL BARGAIN:_ + + _For men having their left foot + amputated and wearing size No. 9. + 3 shoes for the right foot--two + black and one tan; excellent + quality, almost like new. + For sale, or exchange for shoes + belonging to the left foot. Must be + of same quality and in like condition._ + + +"I haven't yet made any special effort to ascertain whether there are +more amputations of the left than of the right foot," continued +Monsieur Laurent; "I suppose it's about equal. Well, my plan is just +this. As soon as there's peace I'm going to set up shop on the rue St. +Antoine, or the Place de la Bastille. I'll call it 'A la botte de +l'amputé,' and I sell my shoes separately instead of in pairs. There's +a fortune in it inside of five years." + +"Just hear him raving," sighed his wife. "You know well enough, +Laurent, that just so soon as the war is over we're going to sell out, +and with the money, your pension, and what we've saved up, we'll go out +to the Parc St. Maur, buy a little cottage and settle down. I'll raise +a few chickens and some flowers, and you can go fishing in the Seine +all day long." + +"But the economical struggle?" + +"You let the economical struggle take care of itself. Now, with your +mad idea, just suppose those who had a right foot all wanted tan shoes, +and those who had a left couldn't stand anything but black? I'd like +to know where you'd be then? Stranger things than that have happened." + +Laurent gazed at his wife in admiration. + +"With all your talk about the future, it seems to me we've been down +here a long time since that last explosion." + +One woman looked for her husband but could not find him. The Rembrandt +Christhead had also disappeared. + +A tall fifteen year old lad who stood near the door informed us that +they had slipped out to see. + +"So has Germain." + +"Then you come here! Don't you dare leave me," scolded the mother. +"Can you just see something happening to him with his father out there +in the trenches?" + +Monsieur Neu and two other men soon followed suit. + +The big boy who had so recently been admonished managed to crawl from +beneath his mother's gaze and make his escape. + +"If ever I catch him, he'll find out what my name is," screamed the +excited woman, dashing after him into the darkness. + +Then, presently, one by one we took our way towards the hall, and the +cellar seemed empty. + +The tall boy came back to the entrance, all excitement. + +"We saw where it fell!" he panted. "There are some wounded. The +police won't let you go near. There's lots and lots of people out +there. Where's mamma?" + +"She's looking for you!" + +He was off with a bound. + +The instinct to see, to know what is going on is infinitely stronger +than that of self preservation. Many a soldier has told me that, and I +have often had occasion to prove it personally. + +Some of the women started towards the street. + +"We're only going as far as the door," said they by way of excuse. +"You're really quite safe beneath the portico." And they carried their +babies with them. + +So when the final signal of safety was sounded, there remained below +but a few old women, a couple of very small children, and Monsieur +Leddin, whom nothing seemed to disturb. + +The mothers returned to fetch their children. The old ladies and +Monsieur Leddin were aroused. + +"_C'est fini_! _Ah_!" + +And in the courtyard one could hear them calling as they dispersed. + +"Good-night, Madame Cocard." + +"Good-night, Madame Bidon." + +"Don't forget." + +"I won't." + +"Till next time." + +"That's it, till next time." + +A young woman approached me. + +"Madame, you won't mind if I come after them to-morrow, would you?" she +begged with big wistful eyes. "The stairway is so dark and so narrow +in our house, I'm afraid something might happen to them." + +"Mercy me! you're surely not thinking of leaving your babies alone in +the cellar?" + +"Oh, Madame, it's not my babies. Not yet," and she smiled. "It's my +bronze chimney ornaments!" + +"Your what?" + +"Yes, Madame, my chimney ornaments. A clock and a pair of +candlesticks. They're over there in that wooden box all done up +beautifully. You see Lucien and I got married after the war began. It +was all done so quickly that I didn't have any trousseau or wedding +presents. I'm earning quite a good deal now, and I don't want him to +think ill of me so I'm furnishing the house, little by little. It's a +surprise for when he comes home." + +"He's at the front?" + +"No, Madame, in the hospital. He has a bad face wound. My, how it +worried him. He wanted to die, he used to be so handsome! See, here's +his photograph. He isn't too awfully ugly, is he? Anyway I don't love +him a bit less; quite the contrary, and that's one of the very reasons +why I want to fix things up--so as to prove it to him!" + + + + +VII + +The Moulin Rouge no longer turns. The strains of sounding brass and +tinkling cymbal which once issued incessantly from every open café, and +together with the street cries, the tram bells and the motor horns of +the Boulevards Exterieurs, formed a gigantic characteristic medley, +have long since died away. The night restaurants are now turned into +workrooms and popular soup kitchens. Montmartre, the heart of Paris, +as it used to be called, Montmartre the care-free, has become drawn and +wizened as a winter apple, and at present strangely resembles a little +provincial city. + +If it were true that "There is no greater sorrow than recalling happy +times when in misery," doubtless from France would rise but one long +forlorn wail. The stoic Parisian _poilu_, however, has completely +reversed such philosophy, and unmindful of the change his absence has +created, delights in the remembrance of every instant, dreams but of +the moment when he shall again be part of the light-hearted throngs who +composed the society of the Butte. Time and again I have seen heavy +army trucks lumbering down the avenue, bearing in huge chalk letters on +either side of the awning-covered sides, such inscriptions as--_Bon +jour, Montmartre. A bientot la Cigale--Greetings from the Front_--and +like nonsense, denoting not only a homesick heart, but a delicate +attention towards a well beloved. + +A few months might have made but little difference, but each succeeding +year of war has brought indelible changes. Gone forever, I fear, are +the evenings when after dinner at the Cuckoo, we would stand on the +balcony and watch the gradual fairy-like illumination of the panorama +that stretched out before us. The little restaurant has closed its +doors, but the vision from the terrace is perhaps more majestic, for as +the last golden rays of twilight disappear, a deep purple vapour rising +from the unknown, rolls forward and mysteriously envelops the _Ville +Lumière_ in its sumptuous protecting folds. Alone, overhead the star +lamp of a scout plane is the only visible light. + +The old Moulin de la Galette has cast aside its city airs and taken on +a most rural aspect, while the _maquis_, or jungle on whose site a +whole new white stone quarter had been projected, is now but a mass of +half finished, abandoned foundations, wherein the children of the +entire neighbourhood gather to play at the only game which now has a +vogue, i.e., "War." + +_La petite guerre_ they call it. + +We came upon them quite by accident one afternoon, and discovered two +hostile bands occupying first line trenches. + +Of course, as no one wished to be the Boche, it looked for a time as +though the campaign would have to be deferred, but so violent was the +love of fray that it was soon decided that the _opposite_ side in both +cases would be considered Hun, and thus the difficulty was solved. + +It goes without saying that the school which is first dismissed +occupies the better positions. The others must rely upon their +strength and valour to win out. + +The first attack was with hand grenades in the form of pebbles. +Patrols advanced into No Man's Land, crawling and crouching until with +a yell the belligerents met. Prisoners were taken on both sides. + +"What forces have we in front of us?" demanded an important looking +twelve year old General of an enemy soldier who was brought before him. + +Dead silence ensued. + +"If he refuses to answer, turn him upside down until he does." + +The order was executed. + +From the opposite trench came shrieks of "Boche! Boche!--it's only the +Boche who maltreat prisoners." + +The aforementioned who was rapidly developing cerebral congestion, made +sign that he would speak. + +"Turn him right side up!" + +The young executioner obeyed, but still held a firm grip on the +unfortunate lad's collar. + +"Now, then, how many of you are there in your trenches?" + +"Enough to make jelly out of your men if there are many like you!" +shrieked the captive, struggling to escape. + +"Take him behind the lines, don't be rough with him. Respect is due +all prisoners," ordered the General, whose eye had caught a glimpse of +his army being menaced by the blond headed enemy. + +"Look out, boys! Down with your heads! They're sending over some +'coal scuttles.' Dig in I say and keep a sharp look out! What's the +matter back there?" + +"It's little Michaud. He's wounded!" + +"Don't cry, Michaud, go out by the connecting trench to the dressing +station. It's not far." + +The hail of "coal scuttles" having subsided, the General mounted to his +observation post. + +"Hey! Michel! Gaston! hey there, the artillery!" he yelled. "Get in +at them quick. Go to it, I say. Don't you see they're going to +attack! What's artillery for, anyway?" + +"We can't fire a shot. They're pounding on our munitions dump." + +"What difference does that make?" + +Under heavy fire the artillery achieved the impossible, which actually +resulted in bloodshed. But their determination was soon rewarded, for +the patent "Seventy Fives," represented by huge slabs of sod, soon +rained into the enemy trenches, sowing panic and disorder. + +Profiting by the confusion, our General grabbed up a basket and began +distributing munitions. + +"Attention! Listen to me! Don't any one fire until I give the word. +Let them approach quite close and then each one of you choose your man. +Dentu, if you're too short, stand on a stone or something!" + +The artillery wreaking havoc in his midst, the enemy decided to brusque +matters and attack. He left his trenches shouting, "_Vive la France! +En avant! Aux armes, mes citoyens! A bas le Boche!_" + +"Attention! Are you ready? Fire!" commanded our General. + +Bing! bang! a veritable tornado of over-ripe tomatoes deluged the +astonished oncomers, who hesitated an instant and then fell back. The +standard bearer having received one juicy missile full in the face, +dropped his emblem and stared wild-eyed about him. From the head and +hair of the enemy General, whose cardboard helmet had been crushed to a +pulp, streamed a disgusting reddish mess. The other unfortunate +wounded were weeping. + +"_En avant à la bayonette_! _Vive la France_! We've got them, they're +ours," shrieked the delighted commander, who owed his rank to the fact +that his parents kept a fruit stand. + +It was victory for certain, and a proudly won triumph. The mêlée was +hot and ferocious, many a patch or darn being put in store for certain +patient, all-enduring mothers. + +The dressing station was full to overflowing. Here the feminine +element reigned supreme, their heads eclipsed beneath a stolen dish +cloth, a borrowed towel, or a grimy handkerchief. And here too, little +Michaud, his pate enveloped in so many yards of bandage that he seemed +to be all turban, sat on an impromptu cot, smiling benignly while +devouring a three sou apple tart, due to the generosity of the Ladies' +Red Cross Emergency Committee, which had taken up a collection in order +to alleviate the sufferings of their dear hero. + +To be perfectly frank, almost all the supply of dressings had been +employed on Michaud's person at the very outbreak of hostilities, so, +therefore, when the stock ran short and more were needed, they were +merely unrolled from about his head. + +Leaving him to his fate, we advanced a bit in order to communicate with +one of the glorious vanquished. + +"They think they've got us," he explained, "but just you wait and see! +I know a shop on the Avenue de Clichy where you can get rotten eggs for +nothing! They don't know what's coming to them--they don't!" + +Thus for these little folks the very state of their existence is the +war. They do not talk about it because they are living it. Even those +who are so fortunate as to recall the happy times when there was no +conflict, scarcely assume a superiority over their comrades who cannot +remember that far distant epoch. + +"My papa'll be home next week on furlough if there isn't an attack," or +"Gee, how we laughed down cellar the night of the bombardment," are +common phrases, just as the words, "guns, shells, aeroplanes and gas," +form the very elements of their education. The better informed +instruct the others, and it is no uncommon occurrence to see a group of +five or six little fellows hanging around a doorway, listening to a +gratuitous lecture on the 75, given by an elder. + +"That's not true," cuts in one. "It's not that at all, the +_correcteur_ and the _debouchoir_ are not the same thing. Not by a +long sight! I ought to know, hadn't I, my father's chief gunner in his +battery." + +"Ah, go on! Didn't Mr. Dumont who used to teach the third grade, draw +it all out for us on the blackboard the last time he was home on leave? +What do you take us for? Why he's even got the _Croix de Guerre_ and +the 'Bananna.'" [1] + +Nor is the _communiqué_ ignored by these budding heroes. On the +contrary, it is read and commented upon with fervour. + +In a little side street leading to the Seine, I encountered a ten year +old lad, dashing forward, brandishing the evening paper in his hand. + +"Come on, kids, it's time for the _communiqué_," he called to a couple +of smaller boys who were playing on the opposite curb. The children +addressed (one may have been five, the other seven, or thereabouts) +immediately abandoned their marbles, and hastened to join their +companion, who breathlessly unfolded the sheet. + +"Artillery combats in Flanders----" he commenced. + +The little fellows opened their big candid eyes, their faces were drawn +and grave, in an intense effort of attention. Their mouths gaped +unconsciously. One felt their desire to understand, to grasp things +that were completely out of reach. + +"During the night a spirited attack with hand grenades in the region of +the Four de Paris," continued the reader. "We progressed slightly to +the East of Mort Homme, and took an element of trenches. We captured +two machine guns, and made several prisoners." + +"My papa's in Alsace," piped one listener. + +"And mine's in the Somme." + +"That's all right," inferred the elder. "Isn't mine at Verdun?" and +then proudly, "And machine gunner at that!" + +Then folding his paper and preparing to move on: + +"The news is good--we should worry." + +Yes, that's what the little ones understood best of all, "the news is +good," and a wonderful, broad, angelic smile spread out over their +fresh baby faces; a smile so bewitching that I couldn't resist +embracing them--much to their surprise. + +[Illustration: A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE] + +"I just must kiss you," I explained, "because the news is good!" + +From one end to the other of the entire social scale the children have +this self same spirit. + +Seated at the dining-room table, a big spot of violet ink on one cheek, +I found little Jules Gauthier carefully copying something in a note +book. + +"What are you doing there, Jules?" + +"Writing in my book, Madame." + +"What are you writing?" + +"About the war, everything I can remember." + +At that particular moment he was inscribing an anecdote which he had +just heard some one telling in his mother's drawing room. + +"The President of the Republic once asked General de Castelnau, 'Well, +General, what shall you do after the war is over?' + +"'Weep for my sons, Mr. President.'" + +"But, Jules, why do you write such things?" I queried. + +"Because it's splendid, and I put down everything I know or hear that's +beautiful or splendid." + +And true enough, pêle mêle with portraits he had cut out and pasted, +plans for aeroplanes that he had drawn, were copies of extraordinary +citations for bravery, memorable dates and descriptions of battles. + + +In the Summer of 1915, my friend Jeanne took her small baby and her +daughter Annette, aged five, to their little country home on the +seashore in Brittany. The father, over military age, remained in town +to look after some patriotic work. + +Help was hard to get, and Jeanne not over strong was torn between +household duties and her infant son, so that Annette, clad in a bathing +suit and sweater, spent most of her time on the beach in company with +other small people of her own years. + +Astonished at seeing the little one so much alone, certain kind-hearted +mothers invited her to partake of their bread, chocolate and other +dainties provided for the gouter of their own offspring, and as the +child gladly and continually accepted, her apparent abandon became a +subject of conversation, and they decided to question Annette. + +"Where is your mother, dear?" + +"She's home, very ill." + +"Oh, really. I'm so sorry, what's the trouble--nothing serious, I +hope?" + +"I think it must be--you see she has had her three brothers killed and +now grandpa has enlisted." + +"Dear me, how terrible! And your papa?" + +"Oh, he's in town working for the government. One of his brothers was +killed and the other is blind. Poor old grandma died of the shock." + +Moved by the lamentable plight of so young a mother, the good ladies +sought to penetrate her seclusion, offer their condolences, and help +lift the cloud of gloom. + +Imagine then their surprise at being received by my smiling, +blond-haired friend, who failed to comprehend their mournful but +astonished looks. + +At length Annette's story was brought to light, and Jeanne could but +thank them for their trouble, at the same time explaining that neither +she nor her husband had ever had brothers, and that their parents had +been dead these many years. + +"You naughty, wicked girl!" scolded Jeanne, as her tearful progeny was +led forward. "You wicked, wicked girl--what made you tell such lies?" + +The culprit twisted her hands; her whole body fairly convulsed with +restrained sobs. + +"Answer me at once! Do you hear me?" + +Annette hesitated, and then throwing herself in her mother's arms, +blurted out, "Oh, mamma, I just couldn't help it! All the others were +so proud of their _poilus_, and I haven't any one at the front; not +even a god-son!" + +It seems highly probable that children who have received such an +education will ultimately form a special generation. Poor little +things who never knew what "play" meant, at a time when life should +have been all sunshine and smiles; tender, sensitive creatures brought +up in an atmosphere of privation and tears. + +Those who were between ten and fifteen years of age at the outbreak of +the war have had a particularly hard time. + +In the smaller trades and industries, as well as on the farms, with a +father or an elder brother absent, these youngsters have been obliged +to leave school or college, and hasten to the counter or the plough. +And not only have they been called upon to furnish the helping hand, +but in times of moral stress they have often had to give proof of a +mature judgment, a courage, a will power, and a forebearance far beyond +their years. + +After a ten months' absence, when I opened up my Parisian home, I found +it necessary to change or replace certain electric lighting +arrangements. As usual I called up the Maison Bincteux. + +"_Bien, Madame_, I shall send some one to look after it." + +The next morning my maid announced _La Maison Bincteux_. + +When I reached the hallway, I found the aforesaid _Maison_ to be a lad +some fifteen years old, who might easily have passed for twelve, so +slight was his build. His long, pale, oval face, which seemed almost +unhealthy, was relieved by a pair of snapping blue eyes. + +"Did you bring a letter?" + +"Oh, no, Madame, I am Monsieur Bincteux's son." + +"Then your father is coming later?" + +"Oh, no, Madame, he can't, he is mechanician in the aviation corps at +Verdun. My oldest brother is in the artillery, and the second one has +just left for the front--so I quit school and am trying to help mother +continue the business." + +"How old are you?" + +"I belong to the Class of 1923," came the proud reply. + +"Oh, I see. Come right in then, I'll show you what I need." + +With a most serious and important air he produced a note book, tapped +on the partitions, sounded the walls, took measures and jotted down a +few lines. + +"Very well, Madame, I've seen all that's necessary. I'll be back +to-morrow morning with a workman." + +True to his word he appeared the next day, accompanied by a decrepit, +coughing, asthmatic specimen of humanity, who was hardly worthy of the +honorable title his employer had seen fit to confer. + +Our studio is extremely high, and when it was necessary to stretch out +and raise our double extension ladder, it seemed as though disaster +were imminent. + +We offered our assistance, but from the glance he launched us, I felt +quite certain that we had mortally offended the manager of the _Maison +Bincteux_. He stiffened every muscle, gave a supreme effort, and up +went the ladder. Truly his will power, his intelligence and his +activity were remarkable. + +After surveying the undertaking, he made his calculations, and then +addressing his aid: + +"We'll have to bore here," he said. "The wires will go through there, +to the left and we'll put the switches to the right, just above; go +ahead with the work and I'll be back in a couple of hours." + +The old man mumbled something disobliging. + +"Do what I tell you and don't make any fuss about it. You're better +off here than in the trenches, aren't you? We've heard enough from +you, old slacker." + +The idea that any one dare insinuate that he ought to be at the front +at his age, fairly suffocated the aid electrician, who broke into a fit +of coughing. + +"Madame, Madame," he gasped. "In the trenches? Why I'm seventy-three. +I've worked for his father and grandfather before him--but I've never +seen his like! Why only this very morning he was grumbling because I +didn't ride a bicycle so we could get to places faster!" + +At noon the _Maison Bincteux_ reappeared, accompanied by the General +Agent of the Electric Company. He discussed matters in detail with +this awe inspiring person--objected, retaliated, and finally terminated +his affairs, leaving us a few moments later, having accomplished the +best and most rapid job of its kind I have ever seen. + +With the Class of 1919 now behind the lines, by the time this volume +goes to press, there is little doubt but that the class of 1920 shall +have been called to the colours. All these lads are the little fellows +we used to know in short trousers; the rascals who not so many summers +since climbed to the house-tops, swung from trees, fell into the river, +dropped torpedoes to frighten the horses or who when punished and +locked in their rooms, would jump out the window and escape. + +Then, there were those others, "the good boys," whose collars and socks +were always immaculate, romantic little natures that would kiss your +hand with so much ceremony and politeness, blushing if one addressed +them affectionately, spending whole days at a time lost in fantastic +reveries. + +To us they hardly seem men. And yet they are already soldiers, +prepared to make the supreme sacrifice, well knowing from father, +brothers or friends who have gone before, all the grandeur and +abnegation through which their souls must pass to attain but an +uncertain end. + +Any number of what we would call mere children have been so imbued with +the spirit of sacrifice, that they have joined the army long before +their Class was called. Madame de Martel's grandson, the sons of +Monsieur Barthou, Louis Morin, Pierre Mille, to mention but a few in +thousands, all fell on the Field of Honour before attaining their +eighteenth year. + +And each family will tell you the same pathetic tale: + +"We tried to interest him in his work--we provided all kinds of +amusements; did everything to keep him here; all to no avail. There +was just one thought uppermost in his mind--Enlist--Serve. He was all +we had!" + +Little Jacques Krauss promised his mother he would not go until he had +won his baccalaureate, and my friend lived in the hope that all would +be over by the time the "baby" had succeeded. But, lo! the baby, +unknown to his parents, worked nights, skipped a year, passed his +examination, and left for the front, aged seventeen years and three +months! He had kept his word. What could they do? + +In another household--my friends the G's., where two elder sons have +already been killed, there remained as sole heir, a pale, lanky youth +of sixteen. + +With the news of his brothers' death the flame of vengeance kindled, +and then began a regime of overfeeding, physical exercises, and medical +supervision, that would have made many a stouter heart quail. + +Every week the family is present when the chest measure is taken. + +"Just one more centimetre, and you'll be fit!" exclaims the +enthusiastic father, while on the lashes of the smiling mother form two +bright tears which trickle unheeded down her cheeks. + +There reigns a supernatural enthusiasm among all these youths; an +almost sacred fire burns in their eyes, their speech is pondered but +passionate. They are so glad, so proud to go. They know but one +fear--that of arriving too late. + +"We don't want to belong to the Class that didn't fight." + +And with it all they are so childlike and so simple--these heroes. + +One afternoon, in a tea room near the Bon Marché, I noticed a soldier +in an obscure corner, who, his back turned to us, was finishing with +vigorous appetite, a plate of fancy cakes and pastry. (There was still +pastry in those days--1917.) + +"Good!" thought I. "I'm glad to see some one who loves cakes enjoying +himself!" + +The plate emptied, he waited a few minutes. Then presently he called +the attendant. + +She leaned over, listened to his whispered order, smiled and +disappeared. A moment later she returned bearing a second well laden +dish. + +It was not long before these cakes too had gone the way of their +predecessors. + +I lingered a while anxious to see the face of this robust sweet tooth, +whose appetite had so delighted me. + +He poured out and swallowed a last cup of tea, paid his bill and rose, +displaying as he turned about a pink and white beardless countenance, +that might have belonged to a boy of fifteen--suddenly grown to a man +during an attack of measles. On his breast was the _Medaille +Militaire_, and the _Croix de Guerre_, with three palms. + +This mere infant must have jumped from his school to an aeroplane. At +any rate, I feel quite certain that he never before had been allowed +out alone with sufficient funds to gratify his youthful passion for +sweetmeats and, therefore, profiting by this first occasion, had +indulged himself to the limit. Can you blame him? + + + +[1] The "Bananna"--slang for the Medaille Militaire--probably on +account of the green and yellow ribbon on which it hangs. + + + + +VIII + +To go from Le Mans to Falaise, from Falaise to St. Lo; from St. Lo to +Morlaix, and thence to Poitiers would seem very easy on the map, and +with a motor, in times gone by it was a really royal itinerary, so +vastly different and picturesque are the various regions crossed. But +now that gasolene is handed out by the spoonful even to sanitary +formations, it would be just as easy for the civilian to procure a +white elephant as to dream of purchasing sufficient "gas" to make such +a trip. + +There is nothing to do but take the train, and that means of locomotion +not only requires time, but patience and considerable good humour. +Railway service in France has been decidedly reduced, and while +travelling is permitted only to those persons who must needs do so, the +number of plausible motives alleged has greatly augmented, with the +result that trains are crowded to the extreme limit. To tell the +truth, a good third of the population is always moving. For how on +earth is one to prevent the parents of a wounded hero from crossing the +entire country to see him, or deny them the right to visit a lad at his +training camp? + +This then accounts for the appearance of the Breton peasant's +beribboned hat and embroidered waistcoat on the promenades of the +Riviera, the Arlesian bonnet in the depths of Normandy, the Pyrenese +cap in Lorraine. + +All this heterogeneous crowd forms a long line in front of the ticket +office, each one encumbered with a basket or a bag, a carpetsack or a +bundle containing patés and sausages, pastry and pickles, every known +local dainty which will recall the native village to the dear one so +far away. + +It is thus that from Argentan to Caën I found myself seated between a +stout motherly person from Auvergne, and a little dark man from whose +direction was wafted so strong an odour of garlic that I had no +difficulty discerning from what region he hailed. Next to him were a +bourgeois couple whose mourning attire, red eyes and swollen faces +bespoke plainly enough the bereavement they had just suffered. Silent, +indifferent to everything and everybody, their hands spread out on +their knees, they stared into the ghastly emptiness, vainly seeking +consolation for their shattered dream, their grief-trammelled souls. + +A heavily built couple of Norman farmers occupied the seats on either +side of the door, and then came a tall young girl and her mother, a +Belgian soldier, and finally a strange old creature wearing an +antiquated starched bonnet, a flowered shawl, and carrying an umbrella +such as one sees but in engravings illustrating the modes and customs +of the eighteenth century. She was literally buried beneath a +monumental basket which she insisted upon holding on her knees. + +Every available inch of floor space was covered with crocks and kits +full of provisions, and in the rack above our heads were so many boxes +and bundles, bags and bales, remaining aloft by such remarkable laws of +equilibrium that I feared lest any moment they fall upon our heads, and +once this catastrophe occurred there seemed to be little hope of +extricating oneself from beneath the ruins. + +The conversation was opened by the Norman farmer who offered to relieve +the little old woman of her basket and set it safely between his feet. + +"_Oh, non merci_," she piped in a thin little wavering treble, and an +inimitable accent which made it impossible to guess her origin. + +"Oh, no, Monsieur, thank you," she continued. "It's full of cream +tarts and cherry tarts, and custard pies made right in our own home. +I'm taking them to my boy, and as we stayed up very late to make them +so that they would be quite fresh, I should hate to have any of them +crushed or broken. He did love them so when he was little!" + +"Our son was just the same. As soon as he was able to eat he begged +them to let him have some _brioche_. But his fever was too high when +we got there, and he couldn't take a thing. 'That doesn't matter,' he +said to his mother. 'Just the sight of them makes my mouth water, and +I feel better already.'" + +My Provençal neighbour could no longer resist. His natural +loquaciousness got the better of his reserve. + +"Well, the first thing my son asked for was olives, so I brought him +enough to last, as well as some sausage which he used to relish. Oh, +if only I could bring him a little bit of our blue sky, I'm sure he +would recover twice as quickly." + +The mother of the young girl now sat forward and asked the Norman +farmer's wife where and how her son had been wounded. + +"He had a splinter of shell in his left thigh. He'd been through the +whole campaign without a scratch or a day of illness." + +The woman's eyes sparkled with pride and tenderness. + +The short man beside me, who informed me he was a native of Beaucaire +on the Rhone, had one son wounded and being cared for in a hospital at +Caën, a second prisoner in Germany, and two sons-in-law already killed. + +According to a letter which the dear old flowered shawl spelled out to +us word by word, her grandson had been wounded in seven different +places, and had had one hand and one leg amputated. But he hastened to +add that he was not worrying a bit about it. + +The young girl's mother had one son in the ranks, and a second, aged +seventeen, had enlisted and was about to leave for the front. She and +her daughter were on their way to embrace him for the last time. + +The Belgian soldier was just getting about after an attack of typhoid +fever, and the motherly person on my left was travelling towards her +husband, a territorial of ripe years whose long nights of vigil beneath +bridges and in the mud of the Somme had brought him down with +inflammatory rheumatism. Their son, they prayed, was prisoner--having +been reported missing since the 30th of August, 1914. This coarse, +heavy featured woman of the working classes, cherished her offspring +much as a lioness does her young. She told us she had written to the +President of the Republic, to her Congressman, her Senator, to the King +of Spain, the Norwegian Ambassador, to the Colonel of the Regiment, as +well as to all the friends of her son on whose address she had been +able to lay hand; and she would keep right on writing until she +obtained some result, some information. She could not, would not, +admit that her boy was lost; and scarcely stopping to take breath she +would ramble on at length, telling of her hopes and her disappointments +to which all the compartment listened religiously while slowly the +train rolled along through the smiling, undulating Norman country. + +Each one did what he could to buoy up the mother's hopes. + +The little Southerner seemed to possess a countless number of stories +about prisoners, and he presently proceeded to go into minute detail +about the parcels he sent to his own son, explaining the regulation as +to contents, measures and weights, with so much volubility that the +good soul already saw herself preparing a package to be forwarded to +her long lost darling. + +"You can just believe that he'll never want for anything--if clothes +and food will do him any good. There's nothing on earth he can't have +if only we can find him, if only he comes back to us." + +And growing bolder as she felt the wealth of sympathy surrounding her, +she looked over and addressed the woman in mourning, who at that moment +smiled gently at her. + +"We thought we knew how much we loved them, didn't we, Madame? But +we'd never have realised how really deep it was if it hadn't been for +this war, would we?" + +The woman continued to smile sadly. + +"More than likely you've got somebody in it too," persisted the stout +Auvergnate, whose voice suddenly became very gentle and trembled a +trifle. + +"I _had_ three sons. We have just buried the last one this morning." + +All the faces dropped and a ghastly silence fell upon the group. Each +one looked straight into the distance ahead of him, but the bond of +sympathy was drawn still tighter, and in the moment of stillness that +ensued I felt that all of us were communing with Sorrow. + + +Between Folligny and Lamballe, we were quite as closely huddled between +three soldiers on furlough, a stout old priest, a travelling salesman, +and a short gentleman with a pointed beard, a pair of eyeglasses and an +upturned nose. + +At one moment our train halted and waited an incredible length of time +vainly whistling for the tower-man to lift the signal which impeded our +progress. + +The travelling salesman who was cross and weary finally left his seat, +grumbling audibly. + +"We'll never in the world get there on time. It's certain I shall miss +my connection! What a rotten road! What management!" + +"It's the war," murmered the priest pulling out a red checked +handkerchief in which he buried his nose. + +"You don't have to look far to see that," responded the other, still +grumbling. + +"Oh, it's plain enough for us all right. Those who are handling +government jobs are the only fellows who don't know it, I should say." + +"Bah! each of us has his troubles--each of us has his Cross to bear," +murmured the Father by way of conciliation, casting his eyes around the +compartment, much as he would have done upon the faithful assembled to +hear him hold forth. + +"Pooh! it's you priests who are the cause of all the trouble. It was +you who preached and got the three year service law voted." + +The poor Curate was fairly suffocated with surprise and indignation. +He was so ruffled he could hardly find a word. In the meantime the +travelling salesman taking advantage of his silence, continued: + +"Yes, it was you and the financiers, and it's nothing to brag about +either!" + +The man with the upturned nose now wheeled about sharply. His blood +was up and he strangely resembled a little bantam cockerel. + +"Monsieur," he snapped, and his voice was clear and cutting, "if any +one had a right to express a complaint on any subject whatsoever, it +would certainly be the soldiers who are seated in this compartment. +Now as they have said nothing, I cannot admit that you, a civilian, +should take such liberties." + +"But, Monsieur----" + +"Yes, Monsieur, that's exactly what I mean, and as to the sentiments to +which you have given voice they are as stupid as they are odious. We +all know now that war was inevitable. The Germans have been preparing +it for forty years." + +"Monsieur!" + +"Monsieur!" + +The two glared fixedly at each other for an instant; the one was very +red, the other extremely pale. Then they turned about and resumed +their places in each corner. The priest produced his breviary, the +soldiers finished a light repast composed of bread and cheese. + +They were all three peasants, easily discernible from the way they +slowly chewed and swallowed, or caught up a crumb of cheese on the +point of their knives. They had sat silent and listened to the +outbursts without turning an eyelash. Then presently one of them +lifted his head and addressing his companions in a deep bass voice: + +"Well," said he, "this makes almost two days now that we've been on the +way!" + +"What have you got to kick about?" retaliated the other, shutting his +knife and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're as well +off here as you were in the trenches of Bois Le Pretre, aren't you?" + +The third one said nothing, but recommenced carving a cane which he had +abandoned for an instant, and which he was terminating with more +patience than art, though the accomplishment of his task seemed to give +him infinite pleasure. + +As the commercial traveller had predicted, we were hours late and in +consequence missed our connection, but the platform of a station where +two lines meet, offers, under such circumstances, so diverse and +diverting a spectacle that we hardly regretted the delay. It is here +that any one interested in physiognomy can best study and judge the +masses, for it is as though the very texture from which France is woven +were laid bare before him. This spectacle is constantly changing, +constantly renewed, at times deeply moving. No face can be, or is, +indifferent, in these days and one no longer feels himself a detached +individual observer; one becomes an atom of the crowd, sharing the +anxiety of certain women that one knows are on their way to a hospital +and who half mad with impatience are clutching the fatal telegram in +one hand, while with the fingers of the other they thrum on one cheek +or nervously catch at a button or ornament of their clothing. + +Or again one may participate in the hilarious joy of the men on +furlough, who having discovered the pump, stand stripped to the waist, +making a most meticulous toilet, all the while teasing a fat, +bald-headed chap to whom they continuously pass their pocket combs with +audible instructions to be sure to put his part on the left side. + +The waiting-rooms literally overflow with soldiers--some stretched out +on the benches, some on the floor; certain lying on their faces, others +on their backs, and still others pillowing their heads on their +knapsacks. + +One feels their overpowering weariness, their leaden sleep after so +many nights of vigil; their absolute relaxation after so many +consecutive days in which all the vital forces have been stretched to +the breaking point. + +From time to time an employé opens the door and shouts the departure of +a train. The soldiers rouse themselves, accustomed to being thus +disturbed in the midst of their slumber. One or two get up, stare +about them, collect their belongings and start for the platform, +noiselessly stepping over their sleeping companions. At the same time +newcomers, creeping in behind them, sink down into the places which +they have just forsaken, while they are still warm. + +On a number of baggage trucks ten or a dozen Moroccan soldiers have +seated themselves, crosslegged, and draped in their noble burnous, they +gently puff smoke into the air, without a movement, without a gesture, +without a sound, apparently utterly oblivious to the noisy employés, or +the thundering of the passing trains. + +On the platform people walk up and down, up and down; certain among +them taking a marked interest in the old-fashioned, wheezing +locomotives which seem fairly to stagger beneath the long train of +antiquated coaches hitched behind them. + +Here, of course, are to be found the traditional groups in evidence at +every station; a handful of people in deep mourning on their way to a +funeral; a little knot of Sisters of Charity, huddled together in an +obscure corner reciting their rosary; families of refugees whom the +tempest has driven from their homes--whole tribes dragging with them +their old people and their children who moan and weep incessantly. +Their servants loaded down with relics saved from the disaster in +heavy, clumsy, ill-tied bundles, are infinitely pitiable to behold. +They are all travelling straight ahead of them with no determined end +in view. They seem to have been on the way so long, and yet they are +in no haste to arrive. Hunger gnawing them, they produce their +provisions, and having seated themselves on their luggage, commence a +repast, eating most slowly, the better to kill time while waiting for a +train that refuses to put in an appearance. + +The _buffet_ is so full of noise, smoke and various other odours, that +having opened the door one hesitates before entering. There is a long +counter where everything is sold; bread, wine, cider, beer and +lemonade; sandwiches, patés, fruit and sweetmeats. One makes his +choice and pays in consequence. At the side tables the civilians are +lost mid the mass of blue uniforms. + +[Illustration: MONSIEUR AMÉDÉ] + +This is a station in Normandy, and for the boys of this region nothing +can substitute a good big bowl of hot vegetable soup, seasoned with the +famous _graisse normande_ and poured over thin slices of bread, the +whole topped off with a glass of cider or "pure juice" as they call it. +It is a joy to see them seated about the board, their elbows on the +table, their heads bent forward over the steaming bowl, whose savoury +perfume as it rises to their nostrils seems to carry with it a +veritable ecstasy, if one were to judge by the beatific expression on +every countenance. + +"That goes right to the spot, doesn't it?" + +From another table a voice responds: + +"Yes, fellows, it's better than a kick in the shins, every time!" + +The last mouthful gone, the cider bottles empty, they tighten the +straps of their kit bags and rise regretfully from their seats. + +"_Allez_. Off again, boys! _C'est la guerre_!" and they shuffle away +humming and filling their pipes. + +From the direction of the _buvette_, or bar comes noisy laughter +followed by oaths. The uncertain voice of a seemingly intoxicated +individual dominates all others. Yet nothing but soft drinks are sold. + +"As the Colonel of the 243rd used to say," it continues, "'Soldiers of +my regiment, repose upon your arms!' My arms are the bottle! My +bottle and my wife are the only things worth while when I'm on +furlough. I----" + +His voice disappeared an instant, dimmed by the rising tumult. Then +suddenly it broke forth anew-- + +"Attention! Present arms, here comes a coal scuttle. Now +then,--flatten out on the back of your stomach!" + +An instant later the man appeared at the threshold of the dining room. + +He was a heavily built, big jointed, husky Norman farmer-soldier, with +his helmet pulled down low over his eyes, so that the upper part of his +face was completely hidden from view. + +Suddenly he pushed it far back on his head, and casting a sweeping +glance over the assembled diners, he called forth in stentorian tones +that made every one turn around: + +"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" + +The cashier behind the counter, who evidently foresaw trouble, called +out to him in shrill tones: + +"You've made a mistake, go back to the _buvette_. You've nothing to do +out here!" + +Removing his helmet, the gallant knight made the lady a sweeping bow. + +"Your servant, Madame. Your humble servant," he continued. "Cyprien +Fremont, called Cyp for short." + +"Did you hear what I said? Now then, take yourself off," cried the +ungracious adored one. + +But the _poilu_ was not to be so silenced. + +Putting his hand to his heart and addressing the assembly: + +"Ungrateful country!" he cried, "is it thus that you receive your sons +who shed their blood for you?" + +"That's all right, but go and tell it elsewhere. Go on, I say!" + +"I've only got one more word to say and then it will be over." + +But before he could utter that word his companions seized him and +dragged him back from whence he came. As he disappeared from view, we +heard him announce his intention of "doing some stunts"--which offer +was apparently joyously accepted, followed by more laughter and several +"dares." + +Suddenly the most terrific noise of falling and breaking glass and +china brought every one to his feet. Excited voices could be heard +from the direction in which Cyprien had vanished. The army police +dashed in, followed by the station master and all the employés. A +lengthy discussion was begun, and having finished our dinner we left +matters to adjust themselves and sauntered forth onto the platform. + +Here we found our Cyprien surrounded by his companions, who were busy +disinfecting and binding up the wounds that he had received when the +china cabinet had collapsed upon him. One of the men poured the +tincture of iodine onto a hand held fast by a friend. Two others were +rolling a bandage about his head, while the patient, far from subdued, +waved the only free but much enveloped hand that he possessed, beating +time to the air that he was literally shouting and in whose rather bald +verse the station master's wife was accused of the grossest infidelity. + +"Shh! Cyprien," his friends enjoined; "shut up a bit, can't you?" + +But it was no easy thing to impose silence upon Cyprien when he had +made up his mind to manifest a thought or an opinion. + +"You'll get us all into trouble, old man, see if you don't. Cut it +out, won't you? See, here comes an officer." + +The officer approached them. + +"It's not his fault, sir," began one of the fellows, before his +superior had time to ask a question. "I assure you, it's not his +fault. He's just back from Saloniki--his first furlough in a year, +sir. It must have gone to his head. I swear he hasn't had anything +but cider to drink, sir." + +"But that's no excuse for making all this noise. Show me his military +book!" + +The officer took it, ran through the pages, and then approached Cyprien. + +At the sight of the gold braid Cyprien stood up and saluted. + +"Before you went to Saloniki, I see you fought at Verdun." + +"Yes, sir." + +"And at Beausejour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And Vauquois?" + +"Yes, sir." + +The eyes of the two veterans met; the officer's glance seeking to +pierce that of the soldier in front of him. Then suddenly, in an +irresistible burst of sympathy and respect, he thrust out his hand and +caught up one of Cyprien's bandaged pair. + +"I was there, too," was all he said. + +Instantly sobered, our hero straightened up and literally crushed his +superior's fingers in his mighty fist. + +"Come with me," said the officer; "I know a place where you can rest +until it's time to leave. And you boys here," said he turning towards +them, "you'll see to it that he doesn't miss his train." + +Night, inky black, fathomless night, had now settled about us. In the +distance one could just discern the red and green signal lamps--at +closer range the burning tip of a cigar or cigarette. The soldiers +turned up their collars. The wind shifting to the north was piercing +cold. One had to walk briskly up and down to avoid becoming chilled. +Way at the other end of the platform the flare of fugitive matches +revealed shadows moving about as though searching for something upon +the ground. + +"What are you looking for?" + +"A third-class return ticket for Royan. That old lady over there has +lost hers." + +We turned about to see a poor old wrinkled soul, in her native Norman +costume, wringing her hands in distress. + +"What a misfortune! Oh dear, oh dear, what a misfortune! What will +become of me now? What shall I do?" + +And to each inquisitive newcomer she babbled forth her story of a +wounded grandson whom she was on her way to visit. The curate and +another man of her village had seen to her expenses. They had +purchased her ticket and handed it to her with strict instructions not +to lose it. For safety's sake she had knotted it in the corner of her +handkerchief--and now it wasn't there! + +The inquirer then examined her handkerchief, made her stand up and +shake her clothing, turn her pockets inside out, empty her baskets and +her handbag; and still not willing to trust the thoroughness of his +predecessors he would begin looking all over the immediate vicinity, +match in hand. So presently nearly two hundred men, forgetting their +soreness and fatigue, were down on their knees scouring every nook and +cranny. The sleepers were awakened, the drinkers routed out and put to +work, scanning every inch of ground. + +A loud and persistent ringing of an electric bell sounded on the air. + +"Hey there, fellows!" called a tall Zouave. "Get together, the train +is announced, and since we can't find grandma's ticket we can't leave +the old girl alone in the dark, so come on, chip in--we'll make it up +to her. She says it cost forty-two francs and ten centimes. Are you +ready?" + +And removing his helmet he started to make the rounds. In an instant +coppers and silver rang in the steel recipient. + +"Stop! that's enough." + +They retired to count. + +"Chic--there's some left over!" + +"Never mind, she'll buy something for the kid with it." + +Some one purchased the ticket. + +"There now, grandma, a new ticket and enough to buy your boy a cake +with, so you should worry! But as you're too young to travel alone, +we're going to take you in with us. We just happen to be going your +way. Here Ballut, Langlois! Quick there--take her baskets. Now then, +don't let go my arm--here comes the train. Sh! don't cry, there's +nothing to bawl about, we're all good fellows--all of us got grandmas +who'd make just as big fools of themselves if they had to travel." + +And with infinite care and tenderness a dozen hands hoisted their +precious burden into the dimly lighted wooden-benched compartment. + +Yes, travelling in France under such circumstances is to me more +interesting than ever, for when it is not one's fellow passengers who +hold the attention, there are always those thousand and one outside +incidents which the eye retains involuntarily. War factories and +munition plants sprung from the ground as though by magic; immense +training camps in course of construction, aviation fields over which so +cleverly hover those gigantic, graceful war birds, who on catching +sight of the train fly low and delight the astonished passengers by +throwing them a greeting, or, challenging the engineer, enter into a +race. + +But above all, there is the natural panorama; that marvellous +succession of hills and vales, hamlets and rivers, fields and gardens, +so wonderfully harmonious beneath the pearl tinted sky. How it all +charms and thrills, and how near the surface is one's emotion on +hearing a soldier voice exclaim: + +"What a country to die for!" + + +So the hours sped by, and at length we reached our destination. P---- +is a flourishing little city, perched on the side of a rocky hill, with +a broad landscape spreading out at its feet. + +The best hotel is called "L'hotel des Hommes Illustres"--and its façade +is adorned with the statues of the above mentioned gentlemen carved in +stone. The proprietor, who built the edifice and paid the bill, having +been sole judge in the choice of celebrities, the result is as +astonishing as it is eclectic, and though absolutely devoid of beauty, +thoroughly imposing. + +We arrived before our luggage, which was conveyed by so old and puffy a +horse that we considered it criminal not to leave our cab and finish +the hill on foot. At the top of a monumental staircase we entered the +hotel office, behind whose desk were enthroned two persons of most +serious aspect; the one, stout and florid of complexion with a long +nose and an allure worthy of Louis XIV, proudly bore upon her head such +an extraordinary quantity of blond hair arranged in so complicated a +fashion that I trembled to think of the time required to dress it. The +other, sallow faced, with a long curved chin, might have been taken for +a Spanish Infanta, pickled in vinegar and allspice. + +The formality of greetings accomplished, princess number one produced a +book in which we were to sign our names. The dignity and importance +she attached to this ceremony would certainly not have been misplaced +in a Grand Chamberlain preparing the official register for the +signature of Peace preliminaries. + +This, together with the manner in which she took note of our names, +drying them with a spoonful of gold sand, gave me the illusion that I +had just performed some important rite. + +"One or two rooms?" she queried. + +"One big room, Madame." + +"With or without bath?" demanded the co-adjutor, whose voice possessed +a contralto quality utterly out of keeping with her pale blond hair and +complexion. + +"With bath, please." + +A new register was opened. Both bent over it closely, each showing the +other a different paragraph with her fore finger. Finally they +murmured a few inaudible syllables and then shook their heads. + +"Would you prefer number six or number fourteen?" finally asked the +Infanta. + +We looked at each other in astonishment, neither being superstitious +about numbers, but it would have been painful to announce to these +ladies that the matter was totally indifferent to us. They had been so +condescending as to allow us a choice. + +"Number six has a balcony and two windows. Number fourteen has one +window and a bathroom," the princess informed us. + +"But," continued the Infanta, "it is our duty to inform you that hot +water has been forbidden by the municipal authorities, and that cold +water is limited to two pitchers per person, per room." + +I said I would take number six, which arrangement terminated the +ladies' mental indecision, and seemed to please them greatly. They +smiled benignly upon us. + +The smaller one, whom I have called the coadjutor, because her throne +was less elevated than the princess', put her finger on a button and a +violent ringing broke the silence of the vast hallway. No one answered. + +Three times she repeated the rings, with an imperious movement. + +"Be kind enough to go and call Monsieur Amédé, Mademoiselle Laure." + +On her feet, Mademoiselle Laure was even smaller than when seated. She +crossed the vestibule, opened a door, and her strong voice resounded +along an empty corridor from which issued the odour of boiling +cauliflower. + +"Monsieur Amédé!" she shouted anew, but not even an echo responded. + +"Mademoiselle Laure, ask for the head waiter." + +Mademoiselle Laure recrossed the vestibule and opening a door +diametrically opposed to the other, called: + +"Monsieur Balthazard!" + +Monsieur Balthazard appeared, his shirt sleeves rolled up beyond his +elbow, wiping his hands on a blue gingham apron. He was a little slim +man who may have been sixty years old. A glass eye gave him a +sardonic, comic or astonished air, according to the way he used his +good one, which was constantly moving, at the same time that it was +clear and piercing. + +"Monsieur Balthazard--what an attire for a head waiter!" + +"Madame, I was just rinsing the wine barrels." + +"And how about the errands for the people in rooms twenty-four and +twenty-seven." + +A noise at the hall door attracted our attention. It was as though +some one were making desperate and fruitless attempts to open it. + +"There he is now," exclaimed Monsieur Balthazard. "I'll go and let him +in. He's probably got his hands full." + +Monsieur Amédé, literally swamped beneath his bundles, staggered into +the vestibule. To the different errands confided to his charge by the +hotel's guests had undoubtedly been added the cook's list, for an +enormous cabbage and a bunch of leeks completely hid his face, which +was uncovered only as he let them fall to the ground. + +When he had finally deposited his treasures, we discovered a small lad +about fourteen or fifteen years of age, dressed in a bellboy's uniform +which had been made for some one far more corpulent of stature. The +sleeves reached far down over his hands, the tight fitting, gold +buttoned jacket strangely resembled a cross between a bag and an +overcoat, and though a serious reef had been taken in the trousers at +the waist line, the legs would twist and sway--at times being almost as +ample as those worn by the Turkish sultanas. + +Our coachman now arrived with our luggage. + +"Monsieur Amédé, take this luggage and accompany Monsieur and Madame to +number six." + +The child gathered up his new burden and started upstairs. + +We followed, helping him pick up the various objects which successively +escaped his grasp. + +"Goodness, it seems to me you're awfully young to be doing such heavy +work!" + +"Oh," said he, wiping his brow, "I'm very lucky. My mother is cook +here, and Monsieur Balthazard is my uncle. With old fat Julia, the +maid, and Mathilde, the linen woman, we're all that's left. All the +men have gone to war, and the women into the powder mills. We keep the +hotel going, we do." + +Monsieur Amédé was full of good will, and a desire to help me all he +could. He explained to us that he was now building the solid +foundation of a future whose glories he hardly dare think, so numerous +and unfathomable did they seem. Unfortunately, however, we were +obliged to note that he seemed little gifted for the various +occupations to which he had consecrated his youth--and his glorious +future--for in less than five minutes he had dropped a heavy valise on +my toes, and upset an ink-well, whose contents dripped not only onto +the carpet but onto one of my new bags. In trying to repair damages, +Monsieur Amédé spoiled my motor veil and got several large spots on the +immaculate counterpane, after which he bowed himself out, wiping his +hands on the back of his jacket, assuring us that there was no harm +done, that no one would scold us, nor think of asking us for damages. + +We saw him again at dinner time, when disguised as a waiter he passed +the different dishes, spilling sauce down people's necks, tripping on +his apron and scattering the handsome pyramids of fruit hither and yon. +Lastly he took a plunge while carrying out an over-loaded tray, but +before any one could reach him he was on his feet, bright and smiling, +exclaiming: + +"I'm not hurt. No harm done. I'll just sweep it up. It won't stain." + +In the meantime quiet, skilful Uncle Balthazard strained every nerve in +a herculean effort to keep his temper and serve thirty persons all at +once. + +It was touching to hear the old man murmur, "Gently, boy--go gently," +as his youthful protégé stumbled from one blunder to another. "Go +gently, you can be so clever when you're not in a hurry!" + +Monsieur Amédé almost caused us to miss the train next evening in spite +of the numerous warnings from the princess behind the desk, who had +arranged the hour of our departure. That brilliant young man who had +been sent ahead with our luggage was nowhere to be found when our train +was announced. My husband, a woman porter, a soldier on furlough who +knew him, started out to scour the immediate surroundings of the +station, finally locating him in a backyard near the freight depot, his +hands in his pockets, excitedly following a game of nine-pins at which +a group of convalescent African soldiers was playing. + +Of course he immediately explained that there was no harm done since +the train was twenty minutes late, and when finally it arrived and he +handed our baggage into the compartment, he accidentally let slip a +little wooden box containing an old Sevres vase, which I had purchased +at an antiquity dealer's that very morning. + +He picked it up, exclaiming: + +"Lucky it's not fragile." + +And lifting his cap, on whose visor one might read "Hotel des Homines +Illustres," he cheerfully wished us a _Bon voyage_. + + + + +IX + +Before the war it used to be Aunt Rose's victoria that met us at the +station; a victoria drawn by a shiny span and driven by pompous old +Joseph, the coachman, clad in a dark green, gold-buttoned livery and +wearing a cockade on his hat. Aunt Rose's coachman, and the Swiss at +Notre Dame were classed among the curiosities of the city, as could be +attested by the numerous persons who hastened to their doorstep to see +the brilliant equipage pass by. + +But this time we found the victoria relegated beside the old "Berline" +which Aunt Rose's great-grandmother had used to make a journey to +Italy; the horses had been sent out to the farm, where they were +needed, and Joseph, fallen from the glory of his box, attired in a +striped alpaca vest, and wearing a straw hat, half civilian, half +servant, seemed a decidedly puffy old man, much aged since our last +visit. + +"Monsieur and Madame will be obliged to take the omnibus. Will +Monsieur kindly give me the baggage check?" + +Then as I fumbled in my purse-- + +"Monsieur and Madame will find many changes, I fear." + +But in spite of his prophecy to us there seemed little difference. The +rickety old omnibus rattled and bumped noisily over the pointed cobble +pavements, the tiny city merely seemed asleep behind its drawn blinds +and its closed shutters. At the corner of the square in front of the +château the old vegetable vendor still sold her products seated beneath +her patched red cotton parasol; the Great Dane watchdog lay in exactly +the same place on the tinker's doorstep. Around the high church tower +the crows circled and cawed as usual, while the bell of its clock +which, as we passed, slowly struck three, was echoed by the distant +hills with the same familiar sound. + +The omnibus deposited us at the entrance to the big roomy edifice which +Aunt Rose called "home." + +The broad façade, evenly pierced by its eighteen long French windows, +had a genial, inviting appearance, while the soft rose colour of the +bricks, the white stone trimming, the iron balconies, mingled here and +there with bas-reliefs and sculptures, were in perfect harmony with the +tall slanting slate roof and majestic chimneys, the whole forming one +of those delightful ensembles constructed by local architects during +the 17th century for the pleasure and comfort of a large French +bourgeois family. + +Aunt Rose herself, leaning upon an ivory-headed cane, but bright eyed +and alert as ever, awaited us at the top of the steps. From her we +soon learned that we had missed our friends the M.'s by but a day, and +that little André, son of our cousins in Flers, had announced his visit +for the following Monday. + +At this point Friquet, her old Pomeranian favourite, crept down from +his cushion and approached us. + +"He doesn't bark any more, so you know he must be getting old," smiled +Aunt Rose, caressing her pet. + +"My poor Victoire is getting on, too, I fear. Her nephew is stone +blind since the battle of the Marne. Joseph has lost two of his +grandsons; of course, he didn't tell you--he doesn't want any one to +speak of it--but he's very much upset by it. Nicholas and Armandine do +nothing but worry about their poor little Pierre, who hasn't given a +sign of life for three months now--so I fear you will have to be very +patient and very indulgent guests." + +The delightful old lady led us to our room, "the psyche room" we, the +youngsters, used to call it on account of the charming grisaille wall +paper, dating from the end of the Empire period, and representing in +somewhat stiff but none the less enchanting manner the amorous +adventures of that goddess. + +I have always had a secret feeling that many a time, urged by her +confessor, Madame de C. had been upon the point of obliterating or +removing those extremely chaste nude images. But at the last moment +rose up the horror of voluntarily changing anything in the homestead, +transforming a whole room that she always had known thus, and perhaps +the unavowed fear of our ridicule and reproach, had made her renounce +her project. + +"Brush up quickly, and come right down to tea. We've got so many +things to talk over. You've so much to tell me!" + +So a quarter of an hour later, tea-cup in hand, we must needs go into +the details of our trips, inform her of our hopes and fears, tell of +all the different things we had seen--what America was going to +do--what it had already accomplished. And with her marvellously quick +understanding, her vivacious intelligence, the old lady classified the +facts and the anecdotes, asked us to repeat dates and numbers, that she +might the better retain them in her splendid memory. + +All through dinner and the long evening she plied us with questions, +kept the conversation running along the same lines, returning now and +then to a certain theme, or certain figures, and asking us to go into +even more detail. + +"I know I'm an abominable old egoist," at length she apologised. "But +you'd forgive me if only you realised how much happiness your stories +will bring, and to how many people. I imagine that you haven't had +much time for correspondence with our family--but that's all an old +woman like myself is good for these days." + +"Our family" consisted in relationship to the 'nth degree of all the +H's, de C's, B's and F's that were then in existence, some of them such +distant cousins that Aunt Rose herself would never have recognised them +had they met. And besides these people there were her friends, her +servants, her farmers, possibly a group of three hundred persons with +whom the good soul corresponded, giving news of the ones to the others, +announcing misfortunes or joys--a living link between us all. + +Left a widow when still quite young, Aunt Rose had lived with and +respected the memory of her husband. Though she had had many an offer, +she had never cared to remarry. But unable to stand the damp climate +of Normandy, she had returned to her family homestead in this little +city of the Bourbonnais, in whose suburbs she possessed quite a fortune +in farm lands. Alone in the world, with no immediate family, she had +devoted herself not only to her own, but to her husband's relatives. +Her home had always been the _havre de grace_, known and venerated by +them all; a meeting place for reconciliation between persons whose +self-control had escaped them; the shelter for prodigal and repentant +sons who awaited the forgiveness of their justly wrathful sires; the +comforting haven that seemed to assuage the pangs of departure and +bereavement. But above all it was the one spot for properly +celebrating family anniversaries, announcing engagements, and spending +joyous vacations. + +The war had been the cause of a great deal of hard work in this respect. + +"Why, I receive more letters than a State functionary," Aunt Rose +informed me when I came upon her early the next morning, already +installed behind her huge flat-topped desk, her tortoise-shell +spectacles tipped down towards the end of her very prominent nose. + +"For nearly four years I've been writing on the average of twenty +letters a day and I never seem to catch up with my correspondence. +Why, I need a secretary just to sort out and classify it. You haven't +an idea the different places that I hear from. See, here are your +letters from the United States. Léon is in the Indo-Chinese Bank in +Oceania. Albert is mobilised at Laos, Quentin in Morocco. Jean-Paul +and Marcel are fighting at Saloniki; Emilien in Italy. Marie is +Superior in a convent at Madrid; Madeline, Sister of Charity at Cairo. +You see I've a world-wide correspondence. + +"Look," she continued, opening a deep drawer in one side of her desk, +"here are the letters from my _poilus_ and, of course, these are only +the answered ones. The dear boys just love to write and not one of +them misses a week without doing so. I'm going to keep them all. +Their children may love to have them some day." + +Then she opened a smaller drawer, and my eye fell upon a dozen or +fifteen packages, all different in size and each one enveloped in white +tissue paper, carefully tied about with grey silk ribbon. + +"These were written by our dear departed," she said simply. + +In an instant they passed before my eyes, those "dear departed." Big, +tall William, so gay and so childish, he who used to play the ogre or +the horse, or anything one wished: a person so absolutely indispensable +to their games that all the little folk used to gather beneath his +window early in the morning, crying in chorus: "Uncle William! Uncle +William! do wake up and come down and play!" + +[Illustration: FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUÉ IN A LITTLE +FRENCH CITY] + +Jean-François, the engineer; Philippe, the architect; Honoré, whom we +dubbed "Deshonoré," because he used always to return empty-handed when +we went hunting together. Gone, gone forever! + +Aunt Rose picked up one of the smaller packages. + +"These were from little Jacques." And two bright tears trembled on her +lashes. + +"You remember him, of course, my dear. He was an orphan, he never knew +his mother. I always supposed that is what made him so distant and +reserved. Jean, his guardian, who is very severe, used to treat him as +he did his own children--scolding him often about his indolence, his +lack of application to his studies. + +"I used to have him here with me during his vacations. He loved this +old house--and I knew it. Sometimes when you would all start out for +some excursion I'd see him coming back towards the gate: + +"'You're not going with them then, Jacques?' + +"'No, thank you, Aunt Rose, it's so nice in your drawing-room.' + +"When he was just a little baby I often wanted to take him onto my lap +and laugh and play with him. But he was so cold and distant! A funny +little mite, even with boys of his own age. Nobody seemed to +understand him exactly; certain people even thought that his was a +surly nature. + +"He spent his last furlough here, and I found quite a change in him. +He was more robust and tanned. A splendid looking fellow, and I was so +proud of him. + +"'Aunt Rose,' he asked even before we embraced, 'is there any one else +stopping with you?' + +"'Why no, child, and I'm afraid you'll find the house very empty. If +only I'd known you were coming I most certainly should have invited +your cousins.' + +"'Oh, I'm so glad you didn't! I much prefer being alone with you.' + +"He came and went in the house, but never could be persuaded to go +outside the yard. I should have loved to have taken him with me and +shown his War Cross to some of my old friends. But he wouldn't hear of +it. + +"'Pooh!' he would laugh when I would suggest such a thing. 'If ever +they come near me I'll tell them I've got "trench pest"--and then +you'll see them clear out.' + +"He went down in the kitchen and I'd hear him pottering around. I +never knew him so gay and happy. + +"'Tante Rose, I'm going to sing you "La Madelon" and the "Refrain de la +Mitraille." It was Planchet, the tinsmith, who composed it!' + +"He'd sit for hours in that big blue armchair, blinking at the fire, +and then suddenly he'd come to earth and explain: + +"'Aunt Rose, what a pleasure to be here.' + +"When finally he had to go back, he caught me and whispered in my ear, +as I kissed him: + +"'Next time, Tante, you promise me not to invite any one, won't you?' + +"Poor child, he will never come back, and his friend Planchet, the +tinsmith, saw him fall with a bullet through his heart. It was he who +wrote me the sad news. + +"Well, my dear, what mystery the soul hides within itself! In one of +the cupboards of the room he occupied I found two note books and a +diary filled with verses he had never shown to any one, never admitted +having written. How little we guessed what he was about when we +scolded him for his indolence and inattention. If you only knew what +accents, what harmonious phrases he found to depict the shades of our +trees, the rippling of the river, the perfume of the flowers and his +love for us all. + +"There is a whole chapter devoted to the old homestead. He seemed to +feel everything, divine everything, explain everything. None of us +understood him. There is no use pretending we did. Not one among us +would ever have guessed that so splendid and delicate a master of the +pen lived and moved amongst us." + +Aunt Rose looked straight out onto the sun-lit court, the great tears +trickling down her cheeks. + +For a long time neither of us spoke. + + +Like its mistress, Aunt Rose's home lives to serve the war. The +culinary realm is always busily engaged preparing _patés_ and +_galantines_, _rillettes_ and sausages. "For our boys," is the answer +almost before the question is put. "They're so glad to get home-made +dainties, and are always clamouring for more--no matter how much you +send! + +"Since they must eat preserved food, we might as well send them +something we make ourselves, then we're sure it's the best. Why, I'd +be ashamed to go out and buy something and send it off without knowing +who had handled it." This was the cook's idea of patriotism, which I +shared most heartily, having at one time had nothing but "bully beef" +and dried beans as constant diet for nearly a fortnight. + +The coachman and inside man sealed the crocks and tins, prepared and +forwarded the packages. + +"Oh, there's one for everybody! Even the boys of the city who haven't +got a family to look after them. They must be mighty glad Madame's +alive. We put in one or two post cards, views of the town. That +cheers them up and makes them feel they're not forgotten here in R----." + +One afternoon on descending into the kitchen we beheld two sturdy +looking fellows seated at table and eating with ravenous appetite. One +was an artilleryman who had but a single arm, the other a _chasseur_, +whose much bandaged leg was reposing upon a stool. + +"They are wounded men on convalescent leave," explained Armandine. +"The poor fellows need a little humouring so that they'll build up the +quicker, and an extra meal surely can't hurt!" + +This was certainly the opinion of the two invalids who had just +disposed of a most generous bacon omelet, and were about to dig into a +jar of _paté_. + +Armandine and Nicholas watched them eat with evident admiration, fairly +drinking up their words when between mouthsful they would stop for +breath and deign to speak. Their rustic eloquence was like magic balm +poured onto a constantly burning, ulcerated sore. + +"Your son? Why, of course, he'll turn up!" the artilleryman assured +them. + +"But he hasn't written a line!" + +"That's nothing. Now just suppose that correspondence is forbidden in +his sector for the time being." + +"I know, but it's three months since we heard from him. We've written +everywhere, to all the authorities, and never get any returns--except +now and then a card saying that they're giving the matter their +attention. That's an awfully bad sign, isn't it?" + +"Not at all, not at all," chimed in the _chasseur_. "Why, some of the +missing have been found in other regiments, or even in the depots, and +nobody knows how they got there. + +"Three months? Why, that's not long. After the battle of the Marne my +poor old mother had them say Heaven knows how many masses for the +repose of my soul; for four months and three days she never heard a +thing of me, and I'd written her regularly every week. + +"Yes, and what are you going to do if the letter carrier gets killed, +or the Boche locate the mail waggon on the road every other delivery? +Nobody's going to inform you of the accident." + +"And that does happen often?" + +"Almost every day." + +"Quite a common occurrence; there's nothing for you to worry about yet, +really now." + +So "hope springs eternal" in the breasts of the bereaved parents, whose +smile gradually broadens out into a laugh when the artillery-man +recounts some grotesque tale, and gives his joyous nature free rein. + +The convalescents who came to this particular city must have +recuperated in the minimum of time, if _régime_ had anything to do with +the re-establishment. In every house the cloth was always on the +table, the door open in sign of welcome. + +"Come in and have a bite with us," people would call to them as they +passed by. + +Certain among them were being treated for severe cases and had been in +the city a long time. The townspeople were proud of their progress and +their cure, almost as proud as of their notary, who on leaving for the +front was only a second lieutenant, but now had command of a battalion +of _chasseurs_. Nor must one forget Monsieur de P.'s son, cited for +bravery among the aces, and least of all ignore Monsieur Dubois, who +having lost both sons, shut up his house, settled his business and +without telling any one went off and enlisted as a simple private at +sixty-two years of age. + +In coming to this distant little city I had sought to find repose for +my somewhat shattered nerves; dared hope for complete rest beneath this +hospitable, sympathetic roof. But the war was everywhere. Yes, far +from the sound of the guns one's eyes are spared the spectacles of +horror and desolation, but there is not a soul who for a single instant +really escapes the gigantic shiver that has crept over all the world. +Out here, far removed from the seat of events, life necessarily becomes +serious and mournful. The seemingly interminable hours lend themselves +most propitiously to reflections, foster distress and misgivings, and +one therefore feels all the more keenly the absence of the dear ones, +the emptiness due to the lack of news. + +There are but two moments when real excitement ripples the apparent +calm of the little city; one in the morning when the paper boy +announcing his approach by blowing his brass horn, runs from door to +door distributing the dailies, while people rush forth and wait their +turns impatiently. + +The evening _communiqué_ arrives at 8 P. M. An old white-haired +postman pastes it upon the bulletin board outside the post office. +Long before the hour one can hear steps echoing on the pavement, as +men, women and children, old people on crutches, cripples leaning on +their nurses' arms, hasten in the same direction, moved by the same +anxious curiosity. When the weather is inclement one turns up his +trousers, or removes her best skirt. It is no uncommon sight to see +women in woollen petticoats with a handkerchief knotted about their +heads standing there umbrella in hand, patiently awaiting the news. + +A line forms and each one passes in front of the little square piece of +paper, whose portent may be so exhilarating or tragic. Then some one +clears his throat, and to save time reads the bulletin for the benefit +of the assembled group. + +Here again the strategists are in evidence. + +Monsieur Paquet, the jeweller, having served his three years some three +decades ago at Rheims, has a wonderfully lucid way of explaining all +the operations that may be made in that region, while Monsieur Morin, +the grocer, whose wife comes from Amiens, yields the palm to no one +when that sector is mentioned. + +Each one of these gentlemen has a special view on the subject, each +favours a special mode of combat, and each, of course, has his +following among the townspeople. But the masses give them little heed. + +Monsieur Paquet's persistent optimism or Monsieur Morin's equally +systematic pessimism do not touch them in the least. The French soul +has long since known how to resist emotions. Sinister rumours shake it +no more than do insane hopes and desires. + +"All we know is that there's a war," exclaimed a sturdy housewife +summing up her impressions, "and we've got to have victory so it will +stop!" + +"Amen," laughs an impudent street gamin. + +Slowly the crowd disperses, and presently when the gathering is +considerably diminished a group steps forward, presses around the +bulletin board and comments on the _communiqué_ in an incomprehensible +tongue. + +By their round, open faces, their blond hair and that unspeakable air +of honesty and calm resolution, one instantly recognises the Belgians. +Yes, the Belgians, come here in 1914, the Belgians who have taken up +their abode, working anywhere and everywhere, with an incomparable +good-will and energy. But they have never taken root, patiently +waiting for the day when once again they may pull out their heavy drays +that brought them down here, whose axles they have never ceased to +grease, just as they have always kept their magnificent horses shod and +ready to harness, that at a moment's notice old women and children may +be hoisted into the straw and the whole caravan thread its way +northward towards the native village; that village of which they have +never ceased to talk, about which they tell the youngsters, who +scarcely remember it now. + +"Ah, Madame," exclaimed one poor old soul in a phrase that might have +seemed comic if it hadn't been so infinitely profound and touching. +"Ah, Madame, even if there isn't anything left, it will be our village +just the same!" + +Alas! I know but too well the fate of such villages at the front, +occupied by the enemy, crushed beneath his iron heel, or subjected to +his gun fire. + + + + +X + +It was Aunt Rose's custom to spend one week out of every four at her +country seat. With the war had come the shortage of labour, and now +that her head man had been mobilised it was necessary for some one to +take direct control, superintend and manage these valuable farm lands +which must do their share towards national support. + +It needed no urging to persuade us to accompany her. + +"My farmers haven't the time to make the trip to town individually, so +I get a list of their wants and my coming saves them so much trouble." + +So early one morning a big break was driven up to the door, and in less +than five minutes it was so full of bundles and packages that I had my +doubts as to our all fitting in, not to mention the word "comfortably." +And when finally we did jog away it took every effort of the broad +backed dray horse, who had been sent from the farm, to pull us up the +long sunny hills, so frequent in this region. + +The village which would be our ultimate destination was twelve miles +from any station, and the nearest railway a funny little two-foot-gauge +road, whose locomotives were comic to behold, their vociferous attempts +at whistling not even frightening the baby calves who stood and stared +at them indifferently as they passed. Furthermore, the line was no +longer in public service, save on market days at Le Donjon. + +Our route lay through an admirable, undulating country which seemed to +be totally deserted, for not even a stray dog crossed our path. Far in +the distance, however, from time to time one might hear the throb of a +motor. + +"They are winnowing almost everywhere today," explained Aunt Rose, +"taking advantage of the good weather. We shall doubtless find every +one very busy at Neuilly." + +The thrashing machine had been set up on the public square, and all +along the last mile before entering the village we met great loads of +wheat and oats, drawn by huge white oxen, who in turn were led by what +seemed to me to be very small boys. The latter, stick in hand, walked +in front of their beasts, and swelling their youthful voices would +intone a kind of litany which the animals apparently understood and +obeyed. + +The brilliant noonday sun shone down and bathed everything in gold. + +In the shadow of the little church the engine, attended by two +white-bearded men, churned along, from time to time sending forth a +shrill whistle. Women with bandana handkerchiefs tied down closely +about their heads, unloaded the carts, and lifting the heavy sheaves in +their brawny arms, would carry them to the machine, where others, +relieving them, would spread them out and guide them into the aperture. + +Two handsome girls that might have served as models for goddesses +stood, pitch-fork in hand, removing the chaff. The breeze blowing +through it would catch the wisps and send them dancing in the air, +while the great generous streams of golden grain flowing from the +machine seemed like rivers of moulten metal. + +The children and tiny babies lay tucked away in the straw, sound asleep +beneath a giant elm that shaded one corner of the square. Now and +again a woman would leave her companions and wiping the perspiration +from her brow, approach this humble cradle, lift her infant in her +arms, and seeking a secluded spot, give it suckle. + +I cannot tell how long I stood watching this wonderful rustic +spectacle, so rich in tone and colouring, so magnificent in its +simplicity, so harmonious in movement. There was no undue noise--every +motion seemed regulated, the work accomplished without haste but with +an impressive thoroughness. Here then was the very source of the +country's vitality. Elsewhere the war might crush and destroy lives, +cities and possessions, but this was the bubbling spring-head from +whence gushed forth, unrestrained, the generative forces; stronger than +war, stronger than death, life defiantly persistent. And I was seized +with an immense pride, an unlimited admiration for these noble, simple +women of France who had had the courage to set forth such a challenge! + +For it is the women who have done it, of that there can be no doubt. + +[Illustration: MAXENCE] + +The census indicates that in 1914 the total number of inhabitants +within this little village was seven hundred and fifty. Of these, one +hundred and forty men were mobilised, and forty-five have already been +killed. The masculine element, therefore, has been reduced to a +minimum. + +Thevenet, the carpenter, grocery man and choir leader, gifted with a +strong voice and a shock of curly black hair, but lame in both legs, is +certainly, when seated behind his counter, the noblest specimen of the +stronger sex that the village possesses. + +His pupil, disciple and companion, called Criquet, is, as his pseudonym +indicates, extremely small of stature, and though he regularly presents +himself before the draft boards, he has invariably been refused as far +too small to serve his country in the ranks. + +Of course, there are quite a number of sturdy old men, who have had +ample occasion to do their bit by helping their daughters or their +sons' wives on their farms. So in the village itself there remains +hardly any one. + +Old man Magnier is so bent with rheumatism that each movement is +accompanied by an alarming cracking of his bones, and one is tempted to +ask him not to stir for fear of suddenly seeing him drop to pieces, as +would an antiquated, over-dry grandfather clock, on being removed from +a long stay in the garret. + +Monsiau, the inn-keeper, is ready and willing to do almost anything but +he is so terribly stout that the slightest physical effort causes him +to turn purple and gasp for breath. He therefore remains seated, +nodding like a big Buddha, half dozing over the harangues of his friend +Chavignon, the tailor, whose first name, by the way, is Pacifique. But +in order to belie this little war-like appellation, Chavignon spends +most of the time he owes to the trade dreaming of impossible plans and +preparing ghastly tortures, to which the Kaiser shall be submitted when +once we have caught him. + +Bonnet, the hardware dealer, in spite of his seventy-eight years, comes +and goes at a lively pace--coughing, grumbling, mumbling--always in a +hurry, though he never has anything special to attend to. + +And finally there is Laigut; Laigut whom one consults when at his wits' +end, simply because he knows everything in general, and nothing in +particular, his knowledge covering all the arts and sciences as resumed +in the Grand Encyclopedia. He is a little man with spectacles, and a +short grey beard, costumed winter and summer alike in the same suit of +worn brown velvet, a rabbit skin cap on his head, his feet shoved into +wooden sabots. + +His reputation before the war was not what one would call spotless. +His passion for fowl (other people's on principle) had led to his being +strongly suspected. He was a poacher, as well, always ready to bring +you the hare or the pike you needed, at a fixed date and hour, more +especially when the shooting and fishing seasons were closed. + +His was one of those hidden geniuses which the war had revealed. +Otherwise we should never on earth have suspected him of being so +capable. But be it requested that he repair a sewing machine, a +bicycle or a watch; sharpen a pair of scissors, put in a pane of glass, +make over mattresses, shear a horse, a dog or a human, paint a sign, +cover an umbrella, kill a pig or treat a sprain, Laigut never +hesitates, Laigut is always found competent. Add to this his commerce +in seeds and herbs, his talent for destroying snakes and trapping +moles, the fact that he is municipal bell ringer and choir boy, and you +will have but a feeble idea of the activities of this man whose field +seems so unlimited. + +In a little old shed behind his house he carefully stores the +innumerable and diverse objects which are confided to his care, and +contrary to what one might suppose, he bears no malice for the lack of +esteem bestowed upon him in times gone by. Not at all. His breadth of +character is equalled only by the diversity of his gifts. From time to +time a fowl may still disappear, but none save _Maître Renard_ is now +accused. In these days there are so many foxes about! + +If I may seem to have gone deep into detail concerning these people it +is only because I am anxious to make better understood what life means +in a village without men. That is to say without valid men who care +for the cattle, steer the plough, keep the furrows of equal depth and +straight as a die; rake, hoe and sow; reap, harvest and carry the heavy +burdens, in fact, perform all the hard, fatiguing labour that the +upkeep of the soil requires. + +And yet, in spite of their absence, not a foot of ground has been +neglected. The cattle are robust and well cared for, the harvests +reaped and brought to cover, the taxes and the rents have been paid, +and down under the piles of linen in those big oak cupboards lie many +blue bank notes, or several bonds of the National Defense. And France +has crossed the threshold of her fifth year of war. + +To whom is this due? The women. + +There were no training schools to teach them how to sow or reap--no +kindly advisors to take the husbands' places and tell them what animals +to keep and feed, at what time to sell, or at what price. They had to +learn from hard experience, taxing their intuition and great common +sense to the utmost. + +And with it all they are so shy and modest; at heart a little bit +ashamed when you speak to them in terms of admiration for what they +have done. + +"We didn't really know what to do at the end of that first year when we +found there wasn't any one to take care of the ground," explained Julie +Laisné, who lives just behind Aunt Rose. + +"I would have tried to plough, been glad to do it, but I was afraid the +others would make fun of me," said Anna Troussière. + +"That's just the way I felt about it," exclaimed Julie. "I nearly went +crazy when I knew time was flying, winter coming, and no wheat in. +I've no doubt it was the same with all the others. Then one day the +news ran round like lightning that Anna was out ploughing her fields, +with her kid and her grandfather to help her. Nobody took the time to +go and see if it was true. Each one got out her plough. Of course, +the first furrows were not very straight, but soon we got used to it, +and Lord, how we laughed over my first attempts, when my husband came +home the next fall on furlough." + +I wish that some great master of the pen might paint in words as simple +as the Golden Legend, in stanzas as pure as the Litanies of the Holy +Virgin, the picture of this little Julie, up and about with the first +rays of dawn, always hard at work, and whom when night has closed in I +have often come upon, bending over beneath her tallow candle, writing +to the dear one at the front. To this task as to all the others she +concentrates her every effort and attention, anxious that no news be +forgotten,--news which is as fresh and naïve as the events and the +nature that inspires it. "The sow has had twelve little pigs, the +donkey has a nail in its hoof, little Michel has a cold, and butter now +sells for forty-three sous the pound." + +Her farm is too small and brings in too little for her to dream of +taking on some one to help. But she keeps three cows, and three +calves; a dozen or two pigs, a donkey and all the chickens she can +afford to feed. Forty acres is quite a responsibility for so small a +person, and it requires lots of courage to replace the missing muscle, +to till the soil, care for the kitchen garden and the animals, and send +three small children off to school on time, all of them washed and +combed, without a hole in their stockings or a spot on their aprons. +It needs something more than courage to be able to sing and dissimulate +one's anxieties, to hide in one corner of that envelope that will be +opened by him "Out there," a little favourite flower, tenderly cared +for, nursed to maturity. + +"Bah!" she laughs as I sympathise. "It might be bad if one were all +alone in his troubles. But we're all in the same boat, down here!" + +Yes, all of them have done their duty--more than their duty, the +impossible. In other villages it is just the same--in other Provinces. +From one end to the other of France such marvels have been accomplished +that the government decided that so much devotion merited recompense. + +So one fine morning a motor was seen to stop in front of the Café +Lacroix, a gentleman in uniform (some say it was the Préfet) +accompanied by two other men, got down and walked over to the town hall +that is near the church. + +A few moments later Criquet was dispatched on bicycle to Anna +Troussière's and Claudine Charpin's, with orders to bring them back +with him. + +He soon returned accompanied by the two frightened creatures, who +fearing ill news had not unrolled their sleeves nor removed the +handkerchief from their heads, but jumped on their bicycles and +hastened to the town hall. + +Then suddenly the gentleman in uniform appeared on the steps, made them +a little speech, and stepping down pinned a medal on their heaving +breasts. He thrust a diploma which bore their names into their +trembling fingers, shook hands with them most cordially, and mounting +in his car, drove away in a cloud of dust. + +Every one, much excited, gathered around the two women. The medals +were handed about, commented upon. + +"Beautiful," exclaimed Criquet who is something of a wag. "I think +they're made of bronze. Too bad they're not chocolate so you might +give us all some." + +"Claudine," said Anna Troussière, "it's time we went home if we don't +want to be teased to death. Goodness, if only we'd known, we might +have brushed up a bit!" + +But the incident did not end there. The government, anxious to show +its gratitude, offered to send them help, in the shape of war +prisoners. The proposition was tempting. A bourgeois who had several +big farms said he would accept four. This almost caused a revolution. +The four Germans were quartered in a shed and an old territorial +mounted guard over them. + +"They were good fellows," Julie explained when she told me the story. +"Hard workers too. Very kind to the animals and understanding +everything about a farm. I don't know--I used to have a funny feeling +when I saw them. But, poor souls, I don't suppose they wanted the war, +they'd probably have much rather been home and yet they were as +obliging as could be. Always ready to lend a hand when there was a +hard job to be tackled. + +"They made rather a good impression, and two or three of our women +farmers had almost decided to send for some. Well, this lasted until +the next Sunday. As they were all catholics, of course they came to +church, and were seated on the first bench, with their sentinel at the +end. Everything went finely until the Curate got up to preach, first +reading the announcements for the week. When he asked that prayers be +said for Jules Lefoulon and Paul Dupont, both from our parish and both +killed on the Field of Honour, and we looked up we could see the four +Boche sitting calmly in front of us--I can't tell you what it meant! +Every one was weeping. Of course, we didn't let them feel it. They +saluted every one most politely, you could almost see that they weren't +bad men--but every one said, 'No, none of their help needed. We've got +on without them up till now. I fancy we can see it through.'" + +Even Madame Fusil, the baker, who was in most urgent need of +assistance, resolved to be equal to her task alone. It is her little +daughter who delivers the bread to all the numerous patrons, quite a +complicated undertaking for so young a child, who must drive her poor +old nag and his load down many a bumpy side path. One can hear her +little voice all over the country side. "Here Jupiter--get up, I say." + +I met her one morning in the Chemin du Moulin, whip in hand, pulling +old Jupiter by the bridle. But Jupiter had decided to take a rest. +Nothing could make him budge, nothing, neither cries nor complaints, +sweetmeats nor menaces. Jupiter was as determined as he was obstinate. + +The unfortunate child was red with indignation, almost on the verge of +tears. + +"_Oui, oui,_" she fairly sobbed, "he just ought to be sent to the +front. That would teach him a lesson. He does it on purpose, I do +believe. He knows well enough I'll be late to school! It's already +half past seven. I've got three more deliveries to make, and must take +him home and unharness him!" + +"What time did you start out, child?" + +"Why, four o'clock as usual, Madame. But I'm sure to be late this +morning." + +I promised that as I was passing by the school I would step in and tell +Madame Dumont, the head mistress, the reason of her tardiness. She +felt much better after that, and presently our combined efforts got +Jupiter to move. + +True to my word I sought out Madame Dumont, and found the good woman +already extremely busy at this early hour. + +A peasant mother and her three children all arrayed in their Sunday +best, were grouped together at one end of the garden, smiling blandly +into the lens of a camera which the school mistress set up and prepared +to operate. + +"There--that's it--smile! Click! It's all over. Now then, Magloire, +climb up on a chair. Hold yourself quite straight, dear, so your papa +will see how much you've grown." + +Magloire was photographed with her nose in the air, her mouth wide +open, her other features registering the most complete lunacy. Joseph, +her brother, at whom they fairly shrieked in order to make him smile, +produced the most singular contortion of the mouth that I have ever +seen, which denoted an extreme gift for mimicry, rare in so young a +child. + +Little Marie was taken on her mother's lap, and I thought of the +ecstasy of the brave fellow to whom one day the postman would bring the +envelope containing the glorious proofs. With what pride he will show +them to his companions, how he will gloat over his Magloire and his +Joseph, his petite Marie and his _bonne femme_. Then, drawing away +from the others, he will study them again, each one in turn. Nights +when on duty, those cold nights of vigil, way out there in Saloniki, +when fatigue and homesickness will assail him, he will slip his hand +down into his pocket, and his rough fingers will touch the grease +stained envelope that contains the cherished faces of his dear ones. + +It all recalled other powder-blackened hands clenched forever about +soiled remnants of envelopes, from which protruded the edge of a +precious photograph. A shiver ran down my spine as the brave mother +and her three little ones passed by me on their way to change their +clothes--assume their humble dress. + +"_Merci, Madame Dumont. Merci bien._" + +"At your service, Madame Lecourt." And Madame Dumont turned to examine +her mail. Rather voluminous in size, but with the Mayor, his +substitute, and her husband at the front, she had become town clerk, +and the quantity of paper and printed matter a village like this daily +receives, is quite unbelievable. Quickly the little school mistress +ran through the envelopes, finally breathing a deep sigh of relief. + +"Ah, nothing this mail, thank Heaven!" + +"Why, what were you expecting?" + +"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything, but I live in terror of finding that +fatal official bulletin announcing the death of some man in our +community. Each time I leave the house, the eyes of every living soul +are fairly glued to me. The women here love me, I know, and yet I feel +that I frighten them. + +"If on going out I start up the road, those who live below here breathe +again, relieved. You cannot imagine the tricks I must resort to in +order not to arouse false suspicions. Then, as soon as I open their +door they know the reason of my coming, and what poor miserable +creatures I often take in my arms and try vainly to console. + +"Ah, Madame, the wives you can cope with, say things to, put their +babies in their arms. But the mothers, Madame, the mothers!" + +"And no one complains, Madame Dumont?" + +"No one, Madame, they all know that we've got to win this war." + +All along the road home I walked slowly, lost in reverie. But I had no +time for musing after my arrival, for Aunt Rose met me at the doorstep, +a small boy by her side. + +"Listen, my dear," she cooed, "I've a great favour to ask you. Would +you mind walking around to the farms and telling them that Maxence will +be here to-morrow morning? His little boy has just come over to tell +me." + +The coming of Maxence produced an indescribable enthusiasm wherever I +announced the news. Maxence is the only blacksmith in Neuilly. Of +course he's serving in the artillery, but during his quarterly ten-day +_permissions_, he tries to cover all the work that is absolutely +indispensable to the welfare of the community. He arrived much +sun-burned and tanned, accompanied by two other chaps who were not +expected, having travelled two days and two nights without stopping. + +They seated themselves before a succulent repast prepared by Madame +Maxence, and in the meantime the crowd began gathering in the shop. + +"Get in line! Get in line!" he called to them joyfully. "Give me time +to swallow my coffee and I'll be with you." + +Abandoning his uniform, he put on his old clothes, his sabots and his +leather apron, and for ten long days the hammer beat incessantly upon +the anvil. + +Sometimes between strokes he would look up and smile, calling out: + +"Why, they won't even give me time to catch a mess of fish, or go to +see my grandmother at Paray!" + +There is always some tool to be repaired, a last horse to be shod. + +"What do you know about this for a furlough! And every time it's the +same old story." + +The others, all those whom I have seen return from the front, do +exactly as did Maxence. + +Pushing open the gate, they embrace their pale and trembling wives, +cuddle the children in their arms, and then five minutes later one can +see Jean or Pierre, clothed in his working suit, seized and subjected +by the laws of his tradition. + +Sunday though, the whole family must go to Mass. The careful housewife +has brushed and cleaned the faded uniform, burnished the helmet, put +new laces in the great thick-soled shoes. The children cling to their +father, proud of his warlike appearance. Then afterwards, of course, +there are many hands to be shaken, but no extraordinary effusions are +manifested. + +"Ah, home at last, old man!" + +"You're looking splendid. When did you get here?" + +"Did you come across Lucien, and Bataille's son?" + +They hardly mention the war. They talk of the weather, the crops, the +price of cattle, but never of battle. I have even found a certain +extraordinary dislike for discussion of the subject. Or when they can +be persuaded to speak, they laugh and tell of some weird feat. + +"There are those who make the shells, those who shoot them, and those +who catch them. We're doing the catching just at present. There +doesn't seem to be much choice!" + +They return, just as they came, without noise, without tears. + +"Gigot's son's gone back this morning." + +"Is that so? How quickly time flies!" + +They take the road with a steady step, loaded down beneath their +bundles. But they never turn their heads for a last good-bye. + +"Aren't you going to mend my pick-axe, Maxence?" queried an old +neighbour. + +"Sorry, mother, but I've got to leave." + +"Well, then, it'll be for next time." + +"If next time there is!" + +There is that terrible conditional "If" in all such village +conversations, just the same as in every conversation all over France. + + +Two years ago still another "If" hung on every lip. The hope that it +entertained seemed so vastly distant that no one dared give it open +utterance. But each in his secret soul nurtured and cherished the +idea, until at length those whispered longings swelled to a mighty +national desire, + +"If only the Americans . . ." + +They have not hoped in vain. The Americans have come. + + + + +FINIS + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's With Those Who Wait, by Frances Wilson Huard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + +***** This file should be named 20111-8.txt or 20111-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/1/20111/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: With Those Who Wait + +Author: Frances Wilson Huard + +Release Date: December 15, 2006 [EBook #20111] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="WITH THOSE WHO WAIT" BORDER="2" WIDTH="370" HEIGHT="563"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 370px"> +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +FRANCES WILSON HUARD +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF "MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR," <BR> +"MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF MERCY," ETC. +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WITH DRAWINGS BY CHARLES HUARD +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD & STEWART +<BR> +PUBLISHERS ———— TORONTO +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Copyright, 1918, +<BR> +By George H. Doran Company +<BR><BR> +Printed in the United States of America +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MES AMIES FRANÇAISES, +<BR> +HÉROINES TOUTES +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H3> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%" summary="Contents"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">CHAPTER I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap07">CHAPTER VII </A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap09">CHAPTER IX </A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">CHAPTER II </A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">CHAPTER V </A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII </A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap10">CHAPTER X </A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">CHAPTER III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-022"> +VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-054"> +MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-078"> +A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-102"> +DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME—PARIS +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-118"> +VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-144"> +THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-160"> +A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-188"> +MONSIEUR AMÉDÉ +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-214"> +FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUÉ IN A LITTLE FRENCH CITY +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-230"> +MAXENCE +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<P> +Once upon a time there wasn't any war. In those days it was my custom +to drive over to Château-Thierry every Friday afternoon. The horses, +needing no guidance, would always pull up at the same spot in front of +the station from which point of vantage, between a lilac bush and the +switch house, I would watch for the approaching express that was to +bring down our week-end guests. +</P> + +<P> +A halt at the bridge head would permit our friends to obtain a +bird's-eye view of the city, while I purchased a measure of +fresh-caught, shiny-scaled river fish, only to be had of the old +boatman after the arrival of the Paris train. Invariably there were +packages to be called for at Berjot's grocery store, or Dudrumet's dry +goods counter, and then H. having discovered the exact corner from +which Corot painted his delightful panorama of the city, a pilgrimage +to the spot almost always ensued. +</P> + +<P> +A glance in passing at Jean de la Fontaine's house, a final stop at +"The Elephant" on the quay to get the evening papers, and then passing +through Essommes with its delightful old church, Bonneil and Romery, +our joyful party would reach Villiers just in time for dinner. +</P> + +<P> +A certain mystery shrouded the locality where our home was situated. +Normandy, Brittany, the Châteaux of Touraine, the climate of the +Riviera, have, at various seasons been more attractive, not only to +foreigners, but to the Parisians themselves, so aside from the art +lovers who made special trips to Rheims, there was comparatively little +pleasure travelling in our immediate neighbourhood, and yet what +particular portion of France is more historically renowned? Is it not +on those same fertile fields so newly consecrated with our blood that +every struggle for world supremacy has been fought? +</P> + +<P> +It would be difficult to explain just why this neglect of the lovely +East; neglect which afforded us the privilege of guiding our friends, +not only along celebrated highways, but through leafy by-paths that +breathed the very poetry of the XVIIth. century, and stretched, +practically untrodden, through Lucy-le-Bocage, Montreuil-aux-Lions, +down to the Marne and La Ferté-sous-Jouarre. +</P> + +<P> +It was wonderful rolling country that rippled back from the river; +abounding not only in vegetation, but in silvery green harmonies so +beloved of the Barbizon master, and sympathetic even by the names of +the tiny hamlets which dotted its vine-covered hills. +</P> + +<P> +Our nearest dealer in agricultural machines lived in a place called +Gaudelu. We called him "MacCormick" because of his absolute and +loquacious partiality for those American machines, and to reach his +establishment we used to pass through delightful places called le Grand +Cormont, Neuilly-la-Poterie, Villers-le-Vaste. +</P> + +<P> +As I write these lines (July, 1918) the station at Château-Thierry is +all of that city that remains in our hands. The bridge head has become +the most disputed spot on the map of Europe; "The Elephant" a heap of +waste in No Man's Land, while doubtless from the very place where Corot +painted his masterpiece, a German machine gun dominating the city is +belching forth its ghastly rain of steel. +</P> + +<P> +That very country whose obscurity was our pride is an open hook for +thousands of eager allies and enemies, while on the lips of every wife +and mother, from Maine to California, Belleau Woods have become words +full of fearful portent. I often wonder then, if the brave Americans +who are actually disputing inch by inch my home and its surroundings +have ever had time to think that a little village known as "Ecoute s'il +pleut," might find its English equivalent in "Hark-how-it-rains!" +</P> + +<P> +Two touching accounts of the second descent upon our country have come +to my hands. A little orphan peasant lad, under army age, who fled +with our caravan four years since, now pointer in the French +artillery—writes as follows from "Somewhere in France"—June 6, 1918: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DEAR MADAME: +</P> + +<P> +Just a line to tell you I am alive and well; unfortunately I cannot say +as much for my grandparents, for you doubtless know what has again +befallen our country. All the inhabitants have been evacuated. +</P> + +<P> +I am absolutely without news of my grandparents. I learned to-day +through a word from my brother Alfred that they had been obliged to +leave home and had fled in an unknown direction. In spite of the +rumour of a new invasion they did not intend to leave Villiers. +</P> + +<P> +My sister left the first, with some of the young girls of the village. +After twenty-four hours in Paris they were evacuated to a village in +the Yonne. +</P> + +<P> +My brother was obliged to go the next day, and at the present time is +at Rozoy-en-Brie. I believe we made a halt there in 1914 when we fled +as refugees. After three days at Rozoy, Alfred could stand it no +longer, and with three companions they started home on bicycles, in +order to see what had happened. They reached Villiers to find every +house empty, and were almost instantly expulsed by shells. So now we +are all scattered to the four winds of heaven. I am so sad when I +think of my poor grand-parents, obliged to leave home and to roll along +the high-roads at their age. What misery! +</P> + +<P> +I am afraid our village is going to suffer much more than it did in +1914. That horde of scoundrels will spare nothing! And when will it +all be over? +</P> + +<P> +I hope that my letter will find you well and happy, and I beg you to +believe me gratefully and respectfully yours, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +LÉON CHATELAIN<BR> +<I>Maréchal des Logis</I><BR> +206e Artillerie—28e Batterie<BR> +Secteur 122. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"With the Mayor, and thanks to a neighbour's car, I was able to get +away," writes Monsieur Aman Jean, the well-known painter, who had a +home in Château-Thierry. "The situation was becoming unbearable and we +three were the last to leave our unfortunate city. Behind us an army +engineer blew up the post and telegraph office, the military buildings, +the station, the store house, and finally the bridge. Our eyes were +beginning to smart terribly, which announced the presence of mustard +gas, and told us we had left none too soon. +</P> + +<P> +"I will never forget the sight and the commotion of the road leading +from Château-Thierry to Montmirail. Interminable lines of army +transports on one side counterbalanced by the same number of fleeing +civilians going in the opposite direction. Now and then a farm cart +would pull aside to let a heavy military truck get by, and one can +hardly imagine the state of a highway that is encumbered by a double +current of refugees and soldiers hastening towards the front. The +painful note was made by the unfortunate civilians who had put on their +Sunday clothes, the only way they had of saving them. As to the +picturesque, it was added by the multitude of little donkeys trotting +beneath the weight of the machine guns, and by the equipment of the +Italian troops. There were bright splashes of colour here and there, +together with a heroic and lamentable animation. It impressed me most +violently. It was wonderfully beautiful and pathetically horrible. +</P> + +<P> +"On one side old people, women and children formed a long straggling +cortège; while on the other—brilliant youth constituted a homogeneous +and solid mass, marching to battle with calm resolution. +</P> + +<P> +"The populations of the East are astonishingly courageous and resigned. +That of Château-Thierry watched the evacuation of the Government +Offices, the banks, the prefecture and the post office without the +slightest alarm. The retreat was well advanced ere they dreamed of it. +When finally the people realised that the enemy was at their very +gates, they moved out swiftly without any commotion." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The German onslaught at the Marne in 1914 had been terrible but brief. +The life of our entire region was practically suspended while the Hun +wreaked his vengeance, not only on our armies, but our innocent +civilians and their possessions. Shot and shell, organised looting and +cruelty, were employed to cow the intrepid spirit of the French, but +without success. When, finally their retreat came, hands were quick to +repair material damage, refugees swiftly returned, and even the +September rains joined in the effort to purify the fields which had +been so ruthlessly polluted. +</P> + +<P> +With the Hun on the Aisne, and a victory to our credit, there wasn't +even a pause for breath. A new life seemed to surge forth, and all +bent their energies towards effacing every trace of what had seemed +like a hideous nightmare. Even the Eastern Railway, which had been +closed on account of the destruction of some seven or eight bridges +over the Marne, broke all records by repairing or replacing them in +eleven days' time. And while this had no direct bearing upon our +situation, the moral effect of even <I>hearing</I> the train-loads of men +and munitions passing through our region, was certainly surprising. +</P> + +<P> +Little by little things began to assume their normal aspect. Not that +they ever entirely regained it, for there was always the dull rumbling +of the cannon to remind us of bygone terrors, while the establishment +of several emergency hospitals in the vicinity lent an animation to the +highroads, formerly dotted with private cars, but now given over +entirely to ambulances and supply trucks. +</P> + +<P> +As to the uniforms, they quickly became such accustomed sights that a +youthful civilian would have been the novelty. +</P> + +<P> +Buoyed up by the success of our armies, every one expected an early +peace, and even the busiest of us began making projects for the fair +future. In the odd moments of relief from my somewhat onerous hospital +duties, my only pleasure and distraction was to build castles in the +air, and in the eternal Winter lights I laid many a plan for a little +boudoir next my bedroom, which I had long desired to see realised. +</P> + +<P> +When news of H.'s safety reached me, my imagination knew no limits. +</P> + +<P> +The convalescent patients from all branches of trade, who at different +times had filled the rooms of the château, converted into wards, had +been very deft at repairing everything in the way of furniture that the +Germans had defaced or neglected to appropriate. There were many +skilful carpenters and cabinet makers among them, and I saw visions of +employing them at their own trade, producing both occupation, which +they craved, and funds which they needed, but were too proud to accept +as gifts, and what a surprise that room would be for H.! +</P> + +<P> +I even pushed my collector's mania so far as to pay a visit to an old +bourgeois who lived in a little city called La Ferté-Milon, quite a bit +north of us. The walls of his salon were ornamented with some charming +eighteenth century paper representing the ports of France, and in +excellent condition. I had long coveted it for my boudoir, and in days +before the war had often dickered with him as to price. I now feared +lest it should have been destroyed or disfigured, and regretted having +wished to drive too keen a bargain, but on finding it intact, I am +ashamed to say the collector's instinct got the better of the woman, +and I used every conceivable argument to persuade him to come to my +price. The old fellow was as obdurate as ever. +</P> + +<P> +"But," I suggested, "don't you realise what a risk you are taking? +Suppose the Germans were to get back here again before you sell it? +You're much nearer the front than we! You will not only lose your +money, but the world will be minus one more good thing, and we've lost +too many of those already." +</P> + +<P> +The withering glance with which this remark was received was as good as +any discourse on patriotism. +</P> + +<P> +"The Germans back here? Never! Why at the rate we're going now it +will be all over before Spring and you'll see what a price my paper +will fetch just as soon as peace comes!" +</P> + +<P> +Peace! Peace! the word was on every lip, the thought in every heart, +and yet every intelligence, every energy was bent on the prosecution of +the most hateful warfare ever known. In all the universe it seemed to +me that the wild animals were the only creatures really exempt from +preoccupation about the fray. It might be war for man and the friends +of man, but for them had come an unexpected reprieve, and even the more +wary soon felt their exemption from pursuit. Man was so busy fighting +his own kind that a wonderful armistice had unconsciously arisen +between him and these creatures, and so birds and beasts, no longer +frightened by his proximity, were indulging in a perfect revel of +freedom. +</P> + +<P> +During the first weeks of the conflict, the "cotton-tails," always so +numerous on our estate, were simply terrified by the booming of the +guns. If even the distant bombardment assumed any importance, they +would disappear below ground completely, for days at a time. My old +foxhound was quite disconcerted. But like all the rest of us they soon +became accustomed to it, and presently displayed a self assurance and a +familiarity undreamed of, save perhaps in the Garden of Eden. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-022"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-022.jpg" ALT="VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY" BORDER="2" WIDTH="369" HEIGHT="565"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 369px"> +VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It became a common sight to see a brood of partridges or pheasants +strutting along the roadside like any barnyard hen and chickens, and +one recalled with amazement the times when stretching themselves on +their claws they would timidly and fearfully crane their necks above +the grass at the sound of an approaching step. +</P> + +<P> +At present they are not at all sure that man was their worst enemy. +The Government having decreed that there shall be no game shooting in +the army zone, weazels, pole cats and even fox have become very +numerous, and covey of quail that once numbered ten and fifteen, have +singularly diminished by this incursion of wild animals, not to mention +the hawks, the buzzards and the squirrels. +</P> + +<P> +One Autumn morning I appeared at our gateway just in time to see a +neighbour's wife homeward bound, the corpses of four white hens that +<I>Maître Renard</I> had borrowed from their coop, dangling from her arm. +Her husband heard her coming, and on learning the motive of her wails, +the imprecations brought down on the head of that fox were +picturesquely profane to say the least. Presently the scene grew in +violence, and then finally terminated with the assertion that the whole +tragedy was the result of the Kaiser's having thrown open the German +prisons and turned loose his vampires on France. +</P> + +<P> +Be that as it may, there was certainly no more enchanting way of +obtaining mental and physical relaxation than in wandering through +those wonderful woodlands that abound in our vicinity, and which +breathed so many inspirations to the Master of Fable, who at one time +was their keeper. How I wish that good La Fontaine might have seen his +dumb friends under present circumstances. What fantasies would he not +have woven about them. +</P> + +<P> +Season and the temperature were of little importance. There was never +a promenade without an incident—never an incident, no matter how +insignificant, that did not remind me of the peculiar phase under which +every living creature was existing. +</P> + +<P> +Once in the very early Spring, taking my faithful Boston bull, we stole +away for a constitutional. Suddenly my little companion darted up +close to the hedgerow, and on hurrying to the scene to find out the +cause of this departure from her usual dignified demeanour, I found her +standing face to face with a hare! Both animals, while startled, were +rooted to the spot, gazing at each other in sheer fascination of their +own fearlessness. It was so amazingly odd that I laughed aloud. But +even this did not break the spell. It lasted so long that presently +even I became a little puzzled. Finally it was the hare who settled +the question by calmly moving away, without the slightest sign of +haste, leaving my bull dog in the most comical state of concern that I +have ever seen. +</P> + +<P> +It was about this time that <I>Fil-de-Ver</I>, our donkey, decided to +abandon civilised life in favour of a more roaming career in the woods, +which he doubtless felt was his only true vocation. He had fared ill +at the hands of the Germans, and during the entire Winter our own boys +had used him regularly to haul dead wood. This kind of <I>kultur</I> he +resented distinctly, and resolved to show his disgust by becoming more +independent. +</P> + +<P> +First he tried it out for a day or two at a time. Then he was gone a +week, and finally he disappeared altogether. +</P> + +<P> +Being of sociable disposition he joined a little herd of deer which was +the pride and joy of our woods, and one afternoon I came upon this +motley company down by a little lick we had arranged on the brink of a +tiny river that crosses our estate. +</P> + +<P> +As I approached they all lifted their heads. A baby fawn, frightened, +scurried into the underbrush. But the others let me come quite close, +and then gently, as though to display their nimbleness and grace, +bounded away mid the tender green foliage, gold splashed here and there +by the fast sinking sun. <I>Fil-de-Fer</I> stood a moment undecided. +Presently, lifting his hind legs high into the air he gave vent to a +series of kickings and contortions which might have been taken for a +comical imitation, while a second later as though realising how +ridiculous he had been, he fell to braying with despair, and breaking +into a gallop fled in the direction of his new found friends. +</P> + +<P> +Simultaneous with <I>Fil-de-Fer's</I> disappearance came the rumour that the +<I>Loup-garou</I> was abroad and was sowing panic in its wake. Just what +kind of animal the <I>Loup-garou</I> might be, was somewhat difficult to +ascertain. No one in our vicinity had ever seen him, and from all I +could gather he seemed to be a strange sort of apocalyptic beast, +gifted with horns, extraordinary force, and the especial enemy of +mankind. +</P> + +<P> +There was something almost uncanny in the way the peasants would look +at one and lower their voices when speaking of this weird phenomenon, +and presently from having suspected my innocent donkey, I began to +wonder if I were not in the presence of some local popular superstition. +</P> + +<P> +The rumour was still persistent, when one evening at dark there was an +urgent call from Headquarters asking that we send down for four or five +patients that were destined for our hospital. I do not now recall for +just what reason I went alone, save for a twelve-year-old village lad, +but what I do remember was the respectful moral lecture that I received +from an old peasant woman who met our cart on the high-road just before +we turned off into the Bois du Loup. +</P> + +<P> +Night, black and starless, was upon us before we had penetrated half a +mile into the woods. My youthful companion began to sing martial airs, +and stimulated his courage by beating time with his feet on the bottom +of the cart. A chill Autumn rain commenced to fall, tinkling against +the rare leaves that now remained on the trees, blinding both horse and +driver, and greatly impeding our progress. Presently I noticed that +our lantern had gone out, and fearing lest we be borne down upon by +some swift moving army truck, I produced a pocket lamp and descended +from my seat. +</P> + +<P> +A handful of damp matches, much time and good humour were consumed ere +I succeeded in getting a light, and just as I swung the lantern back +into place, the air was pierced by a high-pitched, blood-curdling +shriek! +</P> + +<P> +<I>Le Loup</I> … ! +</P> + +<P> +At the same moment there was a sharp crackling on the opposite side of +the road, and an instant later a wild boar, followed by her young, +brushed past me and darted into the obscurity. +</P> + +<P> +My companion was livid. His teeth chattered audibly. He tried to pull +himself together and murmured incoherent syllables. Personally, I was +a bit unnerved, yet somewhat reassured. If my eyes had not deceived +me, the mystery of the <I>Loup-garou</I> was now solved. And yet I felt +quite sure that wild boar were unknown in our region. +</P> + +<P> +At Château-Thierry I made enquiries and from soldiers and foresters +learned that heretofore inhabitants of the Ardennes forest, these +animals had been driven South when man had chosen to make the firing +line of their haunts; and that, prolific breeders, they were now +practically a menace to the unarmed civilian. From these same lovers +of nature I gathered that for the first time in their recollection +sea-gulls and curlews had likewise been seen on the banks of the Marne. +</P> + +<P> +While the country now abounds in newcomers, many of the old familiar +birds and animals are rapidly disappearing. +</P> + +<P> +Larks are rare visitors these days, and the thrush which used to hover +over our vineyards in real flocks, have almost entirely vanished. The +swallows, however, are our faithful friends and have never failed to +return to us. +</P> + +<P> +Each succeeding Spring their old haunts are in a more or less +dilapidated condition according to the number of successful visits the +German aviators have chosen to pay us during the Winter, and I fancy +that this upsets them a trifle. For hundreds of generations they have +been accustomed to nest in the pinions of certain roofs, to locate in a +determined chimney, and it is a most amusing sight to see them cluster +about a ruined spot and discuss the matter in strident chirpings. +</P> + +<P> +Last season, after a family consultation, which lasted well nigh all +the morning, and during which they made repeated visits of inspection +to a certain favourite drain pipe, I suddenly saw them all lift wing +and sail away towards the North. My heart sank. Something near and +dear seemed to be slipping from me, and one has said <I>au revoir</I> so oft +in vain. So they too were going to abandon me! +</P> + +<P> +In one accustomed to daily coping with big human problems, such emotion +may seem trivial, but it was perhaps this constant forced endurance +that kept one up, made one almost supersensitively sentimental. Little +things grew to count tremendously. +</P> + +<P> +At lunch time I sauntered forth quite sad at heart, when an unexpected +familiar twittering greeted my ear, and I turned northward to see my +little friends circling about the stables. Life closer to the front +had evidently not offered any particular advantages, and in a few days' +time their constant comings and goings from certain specific points +told me that they had come back to stay. +</P> + +<P> +But if friend swallow may be praised for his fidelity, unfortunately +not so much can be said for another familiar passerby—the wild duck. +October had always seen them flocking southward, and some one of our +household had invariably heard their familiar call, as at daybreak they +would pass over the château on their way from the swamps of the Somme +to the Marais de St. Gond. The moment was almost a solemn one. It +seemed to mark an epoch in the tide of our year. Claude, Benôit, +George and a decrepit gardener would abandon all work and prepare +boats, guns and covers on the Marne. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the wonderful still hours just before dawn! Ah, that +indescribable, intense, yet harmonious silence that preceded the +arrival of our prey! +</P> + +<P> +Alas, all is but memory now. Claude has fallen before Verdun, Benôit +was killed on the Oise, and George has long since been reported missing. +</P> + +<P> +Alone, unarmed, the old gardener and I again awaited the cry of our +feathered friends, but our waiting, like that of so many others, was in +vain. The wild ducks are a thing of the past. Where have they gone? +No one knows, no one has ever seen them. And in the tense hush of the +Autumn nights, above the distant rumble of the cannon rose only the +plaintive cry of stray dogs baying at the moon. +</P> + +<P> +Dogs, <I>mon Dieu</I>, I wonder how many of those poor, forgotten, abandoned +creatures having strayed into our barnyard were successively washed, +combed, fed, cared for and adopted. +</P> + +<P> +Some of them, haunted by the spirit of unrest, remained with us but a +moment; others tried us for a day, a week, and still others, +appreciative of our pains, refused to leave at all. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the heart rending, lonesome, appealing look in the eyes of a poor +brute that has lost home and master! +</P> + +<P> +It is thus that I came into possession of an ill tempered French poodle +called <I>Crapouillot</I>, which the patients in our hospital insisted on +clipping like a lion with an anklet, a curl over his nose and a puff at +the end of his tail. A most detestable, unfortunate beast, always to +be found where not needed, a ribbon in his hair, and despicably bad +humoured. +</P> + +<P> +He was succeeded by a Belgian sheep dog, baptised <I>Namur</I>, who in time +gave place to one of the most hopelessly ugly mongrels I have ever +seen. But the new comer was so full of life and good will, had such a +comical way of smiling and showing his gleaming white teeth, that in +memory of the joy caused by the Charlie Chaplin films, he was +unanimously dubbed <I>Charlot</I>. +</P> + +<P> +The mere sound of his name would plunge him into ecstasies of joy, +accompanied by the wildest yapping and strange capers, which invariably +terminated by a double somersault in the mud so anxious was he to +convince us of his gratitude. Imagine then what might be obtained by a +caress, or a bowl of hot soup. +</P> + +<P> +Last in line, but by no means least, was a splendid English pointer, a +superb, finely bred animal, who day in, day out would lie by the open +fire, lost in a profound revery that terminated in a kind of sob. +Poor, melancholy <I>Mireille</I>, what master was she mourning? For what +home did she thus pine? How I respected and appreciated her sadness. +How intensely human she became. +</P> + +<P> +Finally when I could resist no longer I would take her long delicate +head into my hands and gently stroke it, seeking to impart my sympathy. +"I know that you never can be mine," I would murmur, "that you will +ever and eternally belong to him to whom you gave yourself once and +entirely. But these are sad anxious days for us all; we must bear +together. And so as my own dogs have often been my only consolation in +like times of misery and despair, oh, how I would love to comfort +you—beautiful, faithful, disconsolate Mireille!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + + +<P> +Cities, like people, seem to have souls, deep hidden and rarely ever +entirely revealed. How well must one come to know them, stone by +stone, highways, homes and habitants, ere they will disclose their +secret. I have rejoiced too often in the splendid serenity of St. Jean +des Vignes, felt too deeply the charm of those ancient streets, hoped +and suffered too intensely within its confines that Soissons should not +mean more to me than to the average zealous newspaper correspondent, +come there but to make note of its wounds, to describe its ruins. +</P> + +<P> +Fair Soissons, what is now your fate? In what state shall we find you? +What ultimate destiny is reserved for your cathedral, your stately +mansions, your magnificent gardens? What has become of those fifteen +or sixteen hundred brave souls who loved you so well that they refused +to leave you? <I>Qui sait</I>? +</P> + +<P> +One arrived at Soissons in war time by long avenues, shaded on either +side by a double row of stately elms, whose centenary branches +stretching upward formed an archway overhead. Then came the last +outpost of Army Police, a sentinel stopped you, minutely examined your +passports, verified their visés, and finally, all formalities +terminated, one entered what might have been the City of Death. +</P> + +<P> +Moss and weeds had sprung up between the cobble stone pavings; as far +as eye could see not a human soul was astir, not a familiar noise was +to be heard, not a breath of smoke stole heavenwards from those +hundreds of idle chimneys: and yet life, tenacious ardent life was +wonderfully evident here and there. A curtain lifted as one passed, a +cat on the wall, a low distant whistle, clothes drying at a window, a +flowering plant on a balcony, sometimes a door ajar, through which one +guessed a store in whose dimly lighted depths shadows seemed to be +moving about; all these bore witness to an eager, undaunted existence, +hidden for the time being perhaps, but intense and victorious, ready to +spring forward and struggle anew in admirable battles of energy and +conscience. +</P> + +<P> +The Hotel du Soleil d'Or offered a most hospitable welcome. It was the +only one open or rather, if one would be exact, the only one still +extant. To be sure there were no panes in the windows, and ungainly +holes were visible in almost all the ceilings, but the curtains were +spotlessly white and the bed linen smelled sweet from having been dried +in the open air. +</P> + +<P> +A most appreciable surprise was the excellent <I>cuisine</I>, and as +ornament to the dining-room table, between a pair of tall preserve +dishes, and on either side of the central bouquet, stood an unexploded +German shell. One of them had fallen on to the proprietor's bed, the +second landing in the pantry, while twenty or thirty others had worked +more efficiently, as could be attested by the ruins of the carriage +house, stables, and what had once been a glass covered Winter garden. +</P> + +<P> +On a door leading out of the office, and curiously enough left intact, +one might read, <I>Salon de conversation</I>. If you were to attempt to +cross the threshold, however, your eye would be instantly greeted by a +most abominable heap of plaster and wreckage, and the jovial proprietor +seeing your embarrassment, would explain: +</P> + +<P> +"My wife and the servants are all for cleaning up, but to my mind it's +better to leave things just as they are. Besides if we put all to +rights now, when our patrons return they will never credit half we tell +them. Seeing is believing! At any rate, it's an out of the way place, +and isn't bothering people for the time being." +</P> + +<P> +And truly enough this mania for repairing and reconstructing, this +instinct of the active ant that immediately commences to rebuild its +hill, obliterated by some careless foot, has become as characteristic +of the French. +</P> + +<P> +The Sisters of St. Thomas de Villeneuve, who were in charge of an +immense hospital, had two old masons who might be seen at all times, +trowel in hand, patching up the slightest damage to their buildings; +the local manager of a Dufayel store had become almost a fanatic on the +subject. His stock in trade consisted of furniture, china and crockery +of all kinds, housed beneath a glass roof, which seemed to attract the +Boches' special attention, for during the four years of war just past, +I believe that scarcely a week elapsed during which he was not directly +or indirectly the victim of their fire. +</P> + +<P> +The effects were most disastrous, but aided by his wife and an elderly +man who had remained in their employ, he would patiently recommence +scrubbing, sweeping and cleaning, carefully reinstating each object or +fragment thereof, in or as near as possible to its accustomed place. +</P> + +<P> +It was nothing less than miraculous to survey those long lines of +wardrobes that seemed to hold together by the grace of the Almighty +alone; gaze upon whole rows of tables no one of which had the requisite +number of legs; behold mere skeletons of chairs, whose seats or backs +were missing; sofas where gaping wounds displayed the springs; huge +piles of plates each one more nicked or cracked than its predecessor; +series of flower pots which fell to pieces in one's hands if one were +indiscreet enough to touch them. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see the point in straightening things out so often"—was my +casual comment. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Madame, what on earth would we do about the inventory when peace +comes, if we were not to put a little order into our stock?" was the +immediate reply. +</P> + +<P> +I was sorry I had spoken. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Among the other numerous places of interest was the store of a dealer +in haberdashery and draperies. An honest, well equipped old fashioned +French concern, whose long oak counters were well polished from +constant use. The shelves were piled high with piece after piece of +wonderful material, but not a single one of them had been exempt from +the murderous rain of steel; they were pierced, and pierced, and +pierced again. +</P> + +<P> +"So pierced that there is not a length sufficient to make even a cap!" +explained Madame L., "but you just can't live in disorder all the time, +and customers wouldn't like to see an empty store. Everything we have +to sell is in the cellar!" +</P> + +<P> +And true enough this subterranean existence had long ceased to be a +novelty, and had become almost a habit. +</P> + +<P> +From the basement windows of every inhabited dwelling protruded a stove +pipe, and the lower regions had gradually come to be furnished almost +as comfortably as the upper rooms in normal days. Little by little the +kitchen chair and the candle had given way to a sofa and a hanging +lamp; beds were set up and rugs put in convenient places. +</P> + +<P> +"We live so close to the trenches that by comparison it seems like a +real paradise to us," gently explained Madame Daumont, the pork +butcher. Her <I>charcuterie</I> renowned far and wide for its hot meat +patès, ready just at noon, had been under constant fire ever since the +invasion, but had never yet failed to produce its customary ovenful at +the appointed hour. +</P> + +<P> +"At the time of the battle of Crouy," she confessed, "I was just on the +point of shutting up shop and leaving. I'm afraid I was a bit hasty, +but three shells had hit the house in less than two hours, and my old +mother was getting nervous. The dough for my patés was all ready, but +I hesitated. Noon came, and with it my clientèle of Officers. +</P> + +<P> +"'<I>Eh bien, nos patés</I>? What does this mean!' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I cannot make up my mind to bear it +another day. I'm leaving in a few moments.' +</P> + +<P> +"'What? Leaving? And we who are going out to meet death have got to +face it on empty stomachs?' +</P> + +<P> +"They were right. In a second I thought of my own husband out there in +Lorraine. So I said to them 'Come back at four o'clock and they'll be +ready.'" +</P> + +<P> +And then gently, and as though to excuse herself, she added— +</P> + +<P> +"There are moments though when fear makes you lose your head, but there +doesn't seem to be anything you can't get used to." +</P> + +<P> +"You soon get used to it" was the identical expression of a young +farmer's aid who sold fruit, vegetables and flowers beneath an archway +that had once been the entrance to the Hotel de la Clef. She had +attracted my attention almost immediately, the brilliant colours of her +display, and her pink and white complexion, standing out so fresh and +clear against the background of powder-stained stones and chalky ruin +heaps. +</P> + +<P> +The next day, after an extra heavy nocturnal bombardment, we went out +in search of a melon. A shell had shattered her impromptu showcase, +dislocated a wall on one side of the archway, which menaced immediate +collapse. In fact, the place had become untenable. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's such a nuisance to have to look for another sure spot," was +the only lament. "Just see, there's a whole basket of artichokes gone +to waste—and my roses—what a pity!" +</P> + +<P> +An explosion had gutted the adjacent building leaving an immense breach +opening on to the street from what had once been an office or perhaps a +store-room. +</P> + +<P> +"Just wait a moment," she pleaded, "until I get set up inside there. +You can't half see what I've got out here." +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later I returned and explained the object of my quest. +</P> + +<P> +"We've only got a very few, Madame, our garden is right in their range, +and we had a whole melon patch destroyed by splinters, only day before +yesterday. I had three this morning, but I sold them all to the +gentleman of the artillery, and I've promised to-morrow's to the +Brigade Officers. I hardly think I shall be able to dispose of any +more before the end of the week. But why don't you go and see 'Père +François'? He might have some." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean old Père François who keeps the public gardens?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Madame." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I know him very well. I've often exchanged seeds and slips with +him. Does he still live where he used to?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe so." +</P> + +<P> +We were not long seeking him out, and in response to our knocking his +good wife opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's out in his garden," was her reply to our queries. "You can't +keep him away from it. But he's going crazy, I think. He wants to +attend to everything all by himself now. There isn't a soul left to +help him, and he'll kill himself, or be killed at it as sure as I'm +alive. You'll see, the shells won't miss him. He's escaped so far but +he may not always be so lucky. He's already had a steel splinter in +his thumb, and one of them tore a hole in his cap and in his waistcoat. +That's close enough, I should think. But there's no use of my talking; +he just won't listen to me. He's mad about gardening. That's what he +is!" +</P> + +<P> +On the old woman's assurance that we would find him by pounding hard on +the gateway leading to the Avenue de la Gare, we hastened away, leaving +her to babble her imprecations to a lazy tabby cat who lay sunning +itself in a low window box. +</P> + +<P> +The old fellow being a trifle deaf we were destined to beat a rather +lengthy tattoo on the high iron gate. But our efforts were crowned +with success, for presently we heard his steps approaching, his sabots +crunching on the gravel path. +</P> + +<P> +His face lighted up when he saw us. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I remember you, of course I do. You're the lady who used to have +the American sweet peas and the Dorothy Perkins. I know you! And the +dahlias I gave you? How did they turn out?" +</P> + +<P> +I grew red and sought to change the conversation. Perhaps he saw and +understood. +</P> + +<P> +"Come and see mine anyway!" +</P> + +<P> +That sight alone would have made the trip worth while. +</P> + +<P> +"I cut the grass this very morning so as they'd show off better! +They're so splendid this year that I've put some in the garden at the +Hotel de Ville." +</P> + +<P> +Further on the <I>Gloire de Dijon, La France</I> and <I>Maréchal Niels</I> spread +forth all their magnificent odorous glory onto the balmy air of this +Isle de France country, whose skies are of such exquisite delicate +blue, whose very atmosphere breathes refinement. +</P> + +<P> +I felt my old passion rising;—that passion which in times gone by had +drawn us from our sleep at dawn, and scissors and pruning knife in +hand, how many happy hours had H. and I thus spent; he at his fruit +trees, I at my flower beds, cutting, trimming, scraping, clipping; +inwardly conscious of other duties neglected, but held as though +fascinated by the most alluring infatuation in the world—the love of +nature. Here now in this delightful garden kept up by the superhuman +efforts of a faithful old man, the flame kindled anew. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant H. had discovered the espaliers where <I>Doyenné du +Cornice</I> and <I>Passe Cressane</I> were slowly but surely attaining the +required degree of perfection beneath Père François' attentive care. +As I stood open mouthed in wonder before the largest bush of fuchsias I +had ever yet beheld, an explosion rent the air, quickly followed by a +second, the latter much closer to us. +</P> + +<P> +"Boche bombs! Come quick," said Père François without seeming in the +least ruffled. +</P> + +<P> +Led by the old man we hastened to a tiny grotto, in whose depths we +could hear a fountain bubbling. Legion must have been the loving +couples that have visited this spot in times gone by, for their vows of +fidelity were graven in endearing terms on the stony sides of the +retreat. <I>Léon et Marguerite pour toujours, Alice et Théodore, Georges +et Germaine</I> were scrawled above innumerable arrow-pierced hearts. +</P> + +<P> +"All things considered, I'd rather they'd send us over a shell or two +than bomb us from above!" ejaculated Père François, who spoke from +experience. +</P> + +<P> +"It was one of those hateful things that hit my Japanese pepper tree on +the main lawn, and killed our only cedar. The handsomest specimen we +had here! It makes me sick every time I throw a log of it on to the +fire in the Winter. I can't tell you how queer it makes me feel. Of +course, it's bad enough for them to kill men who are their enemies, but +think of killing trees that it takes hundreds of years to grow. What +good can that do them?" +</P> + +<P> +The Boche deemed at a safe distance, we visited the vegetable garden +where we purchased our melon and were presented with any number of +little packets containing seeds. We protested at the old man's +generosity and sought to remunerate him. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing of the kind; I wouldn't think of accepting it. It's my +pleasure. Why it's been ages since I had such a talk as this. I'm so +glad you came. So glad for my roses too!" and he started to cut a +splendid bouquet. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been saying to myself every day," he continued, "Isn't it a pity +that nobody should see them? But now I feel satisfied." +</P> + +<P> +At the gateway we held out our hands which he took and shook most +heartily, renewing his protestations of delight at our visit, and +begging us to "Come again soon." +</P> + +<P> +"To be happy one must cultivate his garden," murmured H., quoting +Voltaire as we made off down the road. And within a day or two we +again had an excellent proof of this axiom when we discovered that Abbé +L. still resided in his little home whose garden extended far into the +shadow of St. Jean des Vignes. +</P> + +<P> +That worthy ecclesiastic gave over every moment that was not employed +in the exercise of his sacred functions to the joys of archaeological +research, and was carefully compiling a history of the churches in the +arrondissement of Soissons and Château-Thierry. He had been our guest +at Villiers, and I remember having made for him an imprint of two +splendid low-relief tombstones which date back to the 15th century, and +were the sole object and ornament of historic interest in our little +village chapel. +</P> + +<P> +This history was the joy and sole distraction of his entire existence, +and he never ceased collecting documents and photographs, books, plans +and maps, all of which though carefully catalogued, threatened one day +to take such proportions that his modest dwelling would no longer +suffice to hold them. +</P> + +<P> +We found him comfortably installed behind a much littered kitchen table +in a room that I had heretofore known as his dining room. I was a bit +struck by its disorder, and the good man was obliged to remove several +piles of papers from the chairs before inviting us to be seated. +</P> + +<P> +"I trust you will forgive this confusion," he begged, "but you see a +shell hit my study yesterday noon, and has forced me to take refuge in +this corner of the house which is certainly far safer." +</P> + +<P> +"I've had an excellent occasion to work," he continued. "Our duties +are very slight these days, and the extreme quiet in which we live is +most propitious for pursuing the task I have undertaken." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Monsieur l'Abbé," we cried. "What a paradox! And the +bombardment?" +</P> + +<P> +"Really, you know, I've hardly suffered from it—except when that shell +struck the house the other morning. Of course, the whole edifice +shook, and at one time I thought the roof was coming through upon my +head. My ink bottle was upset and great streams trickled to the floor. +But Divine intervention saved my precious manuscript which I was in the +very act of copying, and although my notes and files were a bit +disarranged, they were easily sorted and set to rights. So you see +there was nothing really to deplore and God has graciously seen fit to +let me continue my work. It is such a joy to be able to do so." +</P> + +<P> +Strange placidity! the immediate countryside for miles around having +long since been delivered up to brutal destruction, wanton waste, +hideous massacre, and a goodly number of the churches of which the +pious man was taking so much pains to record the history, were now but +anonymous heaps of stone. +</P> + +<P> +All the way home I could not refrain from philosophising on the +happiness of life, perfect contentment, and the love of good. My +reflections, while perhaps not particularly deep nor brilliant, were +none the less imbued with a sense of gratitude to the Almighty, and +filled with pity and respect for poor human nature. +</P> + +<P> +It is certain that for such people, the idea of escaping the terrors, +the dangers and the sight of most horrible spectacles, had not weighed +an instant in the balance against the repugnance of altering life-long +habits, or abandoning an assemblage of dearly beloved landscapes and +faces. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally enough, a certain number of commercial minded had remained +behind, tempted by the possibility of abnormal gain through catering to +the soldier; and to whatever had been their habitual merchandise, was +soon added a stock of mandolins, accordions, cheap jewelry, kit bags, +fatigue caps and calico handkerchiefs—in fact all that indispensable, +gaudy trumpery that serves to attract a clientèle uniquely composed of +warriors. +</P> + +<P> +But, besides these merchants, there were still to be counted a certain +number of well-to-do citizens, professors, government employés, priests +and magistrates, all simple honest souls who had stayed because they +were unable to resign themselves to an indefinite residence away from +Soissons, and there was no sacrifice to which they were not resolved in +advance, so long as it procured them the joy of remaining. +</P> + +<P> +I accompanied the President of the local French Red Cross Chapter on a +visit to a lady who was much interested in an <I>ouvroir</I>, and who lived +in a splendid old mansion located near the ruins of the Palais de +Justice. +</P> + +<P> +The little bell tinkled several times, resounding clearly in the +deathlike silence, and presently a young maid-servant made her +appearance at a small door that opened in the heavy portico. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Madame at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Madame! Why didn't Madame know that both Monsieur and Madame +left for the seashore last evening? Shall I give Madame their address +at Houlgate? They've been going there for the last twenty years. They +will be back the first of September as usual." +</P> + +<P> +"How stupid of me," exclaimed my companion. "I might have known +though. We shall discover what we wish to know from Madame V." +</P> + +<P> +We found the last mentioned lady and her daughter in a pretty dwelling +on the boulevard Jeanne d'Arc. After presentations and greetings: +</P> + +<P> +"You are not leaving town this Summer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not this season; unfortunately our country house is at present +occupied by the Germans, and as the mountains are forbidden, and the +sea air excites me so that I become quite ill, I fear we shall have to +remain at home, for the time being at least. The garden is really +delightfully cool though—we sit out there and sew all day." +</P> + +<P> +I asked permission to admire the exquisite embroidered initials which +both mother and daughter were working. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so glad you like them. Do you know we found that monogram on an +old 18th century handkerchief? We merely enlarged it, and really feel +that we have something quite unusual. But my table cloths are well +worth it, they were the very last that were left at the Cour Batave. I +doubt if any finer quality will ever be woven." +</P> + +<P> +"Your daughter will have a wonderful trousseau." +</P> + +<P> +"She will have something durable at least, Madame, a trousseau that +will stand the test of time and washing," replied the good mother +smiling blandly, touched by my appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +"I still have sheets which came down to me from my great grand-mother, +and I hope that my own great grand-sons will some day eat from this +very cloth." +</P> + +<P> +"But they will never guess under what strange circumstances it was +hemmed and embroidered," gently proffered the young girl raising her +big blue eyes and smiling sweetly. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah, what difference does that make so long as they are happy and can +live in peace? That's the principal thing, the one for which we're all +working, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Such is the spirit that pervades all France. It is simple, +undemonstrative heroism, the ardent desire of a race to last in spite +of all. What more imperturbable confidence in its immortality could be +manifested than by this mother and daughter calmly discussing the +durability of their family linen, within actual range of Teuton gunfire +that might annihilate them at any moment? +</P> + +<P> +As we were about to leave Monsieur S. came up the front steps. He had +been out in company of a friend, making his habitual daily tour of the +city. Like most middle aged, well-to-do bourgeois his attire was +composed of a pair of light trousers, slightly baggy at the knee, and a +bit flappy about the leg; a black cutaway jacket and a white piqué +waistcoat. This classic costume usually comports a panama hat and an +umbrella. Now Monsieur S. had the umbrella, but in place of the panama +he had seen fit to substitute a blue steel soldier's helmet, which +amazing military headgear made a strange combination with the remainder +of his civilian apparel. Nevertheless he bowed to us very skilfully, +and at that moment I caught sight of a leather strap, which slung over +one shoulder, hung down to his waist and carried his gas mask. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-054"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-054.jpg" ALT="MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK" BORDER="2" WIDTH="370" HEIGHT="561"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 370px"> +MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS <BR> WITH HIS GAS MASK +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +For several days I laboured under the impression that this mode was +quite unique, but was soon proved mistaken, for on going to the Post +Office to get my mail (three carriers having been killed, there were no +longer any deliveries) I discovered that it was little short of +general. Several ladies had even dared risk the helmet, and the whole +assembly took on a war like aspect that was quite apropos. +</P> + +<P> +Thus adorned, the octogenarian Abbé de Villeneuve, his umbrella swung +across his back, his cassock tucked up so as to permit him to ride a +bicycle, was a sight that I shall never forget. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Monsieur le Curé, you've quite the air of a sportsman." +</P> + +<P> +"My child, let me explain. You see I can no longer trust to my legs, +they're too old and too rheumatic. Well then, when a bombardment sets +in how on earth could I get home quickly without my bicycle?" +</P> + +<P> +As visitors to the front, we were guests of the French Red Cross +Society while in Soissons. The local president, whose deeds of heroism +have astonished the world at large, is an old-time personal friend. +</P> + +<P> +A luncheon in our honour was served on a spotless cloth, in the only +room of that lady's residence which several hundred days of constant +bombardment had still left intact. Yet, save for the fact that paper +had replaced the window panes, nothing betrayed the proximity of the +German. Through the open, vine grown casement, I could look out onto a +cleanly swept little court whose centre piece of geraniums was a +perfect riot of colour. +</P> + +<P> +Around the congenial board were gathered our hostess, the old Curé de +St. Vast, the General in command of the Brigade, his Colonel, three +Aides-de-Camp, my husband and myself. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally, the topic of conversation was the war, but strange as it may +seem, it was we, the civilians, that were telling our friends of the +different activities that were afoot and would eventually bring the +United States to the side of the Allies. +</P> + +<P> +Towards the middle of the repast our enemies began sending over a few +shells and presently a serious bombardment was under way. Yet no one +stirred. +</P> + +<P> +Dishes were passed and removed, and though oft times I personally felt +that the pattering of shrapnel on the tin roof opposite was +uncomfortably close, I was convinced there was no theatrical display of +bravery, no cheap heroism in our companions' unconsciousness. They +were interested in what was being said—<I>voilà tout</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, however, our hostess leaned towards me and I fancied she was +about to suggest a trip cellarward, instead of which she whispered that +on account of the bombardment we were likely to go without dessert +since it had to come from the other side of town and had not yet +arrived. +</P> + +<P> +Then a shell burst quite close, and at the same time the street bell +rang. The <I>cordon</I> was pulled, and through the aperture made by the +backward swing of the great door, I caught sight of a ruddy cheeked, +fair haired maiden in her early teens, bearing a huge bowl of fresh +cream cheese in her outstretched hands. +</P> + +<P> +Steadily she crossed the court, approached the window where she halted, +smiled bashfully, set down her precious burden, and timidly addressing +our hostess: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, Madame," said she, "so sorry if I have made you wait." +</P> + +<P> +And so it goes. +</P> + +<P> +I remember a druggist who on greeting me exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"A pretty life, is it not, for a man who has liver trouble?" And yet +he remained simply because it was a druggist's duty to do so when all +the others are mobilised. +</P> + +<P> +There was also the printer of a local daily, who continued to set up +his type with one side of his shop blown out; who went right on +publishing when the roof caved in, and who actually never ceased doing +so until the whole structure collapsed, and a falling wall had +demolished his only remaining press. +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur le Préfet held counsel and deliberated in a room against whose +outside wall one could hear the constant patter of machine gun bullets +raining thick from the opposite bank of the river. Monsieur Muzart, +the Mayor, seemed to be everywhere at once, and was always the first on +the spot when anything really serious occurred. +</P> + +<P> +Add to these the little dairy maids, who each morning fearlessly +delivered the city's milk; or the old fellow on whom had devolved the +entire responsibility of the street-cleaning department and who went +about, helmet clad, attending to his chores, now and then shouting a +hearty "<I>Whoa Bijou</I>" to a faithful quadruped who patiently dragged his +dump cart, and over whose left ear during the entire Summer, was tied a +bunch of tri-colour field flowers. +</P> + +<P> +I had almost forgotten to mention two extraordinary old women, whom I +came upon seated out in a deserted street, making over a mattress, +while gently discussing their private affairs. It was the end of a +warm July afternoon. A refreshing coolness had begun to rise from the +adjacent river, and in the declining sunlight I could see great swarms +of honey bees hovering about a climbing rose bush whose fragrant +blossoms hung in huge clusters over the top of a convent wall near by. +I could not resist the temptation. Pressed by the desire to possess I +stepped forward and was about to reach upward when a masculine voice, +whose owner was hidden somewhere near my elbow called forth: +</P> + +<P> +"Back, I say! Back! you're in sight!" +</P> + +<P> +I quickly dived into the shadow for cover just in time to hear the +bullets from a German machine gun whizz past my ear! +</P> + +<P> +"You can trust them to see everything," murmured one of the old women, +not otherwise disturbed. "But if you really want some roses just go +around the block and in by the back gate, Madame." +</P> + +<P> +How in the presence of such calm can we believe in war? +</P> + +<P> +Ah, France! elsewhere perhaps there may be just as brave—but surely +none more sweetly! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + + +<P> +The little village was just behind the lines. The long stretch of +roadway, that following the Aisne finally passed through its main +street, had been so thoroughly swept by German fire that it was as +though pockmarked by ruts and shell holes, always half full of muddy +water. +</P> + +<P> +A sign to the left said— +</P> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Chemin, défilé de V.</I>— +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P> +There could be no choice; there was but to follow the direction +indicated, branch out onto a new highway which, over a distance of two +or three miles, wound in and out with many strategic contortions; a +truly military route whose topography was the most curious thing +imaginable. If by accident there happened to be a house in its way it +didn't take the trouble to go <I>around</I>, but <I>through</I> the edifice. +</P> + +<P> +One arrived thus in the very midst of the village, having involuntarily +traversed not only the notary's flower garden, but also his +drawing-room, if one were to judge by the quality of the now much faded +wall paper, and the empty spots where portraits used to hang. +</P> + +<P> +The township had served as target to the German guns for many a long +month, and was seriously <I>amoché</I>, as the saying goes. "Coal scuttles" +by the hundred had ripped the tiles from almost every roof. Huge +breaches gaped in other buildings, while some of them were completely +levelled to the ground. Yet, in spite of all, moss, weeds and vines +had sprung up mid the ruins, adding, if possible, the picturesque to +this scene of desolation. One robust morning glory I noted had climbed +along a wall right into the soot of a tumble-down chimney, and its +fairylike blossoms lovingly entwined the iron bars whereon had hung and +been smoked many a succulent ham. +</P> + +<P> +The territorials (men belonging to the older army classes), had +installed their mess kitchens in every convenient corner: some in the +open court-yards and others beneath rickety stables and sheds, where +the sunlight piercing the gloom caught the dust in its rays and made it +seem like streams of golden powder, whose brightness enveloped even the +most sordid nooks and spread cheer throughout the dingy atmosphere. +</P> + +<P> +Fatigue squads moved up and down the road, seeking or returning with +supplies, while those who were on duty, pick and shovel in hand, moved +off to their work in a casual, leisurely manner one would hardly term +military. +</P> + +<P> +Of civilians there remained but few. Yet civilians there were, and of +the most determined nature: "hangers-on" who when met in this vicinity +seemed almost like last specimens of an extinct race, sole survivors of +the world shipwreck. +</P> + +<P> +At the moment of our arrival an old peasant woman was in the very act +of scolding the soldiers, who to the number of two hundred and fifty (a +whole company) filled to overflowing her modest lodgings, where it +seemed to me half as many would have been a tight squeeze. It was +naturally impossible for her to have an eye on all of them. In her +distress she took me as witness to her trials. +</P> + +<P> +"Just see," she vociferated, "they trot through my house with their +muddy boots, they burn my wood, they're drying up my well, and on top +of it all they persist in smoking in my hay-loft, and the hay for next +Winter is in! Shouldn't you think their Officers would look after +them? Why, I have to be a regular watch-dog, I do!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all very well, mother," volunteered a little dried up Corporal. +"But how about <I>their</I> incendiary shells? You'll get one of them +sooner or later. See if you don't!" +</P> + +<P> +"If it comes, we'll take it; we've seen lots worse than that! Humph! +That's no reason why you should mess up a house that belongs to your +own people, is it? I'd like to know what your wife would say if she +caught you smoking a pipe in her hay loft?" +</P> + +<P> +Shouts of laughter from the culprits. Then a tall, lean fellow, taking +her side, called out: +</P> + +<P> +"She's right, boys, she had a hard enough job getting the hay in all by +herself. Put out your pipes since that seems to get on her nerves. +Now then, mother, there's always a way of settling a question between +honest people. We won't smoke in your hay any more; that is, provided +you'll sell us fresh vegetables for our mess." +</P> + +<P> +The old woman was trapped and had to surrender, which she did, but most +ungraciously, all the while moaning that she would more than likely die +of starvation the following Winter. So a moment later the group +dispersed on hearing the news that the "Auto-bazaar" had arrived. +</P> + +<P> +This auto-bazaar certainly contained more treasures than were ever +dreamed of in ancient Golconda. There was everything the soldier's +heart might desire, from gun grease and cigarette paper down to wine +and provisions; the whole stored away in a literal honey-comb of +shelves and drawers with which the sides were lined. +</P> + +<P> +The men all hurried forward. Loaded with water bottles, their hands +full of coppers, they clustered about it. +</P> + +<P> +From his dominating position at the rear end of the truck, the +store-keeper announced: +</P> + +<P> +"No more pork pie left!" +</P> + +<P> +This statement brought forth several indignant oaths from the +disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +"It's always that way, they're probably paid to play that joke on us. +It was the same story last time! We'll send in a complaint. See if we +don't." +</P> + +<P> +But these grumblings were soon outvoiced by the announcement— +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty of head-cheese and camembert. Now then! boys, who's ready?" +</P> + +<P> +The effect was instantaneous. +</P> + +<P> +Smiles broke out on every countenance. The good news was quickly +spread abroad, and presently the sound of plates and dishes, clinking +cups, and joyful laughter recalled a picnic which we had organised in +the vicinity, one warm July afternoon some four years ago. +</P> + +<P> +A military band rehearsing a march in an open field just behind us +added life and gaiety to the scene, and reminded me of the +"Merry-go-round," the chief attraction of that defunct country fair, +and upon which even the most dignified of our friends had insisted +riding. +</P> + +<P> +After all, could it be possible that this was the very midst of war? +Was it such a terrible thing, since the air fairly rung with merriment? +</P> + +<P> +"Make room there," called a gruff voice, not far distant. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand aside! Quick now!" +</P> + +<P> +The crowd parted, and a couple of stretcher bearers with their sad +human burden put an end to my soliloquy. My afternoon was stained with +blood. On their litter they bore a lad whose bloodless lips, +fluttering eyelids, and heaving breast, bespoke unutterable suffering. +</P> + +<P> +One must have actually witnessed such sights to realise the enormity of +human agony, grasp the torment that a stupid bit of flying steel can +inflict upon a splendid human frame—so well, so happy, so full of hope +but a second since. Oh, the pity of it all! +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it?" the men whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"Belongs to the 170th. They replaced us. He was caught in the <I>Boyau +des Anglais</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a wicked spot, that is!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is he one of ours?" questioned a man from an upper window, stopping an +instant in the act of polishing his gun. +</P> + +<P> +"No," answers some one. +</P> + +<P> +The enquirer recommenced his work, and with it the refrain of his song, +just where he had left off. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Sur les bords de la Riviera</I>," sang he blithely. +</P> + +<P> +Little groups formed along the wayside. Seated on the straw they +finished their afternoon meal, touching mugs, and joking together. +Near them the artillerymen greased and verified their axles; others +brushed and curried the horses. In one spot a hair dresser had set up +his tonsorial parlor in the open, and his customers formed in line +awaiting their turns. +</P> + +<P> +Further on the <I>permissionaires</I> blacked their boots and furbished +their raiment, making ready to leave for home. Swarms of humming birds +and bees clustered about a honeysuckle vine which clung to the +fragments of a fence near by, and whose fragrance saturated the air. +</P> + +<P> +The friend, whose regiment number we had recognised, and stopped to +see, came up from behind and touched me on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, of all things! What on earth are you doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +We explained our mission, and then inquired about mutual acquaintances. +</P> + +<P> +"Pistre? Why he's with the munitions in the 12xth. We'll go over and +see him. It's not far. But hold on a minute, isn't Lorrain a friend +of yours?" +</P> + +<P> +We acquiesced. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, his son's my lieutenant. I'll go and get him. He'd be too +sorry to miss you." +</P> + +<P> +He disappeared and a few moments later returned followed by his +superior, a handsome little nineteen year old officer, who came running +up, his pipe in his mouth, his drinking cup still in his hand. The lad +blushed scarlet on seeing us, for he doubtless recalled, as did I, the +times not long gone by, when I used to meet him at a music teacher's, +his long curls hanging over his wide sailor collar. +</P> + +<P> +The idea that this mere infant should have command over such a man as +our friend Nourrigat, double his age, and whose life of work and +struggle had been a marvel to us all, somewhat shocked me. +</P> + +<P> +I think the little chap felt it, for he soon left us, pleading that he +must be present at a conference of officers. +</P> + +<P> +"A brave fellow and a real man," commented Nourrigat, as the boy moved +away. "His whole company has absolute confidence in him. You can't +imagine the calm and prestige that kid possesses in the face of danger. +He's the real type of leader, he is! And let me tell you, he's pretty +hard put sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +And then in a burst of genuine enthusiasm, he continued: +</P> + +<P> +"It's wonderful to be under twenty, with a smart little figure, a +winsome smile, and a gold stripe on your sleeve. The women willingly +compare you to the Queen's pages, or Napoleon's handsome hussars. That +may be all very well in a salon, or in the drawings you see in 'La Vie +Parisienne,' but it takes something more than that to be a true +officer. He's got to know the ropes at playing miner, bombarder, +artilleryman, engineer, optician, accountant, caterer, undertaker, +hygienist, carpenter, mason—I can't tell you what all. And in each +particular job he's got to bear the terrible responsibility of human +lives; maintain the discipline and the moral standard, assure the +cohesion of his section. Moreover, he's called upon to receive orders +with calm and reserve under the most difficult and trying +circumstances, must grasp them with lightning speed and execute them +according to rules and tactics. A moment of hesitancy or +forgetfulness, and he is lost. The men will no longer follow him. I +tell you it isn't everybody that's born to be a leader!" +</P> + +<P> +"But, was he educated for the career?" we questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think so. I imagine he's just waiting for the end of the war +to continue his musical studies—that is if he comes out alive." +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I? Why I've no particular ambition. I suppose I could have gone into +the Camouflage Corps if I'd taken the trouble to ask. But what's the +use of trying to shape your own destiny?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've gotten used to this life?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not in the least. I abominate and adore it all in the same breath. +Or, to be more explicit, I admire the men and abhor the military +pictures, the thrilling and sentimental ideas of the warrior with which +the civilian head is so generously crammed. I love military servitude, +and the humble life of the men in the ranks, but I have a genuine +horror of heroes and their sublimity. +</P> + +<P> +"Just look over there," he went on, waving his hand towards a long line +of seated <I>poilus</I> who were peacefully enjoying their pipes, while +wistfully watching the smoke curl upward. "Just look at them, aren't +they splendid? Why they've got faces like the 'Drinkers' in the +Velasquez picture. See that little fellow rolling his cigarette? +Isn't he the image of the Bacchus who forms the centre of the painting? +That's Brunot, and he's thinking about all the god-mothers whose +letters swell out his pockets. He can't make up his mind whether he +prefers the one who lives in Marseilles and who sent him candied +cherries and her photograph; or the one from Laval who keeps him well +supplied with devilled ham which he so relishes. The two men beside +him are Lemire and Lechaptois—both peasants. When they think, it's +only of their farms and their wives. That other little thin chap is a +Parisian bookkeeper. I'd like to bet that he's thinking of his wife, +and only of her. He's wondering if she's faithful to him. It's almost +become an obsession. I've never known such jealousy, it's fairly +killing him. +</P> + +<P> +"That man Ballot, just beyond"—and our friend motioned up the +line—"that man Ballot would give anything to be home behind his +watch-maker's stand. In a moment or so he'll lean over and begin a +conversation with his neighbour Thevenet. They've only one topic, and +it's been the same for two years. It's angling. They haven't yet +exhausted it. +</P> + +<P> +"All of them at bottom are heartily wishing it were over; they've had +enough of it. But they're good soldiers, just as before the war they +were good artisans. The <I>métier</I> is sacred—as are the Family and +Duty. 'The Nation, Country, Honour' are big words for which they have +a certain repugnance. +</P> + +<P> +"'That's all rigmarole that somebody hands you when you've won the +Wooden Cross and a little garden growing over your tummy,' is the way +they put it in their argot. 'The Marseillaise, the Chant du Depart are +all right for the youngsters, and the reviews—and let me tell you, the +reviews take a lot of furbishing and make a lot of dust. That's all +they really amount to.' +</P> + +<P> +"When they sing, it's eternally 'The Mountaineers' who, as you know, +are always 'there,' 'Sous les Ponts de Paris,' 'Madelon' and other +sentimental compositions, and if by accident, in your desire to please, +you were prone to compare them to the heroes of Homer, it's more than +likely your pains would be rewarded by the first missile on which they +could lay their hands and launch in your direction. They will not +tolerate mockery. +</P> + +<P> +"No"—he went on, filling his pipe, and enunciating between each puff. +"No, they are neither supermen nor heroes; no more than they are +drunkards or foul mouthed blackguards. No, they are better than all +that—they are men, real men, who do everything they do well; be it +repairing a watch, cabinet-making, adding up long columns of figures or +peeling potatoes, mounting guard, or going over the top! They do the +big things as though they were small, the small things as though they +were big! +</P> + +<P> +"Two days ago the captain sent for two men who had been on patrol duty +together. He had but one decoration to bestow and both chaps were in +hot discussion as to who should <I>not</I> be cited for bravery. +</P> + +<P> +"'Now, boys, enough of this,' said the captain. 'Who was leading, and +who first cut the German barbed wire?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Dubois.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well then, Dubois, what's all this nonsense? The cross is yours.' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, sir, if you please, that would be idiotic! I'm a foundling, +haven't any family. What's a war cross more or less to me? Now Paul +here keeps a café; just think of the pleasure it will give his +clientèle to see him come back decorated.' +</P> + +<P> +"The captain who knows his men, understood Dubois' sincerity, and so +Paul got the medal. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it was Peguy who said that 'Joan of Arc' has the same +superiority over other saints, as the man who does his military service +has over those who are exempt.' But it's only the soldiers who really +understand that, and when they say <I>On les aura</I>, it means something +more from their lips, than when uttered by a lady over her tea-cups, or +a reporter in his newspaper." +</P> + +<P> +During this involuntary monologue we had strolled along the road which +Nourrigat had originally indicated as the direction of our friend +Pistre. Presently he led us into the church, a humble little village +sanctuary. A shell had carried away half the apse, and sadly damaged +the altar. The belfry had been demolished and the old bronze bell +split into four pieces had been carefully fitted together by some +loving hand, and stood just inside the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +St. Anthony of Padua had been beheaded, and of St. Roch there remained +but one foot and half his dog. Yet, a delightful sensation of peace +and piety reigned everywhere. From the confessional rose the murmur of +voices, and the improvised altar was literally buried beneath garlands +of roses. +</P> + +<P> +In what had once been a chapel, a soldier now sat writing. His note +books were spread before him on a table, a telephone was at his elbow. +</P> + +<P> +Chalk letters on a piece of broken slate indicate that this is the +"<I>Bureau de la 22e</I>." +</P> + +<P> +An old bent and withered woman, leaning on a cane, issued from this +office-chapel as we approached. +</P> + +<P> +"Why that's mother Tesson," exclaimed Nourrigat. "Good evening, +mother; how's your man to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better, sir. Much better, thank you. They've taken very good care of +him at your hospital." +</P> + +<P> +The old couple had absolutely refused to evacuate their house. The +Sous-Prefet, the Prefet, all the authorities had come and insisted, but +to no avail. +</P> + +<P> +"We've lost everything," she would explain. "Our three cows, our +chickens, our pigs. Kill us if you like, but don't force us to leave +home. We worked too hard to earn it!" +</P> + +<P> +And so they had hung on as an oyster clings to its rock. One shell had +split their house in twain, another had flattened out the hayloft. The +old woman lay on her bed crippled with rheumatism, her husband a victim +of gall stones. Their situation was truly most distressing. +</P> + +<P> +But there were the soldiers. Not any special company or +individual—but the soldiers, the big anonymous mass—who took them in +charge and passed them on from one to another. +</P> + +<P> +"We leave father and mother Tesson to your care," was all they said to +the new comers as they departed. But that was sufficient, and so the +old couple were nursed, clothed and fed by those whom one would suppose +had other occupations than looking after the destitute. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-078"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-078.jpg" ALT="A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT" BORDER="2" WIDTH="370" HEIGHT="567"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 370px"> +A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Three times the house was brought to earth. Three times they rebuilt +it. The last time they even put in a stove so that the old woman would +not have to bend over to reach her hearth. New beds were made and +installed, the garden dug and planted. The old man was operated upon +at the Division Hospital, and when he became convalescent they shared +the contents of their home packages with him. +</P> + +<P> +Who were they? This one or that one? Mother Tesson would most surely +have been at a loss to name the lad who returned from his furlough +bringing two hens and a rooster to start her barnyard. She vaguely +remembered that he was from the south, on account of his accent, and +that he must have travelled across all France with his cage of chickens +in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +They entered her home, smoked a pipe by her fireside, helped her to +wash the dishes or shell peas; talked a moment with her old man and +left, saying <I>au revoir</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Another would come back greeting her with a cordial "<I>Bonjour, mère +Tesson</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Good day, my son," she would reply. +</P> + +<P> +And it was this constantly changing new found son who would chop wood, +draw water from the well, write a letter that would exempt them from +taxes, or make a demand for help from the American Committees. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the aged pair had lived happily, loved and respected, absolutely +without want, and shielded from all material worry. And when some poor +devil who has spent four sleepless nights in the trenches, on his +return steals an hour or two from his well earned, much craved sleep, +in order to hoe their potato patch, one would doubtless be astonished +to hear such a man exclaim by way of excuse for his conduct— +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the poor old souls! Just think of it! At their age. What a +pity." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +We found Pistre making a careful toilet with the aid of a tin pail full +of water. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a surprise, on my soul!" +</P> + +<P> +We hastened to give him news of his family and friends. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he turned towards Nourrigat. +</P> + +<P> +"How about your regiment? Stationary?" +</P> + +<P> +"I fancy so. We were pretty well thinned out. We're waiting for +reinforcements." +</P> + +<P> +"What's become of Chenu, and Morlet and Panard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gone! all of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Too bad! They were such good fellows!" +</P> + +<P> +And our friends smiled, occupied but with the thought of the living +present. Paris, their friends, their families, their professions, all +seemed to be forgotten, or completely over-shadowed by the habitual +daily routine of marches and halts, duties and drudgery. They were no +longer a great painter and a brilliant barrister. They were two +soldiers; two atoms of that formidable machine which shall conquer the +German; they were as two monks in a monastery—absolutely oblivious to +every worldly occupation. +</P> + +<P> +We understand, we feel quite certain that they will be ours again—but +later—when this shall all be over—if God spares them to return. +</P> + +<P> +At that same instant two boys appeared at the entrance to the +courtyard. They may have been respectively ten and twelve years of +age. The perspiration trickled from their faces, and they were bending +beneath the weight of a huge bundle each carried on his back. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, there, fellows," called one of them. +</P> + +<P> +A soldier appeared on the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +"Here Lefranc—here are your two boxes of sardines, and your snuff. +There isn't any more plum jam to be had. Oh, yes, and here's your +writing paper." +</P> + +<P> +The child scribbled something in an old account book. +</P> + +<P> +"That makes fifty-three sous," he finally announced. +</P> + +<P> +Other soldiers now came up. +</P> + +<P> +The boys were soon surrounded by a group of eager gesticulating +<I>poilus</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up, can't you? How can a fellow think if you all scream at +once? Here—Mimile"—and he turned to his aid. "Don't you give 'em a +thing." +</P> + +<P> +Then the tumult having subsided, he continued— +</P> + +<P> +"Now then, your names, one at a time—and don't muddle me when I'm +trying to count!" +</P> + +<P> +Pistre quickly explained that this phenomenon was Popaul called +"Business"—and Mimile, his clerk, both sons of a poor widow who washed +for the soldiers. In spite of his tender years "Business" had +developed a tendency for finance that bespoke a true captain of +industry. He had commenced by selling the men newspapers, and then +having saved enough to buy first one and then a second bicycle, the +brothers went twice a day to Villers Cotterets, some fifteen miles +distant, in quest of the orders given them by the soldiers. At first +the dealers tried to have this commerce prohibited, but as the lads +were scrupulously honest, and their percentage very modest, the +Commandant not only tolerated, but protected them. +</P> + +<P> +Mimile was something of a Jonah, having twice been caught by bits of +shrapnel, which necessitated his being cared for at the dressing +station. +</P> + +<P> +"All his own fault too," exclaimed Business, shrugging his shoulders. +"He's no good at diving. Doesn't flatten out quick enough. Why I used +to come right over the road last Winter when the bombardment was on +full tilt. I was then working for the Legion and the Chasseurs. No +cinch let me tell you! It used to be—'Popaul here—Popaul +there—where's my tobacco? How about my eau-de-Cologne?' There wasn't +any choice with those fellows. It was furnish the goods or bust—and I +never lost them a sou's worth of merchandise either!" +</P> + +<P> +Business knew everything and everybody; all the tricks of the trade, +all the tricks of the soldiers. He had seen all the Generals, and all +the Armies from the British to the Portuguese. +</P> + +<P> +He had an intimate acquaintance with all the different branches of +warfare, as well as a keen memory for slang and patois. He nourished +but one fond hope in his bosom—a hope which in moments of expansion he +imparts, if he considers you worthy of his confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"In four years I'll volunteer for the aviation corps." +</P> + +<P> +"In four years? That's a long way off, my lad. That's going some, I +should say," called a <I>poilu</I> who had overheard the confession. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Business, did I hear you say it won't be over in four +years?" asked another. +</P> + +<P> +"Over? Why, it'll have only just begun. It was the Americans on the +motor trucks who told me so, and I guess they ought to know!" +</P> + +<P> +We watched him distribute his packages, make change and take down his +next day's orders, in a much soiled note-book, and with the aid of a +stubby pencil which he was obliged to wet every other letter. When he +had finished a soldier slipped over towards him. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Paul," he called out to him, "would you do us the honour of +dining with us? We've got a package from home. Bring your brother +with you." +</P> + +<P> +Business was touched to the quick. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm your man," he answered. "And with pleasure. But you must let me +furnish the <I>aperatif</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Just as you say, old man." +</P> + +<P> +Brusquely turning about, the future tradesman sought for his clerk who +had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Mimile," he shouted, "Mimile, I say, run and tell mamma to iron our +shirts and put some polish on our shoes. I'll finish to-day's job by +myself." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + + +<P> +Not satisfied with the havoc wrought in Soissons and other cities of +the front, the Boche is now trying to encircle the head of Paris with +the martyr's crown. The capital, lately comprised in the army zone, +has been called upon to pay its blood tax, and like all the other +heroic maimed and wounded, has none the less retained its good humour, +its confidence and its serenity. +</P> + +<P> +"It will take more than that to prevent us from going to the cafés," +smiled an old Parisian, shrugging his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +And this sentiment was certainly general if one were to judge by the +crowd who literally invaded the <I>terrasses</I> between five and seven, and +none of whom seemed in the least preoccupied or anxious. +</P> + +<P> +<I>Aperatifs</I> have long since ceased to be anything save pleasant +remembrances—yet the custom itself has remained strong as a tradition. +Absinthes, bitters and their like have not only been abolished, but +replaced—and by what? Mineral waters, fruit syrups and tea! +</P> + +<P> +The waiters have been metamorphosed into herbalists. Besides, what am +I saying, there are really no more waiters, save perhaps a few decrepit +specimens whom flatfoot has relegated beyond the name, their waddling +so strangely resembles that of ducks. All the others are serving—at +the front. +</P> + +<P> +From my seat I could see two ferocious looking, medal bespangled +warriors ordering, the one a linden flower and verbena, the other +camomile with mint leaf. And along with the cups, saucers and +tea-pots, the waiter brought a miniature caraffe, which in times gone +by contained the brandy that always accompanied an order of coffee. At +present its contents was extract of orange flower! +</P> + +<P> +There may be certain smart youth who brag about having obtained kirsch +for their <I>tilleul</I>, or rum in their tea, but such myths are scarcely +credited. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally there is the grumbling element who claim that absinthe never +hurt any one, and cite as example the painter Harpignies, who lived to +be almost a hundred, having absorbed on the average of two a day until +the very last. +</P> + +<P> +But all have become so accustomed to making sacrifices that even this +one is passed off with a smile. What can one more or less mean now? +Besides, the women gave up pastry, didn't they? +</P> + +<P> +One joked the first time one ordered an infusion or a lemon vichy, one +was even a bit disgusted at the taste. And then one got used to it, +the same as one is ready to become accustomed to anything; to trotting +about the darkened streets, to going to bed early, to getting along +without sugar, and even to being bombed. +</P> + +<P> +There is a drawing by Forain which instantly obtained celebrity, and +which represents two French soldiers talking together in the trenches. +</P> + +<P> +"If only they're able to stick it out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"The civilians!" +</P> + +<P> +And now at the end of four long years it may be truly said of the +civilian that he has "seen it through." Not so gloriously, perhaps, +but surely quite as magnificently as his brothers at the front. +</P> + +<P> +In a country like France, where all men must join the army, the +left-behind is not an indifferent being; he is a father, a brother, a +son, or a friend; he is that feverish creature who impatiently waits +the coming of the postman, who lives in a perpetual state of agony, +trembles for his dear ones, and at the same time continues his +business, often doubling, even trebling his efforts so as to replace +the absent, and still has sufficient sense of humour to remark: +</P> + +<P> +"In these days when every one is a soldier, it's a hard job to play the +civilian." +</P> + +<P> +Last summer an American friend said to me: +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, there are some changes, but as I go about the streets day +in and day out, it hardly seems as though Paris were conscious of the +war. It is quite unbelievable." +</P> + +<P> +But that very same evening when slightly after eleven, Elizabeth and I +sauntered up the darkened, deserted Faubourg St. Honoré— +</P> + +<P> +"Think," she said, catching my arm, "just think that behind each and +every one of those façades there is some one suffering, hoping, +weeping, perhaps in secret! Think of the awful moment when all the +bells shall solemnly toll midnight, every stroke resounding like a +dirge in the souls of those who are torn with anxiety, who crave +relief, and patiently implore a sleep that refuses to come." +</P> + +<P> +The soldiers know it, know but too well the worth of all the energies +expended without thought of glory; appreciate the value of that +stoicism which consists in putting on a bold front and continuing the +every-day life, without betraying a trace of sorrow or emotion. +</P> + +<P> +Many a husband is proud of his wife, many a brother of his sister, and +many a son of his father and his mother. +</P> + +<P> +Even those, who all things considered would seem the farthest from the +war, suffer untold tortures. How often last autumn did H. and I pay +visits to old artist friends, men well into the sixties with no +material worries, and no one at the front; only to find them alone in +one corner of their huge studios, plunged in profound reveries, and +utterly unconscious of the oncoming night, or the rain that beat +against the skylights. +</P> + +<P> +"I know, I know, it's all very well to shake yourself and say you must +work. It's easy enough to recall that in 1870 Fantin Latour shut +himself up and painted fruit and flowers, and by emulation, buoyed up +perhaps by this precedent, you sit down and sketch a still life. What +greater joy than to seek out a harmony, find the delicate suave tones, +and paint it in an unctuous medium. Yes, it's a joy, but only when +head and heart are both in it! The museums too, used to be a source of +untold pleasure, but even if they were open you wouldn't go, because +the head and the heart are 'Out there' where that wondrous youth is +being mowed down—'Out there' where lies our every hope, 'Out there' +where we would like to be, all of us! 'Tis hardly the moment to paint +ripe grapes and ruddy apples, and to feel that you're only good for +that! It's stupid to be old!" +</P> + +<P> +And many, many a dear old man has passed away, unnoticed. When one +asks the cause of a death friends shrug their shoulders, +</P> + +<P> +"We scarcely know, some say one thing, some another—perhaps the war!" +</P> + +<P> +"In proportion you'll find that there are as many deaths on the +Boulevard as in the trenches," said our friend, Pierre Stevens, on +returning from Degas' funeral. +</P> + +<P> +I would you might go with me, all you who love France, into one of +those Parisian houses, where after dinner when the cloth has been +removed, the huge road maps are spread out on the dining-room table, +and every one eagerly bends over them with bated breath, while the +latest <I>communiqué</I> is read. Fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and +little children, friends and relatives, solemnly, anxiously await the +name of their <I>secteurs</I>—the <I>secteurs</I> where <I>their</I> loved ones are +engaged. How all the letters are read, re-read and handed about, each +one seeking a hidden sense, the meaning of an allusion; how dark grows +every brow when the news is not so good—what radiant expanse at the +word victory. +</P> + +<P> +And through fourteen hundred long days this same scene has been +repeated, and no one has ever quailed. +</P> + +<P> +The theatres have cellars prepared to receive their audiences in case +of bombardment, and one of our neighbours, Monsieur Walter, has just +written asking permission in my absence to build an armoured dug-out in +the hallway of my home. +</P> + +<P> +"It is precisely the organisation of this dugout that prompts my +writing to you, <I>chère Madame</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"So much bronchitis and so many other ills have been contracted in +cellars, that I hesitate to take my children down there; but on the +other hand, I dare not leave them upstairs, where they would be +altogether too exposed. It is thus that I conceived the idea of asking +your permission to transform into a sort of 'Dug-out dormitory'—(if I +may be permitted the expression) the little passage way, which in your +house separates the dining-room from the green room. To have something +absolutely safe, it would be necessary to give the ceiling extra +support, then set steel plates in the floor of the little linen room +just above and sandbag all the windows. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally, I have done nothing pending your consent. Useless to say, +we will put everything in good order if you return, unless you should +care to use the dug-out yourself. My wife and I shall anxiously await +your reply." +</P> + +<P> +And this in Paris, June 28th, 1918! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I do not know what particular epoch in world war events served as +inspiration to the author of a certain ditty, now particularly popular +among the military. But decidedly his injunction to +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Pack all your troubles in an old kit bag,<BR> +And smile, smile, smile,"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +has been followed out to the letter, in the case of the Parisian, who +has also added that other virtue "Patience" to his already long list of +qualities. +</P> + +<P> +With the almost total lack of means of communication, a dinner downtown +becomes an expedition, and a theatre party a dream of the future. +</P> + +<P> +During the Autumn twilights, on the long avenues swept by the rain, or +at street corners where the wind seizes it and turns it into miniature +water spouts, one can catch glimpses of the weary, bedraggled Parisian, +struggling beneath a rebellious umbrella, patiently waiting for a cab. +He has made up his mind to take the first that goes by. There can be +no question of discrimination. Anything will be welcome. Yes, +anything, even one of those evil-smelling antiquated hackneys drawn by +a decrepit brute who will doubtless stumble and fall before having +dragged you the first five hundred yards, thereby bringing down the +pitiless wrath of his aged driver, not only on his own, but your head. +</P> + +<P> +Taxis whizz by at a rate which leads one to suppose that they had a +rendezvous with dame Fortune. Their occupants are at the same time +objects of envy and admiration, and one calls every latent cerebral +resource to his aid, in order to guess where on earth they were to be +found empty. And how consoling is the disdainful glance of the +chauffeur who, having a fare, is hailed by the unfortunate, desperate +pedestrian that has a pressing engagement at the other end of town. +</P> + +<P> +If one of them ever shows signs of slowing up, it is immediately +pounced upon and surrounded by ten or a dozen damp human beings. +</P> + +<P> +Triumphantly the driver takes in their humble, supplicating glances +(glances which have never been reproduced save in pictures of the +Martyrs), and then clearing his throat he questions: +</P> + +<P> +"First of all I've got to know where you want to go. I'm bound for +Grenelle." +</P> + +<P> +Nobody ever wants to go to Grenelle. +</P> + +<P> +If some one tactfully suggests the Avenue de Messine, he is instantly +rebuffed by a steady stare that sends him back, withered, into the +second row of the group. A shivering woman, taking all her courage +into her hands, suggests the Palais d'Orsay, but is ignored while a man +from behind calls forth "Five francs if you'll take me to the Avenue du +Bois." +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur's glance wavers, it seems possible that he might +entertain the proposal. The gentleman steps forward, already has his +hand on the door handle, when from somewhere in the darkness, helmet +clad, stick in his hand, kit bag over one shoulder, a <I>poilu +permissionaire</I> elbows his way through the crowd. There is no +argument, he merely says, +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, old man, I've got to make the 6.01 at the Gare du Nord; +drive like hell!" +</P> + +<P> +"You should worry. We'll get there." +</P> + +<P> +Now, the Gare du Nord is certainly not in the direction of Grenelle. +On the contrary it is diametrically opposite, geographically speaking. +But nobody seems to mind. The chauffeur is even lauded for his +patriotic sentiments, and one good-hearted, bedraggled creature +actually murmurs: +</P> + +<P> +"I only hope the dear fellow does make it!" +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter if we do have to wait a bit—that's all we've +really got to do, after all," answers an elderly man moving away. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be worse than this if we were in the trenches," chimes in +some one else. +</P> + +<P> +"My son is in water up to his waist out there in Argonne," echoes a +third, as the group disbands. +</P> + +<P> +And yet people do go to the theatre. +</P> + +<P> +Gemier has made triumphant productions, with the translations of the +Shakesperean Society, and true artist that he is, has created +sensational innovations by way of <I>mise-en-scène</I> in the "Merchant of +Venice" and "Anthony and Cleopatra." +</P> + +<P> +It's a far cry now to the once all too popular staging à la Munich. +</P> + +<P> +Lamy and Le Gallo were excruciatingly funny in a farce called "My +God-son," but the real type of theatrical performance which is +unanimously popular, which will hold its own to the very end, is the +Review. +</P> + +<P> +How on earth the authors manage to scrape up enough comic subjects, +when sadness is so generally prevalent, and how they succeed in making +their public laugh spontaneously and heartily, without the slightest +remorse or <I>arrière pensée</I>, has been a very interesting question to me. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally, their field is limited, and there are certain subjects which +are tabooed completely; so the trifling event, the ridiculous side of +Parisian life, have come to the fore. Two special types, the slacker +and the profiteer, or <I>nouveau riche</I>, are very generally and very +thoroughly maltreated. If I am any judge, it is the <I>embusqué</I>, who is +the special pet, and after him come the high cost of living, the lack +of fuel, the obscurity of the streets, the length of women's skirts, +etc.—all pretexts for more or less amusing topical songs. +</P> + +<P> +As to the war itself, they have made something very special of it. +Thanks to them the trenches become a very delightful spot populated by +a squadron of nimble footed misses, who, booted, spurred, +helmet-crowned and costumed in horizon blue, sing of the heroism and +the splendid good humour of the <I>poilu</I> while keeping time to a martial +rhythm. +</P> + +<P> +There is invariably a heavy comedian who impersonates the jovial +<I>chef</I>—preparing a famous sauce in which to dish up "Willy" the day he +shall be captured; the soldier on furlough who is homesick for the +front; the wounded man who stops a moment to sing (with many frills and +flourishes) the joys of shedding one's blood for his country. +</P> + +<P> +Attacks are made to well known accompaniments—Bombardments perpetrated +in the wings by the big bass drum, and both though symbolic, are about +as unreal as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Nobody is illusioned, no one complains. On the contrary, they seem +delighted with the show they have paid to see. Furthermore, the better +part of the audience is composed of soldiers, wounded men, +convalescents, and <I>permissionaires</I>, and they all know what to expect. +</P> + +<P> +Near me sat two of the latter—healthy looking lads, wind burned and +tanned, their uniforms sadly faded and stained, their helmets scarred +and indented. Both wore the Croix de Guerre, and the Fourragère or +shoulder strap, showing the colours of the military medal, which at +that time being quite a novelty, caught and held the eyes of all who +surrounded them. +</P> + +<P> +From scraps of their conversation I learned that they had left the +battle front of the Somme that very morning, were merely crossing +Paris, taking a midnight train which would land them home some time the +following day. +</P> + +<P> +I even managed to gather that their papers had reached them at the very +moment when they came out of the trenches, that they had not even had +time to brush up, so great was their fear of missing the last train. +</P> + +<P> +Less than twenty-four hours ago, then, they had really been in +it—standing out there in the mud, surrounded by rats and the putrid +odour of dead bodies, the prey not only of the elements, but of enemy +bombs and shells, expecting the end at any instant; or curled up, half +frozen in a humid, slimy dug-out, not long enough to permit stretching +out—scarcely deep enough to be called a shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Would they not be disgusted? Ready to protest against this disfigured +travesty of their war? +</P> + +<P> +I feel quite certain they never gave it a thought. Blissfully +installed in their comfortable orchestra seats they didn't intend to +miss a word of the entire performance. And when finally in an endless +chain of verses, a comedian, mimicking a <I>poilu</I> with his kit on his +back, recited his vicissitudes with the army police, and got mixed up +in his interpretation of R.A.T., G.Q.G.—etc., they burst into round +after round of applause, calling and recalling their favourite, while +their sides shook with laughter, and the tears rolled down their cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +These same faces took on a nobly serious aspect, while a tall, pale, +painted damsel draped in a peplum, evoked in ringing tones the glorious +history of the tri-colour. I looked about me—many a manly countenance +was wrinkled with emotion, and women on all sides sniffed audibly. It +was then that I understood, as never before, what a philosopher friend +calls "the force of symbols." +</P> + +<P> +An exact scenic reproduction of the war would have shocked all those +good people; just as this impossible theatrical deformation, this +potpourri of songs, dances and orchestral tremolos charmed and +delighted their care-saturated souls. +</P> + +<P> +Little girls in Alsatian costume, and the eternally sublime Red Cross +nurse played upon their sentimentality; the slacker inspired them with +disgust; they shrieked with delight at the <I>nouveau riche</I>; and their +enthusiasm knew no bounds when towards eleven-fifteen arrived the +"Stars and Stripes" accompanied by a double sextette of khaki-coloured +female ambulance drivers. Tradition has willed it thus. +</P> + +<P> +If the war continue any length of time doubtless the United States will +also become infuriated with the slacker, and I tremble to think of the +special brand of justice that woman in particular will have in store +for the man who does not really go to the front, or who, thanks to +intrigue and a uniform, is spending his days in peace and safety. +</P> + +<P> +Alas, there are <I>embusqués</I> in all countries, just as there are +<I>nouveaux-riches</I>. In Paris these latter are easily discernible. They +have not yet had time to become accustomed to their new luxuries; +especially the women, who wear exaggerated styles, and flaunt their +furs and jewels, which deceive no one. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-102"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-102.jpg" ALT="DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME--PARIS" BORDER="2" WIDTH="371" HEIGHT="561"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 371px"> +DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME—PARIS +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"They buy everything, so long as it is expensive," explained an +antiquity dealer. "They want everything, and want it at once!" +</P> + +<P> +The few old artisans still to be found who are versed in the art of +repairing antiques, are rushed to death, and their ill humour is almost +comic, for in spite of the fact that they are being well paid for their +work, they cannot bear to see these precious treasures falling into the +hands of the vulgar. +</P> + +<P> +"This is for Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So," they inform you with an ironical +smile, quite certain that you have never heard the name before. +</P> + +<P> +It would almost seem as if a vast wave of prosperity had enveloped the +country, were one to judge of the stories of millions made in a minute, +fortunes sprung up over night, new factories erected where work never +ceases; prices paid for real estate, monster strokes on the Bourse. +Little wonder then that in May just past, with the Germans scarcely +sixty miles from Paris, the sale of Degas' studio attained the +extraordinary total of nearly two million dollars; an Ingres drawing +which in 1889 brought eight hundred and fifty francs, selling for +fourteen thousand, and a Greco portrait for which Degas himself gave +four hundred and twenty francs in 1894, fetching eighty-two thousand +francs. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, such things happen even in France, and one hears but too often of +fortunes accumulated in the past four years—but alas! how much more +numerous are those which have been lost. The <I>nouveaux-pauvres</I> far +outnumber the <I>nouveaux-riches</I>; but these former seem to go into +hiding. +</P> + +<P> +The Parisian bourgeois was essentially a property owner. His delight +was in houses; the stone-front six-story kind, the serious rent-paying +proposition, containing ten or a dozen moderate-priced apartments, and +two good stores, from which he derived a comfortable income. Such was +the ultimate desire of the little shop-keeper, desire which spurred him +on to sell and to economise. +</P> + +<P> +A house, some French rentes, government bonds (chiefly Russian in +recent years) and a few city obligations, were the extent of his +investments, and formed not only the nucleus but the better part of +many a French fortune. +</P> + +<P> +Imagine then the predicament of such people under the moratorium. Few +and far between are the tenants who have paid a sou of rent since +August, 1914, and the landlord has no power to collect. Add to this +the ever increasing price of living, and you will understand why many +an elderly Parisian who counted on spending his declining years in +peace and plenty, is now hard at work earning his daily bread. +</P> + +<P> +Made in a moment of emergency, evidently with the intention that it be +of short duration, this law about rentals has become the most +perplexing question in the world. Several attempts have been made +towards a solution, but all have remained fruitless, unsanctioned; and +the property owners are becoming anxious. +</P> + +<P> +That men who have been mobilised shall not pay—that goes without +saying. But the others. How about them? +</P> + +<P> +I happen to know a certain house in a bourgeois quarter of the city +about which I have very special reasons for being well informed. +</P> + +<P> +Both stores are closed. The one was occupied by a book-seller, the +other by a boot-maker. Each dealer was called to the army, and both of +them have been killed. Their estates will not be settled until after +the war. +</P> + +<P> +The first floor was rented to a middle-aged couple. The husband, +professor in a city school, is now prisoner in Germany. His wife died +during the Winter just passed. +</P> + +<P> +On the second landing one entered the home of a cashier in a big +National Bank. He was the proud possessor of a wife and three pretty +babies. The husband, aged thirty-two, left for the front with the rank +of Lieutenant, the first day of the mobilisation. His bank kindly +consented to continue half salary during the war. The lieutenant was +killed at Verdun. His employers offered a year and a half's pay to the +young widow—that is to say, about six thousand dollars, which she +immediately invested in five per cent government rentes. A +lieutenant's yearly pension amounts to about three hundred dollars, and +the Legion of Honour brings in fifty dollars per annum. +</P> + +<P> +They had scarcely had time to put anything aside, and I doubt if he +carried a life insurance. At any rate the education of these little +boys will take something more than can be economised after the bare +necessities of life have been provided. So how is the brave little +woman even to think of paying four years' rent, which when computed +would involve more than two-thirds of her capital? +</P> + +<P> +The third floor tenant is an elderly lady who let herself be persuaded +to put her entire income into bonds of the City of Vienna, Turkish +debt, Russian roubles, and the like. I found her stewing up old +newspapers in a greasy liquid, preparing thus a kind of briquette, the +only means of heating which she could afford. Yet the prospect of a +Winter without coal, possibly without bread, did not prevent her from +welcoming me with a smile, and explaining her case with grace and +distinction, which denoted the most exquisite breeding. Her maid, she +apologised as she bowed me out, was ill of rheumatism contracted during +the preceding Winter. +</P> + +<P> +The top apartment was occupied by a government functionary and his +family. As captain in the infantry he has been at the front since the +very beginning. His wife's family are from Lille, and like most +pre-nuptial arrangements when the father is in business, the daughter +received but the income of her dowry, which joined to her husband's +salary permitted a cheerful, pleasant home, and the prospect of an +excellent education for the children. +</P> + +<P> +The salary ceased with the Captain's departure to the front; the wife's +income stopped when the Germans entered Lille a few weeks later. They +now have but his officer's pay, approximately eighty dollars per month, +as entire financial resource. Add to this the death of a mother and +four splendid brothers, the constant menace of becoming a widow, and I +feel certain that the case will give food for reflection. +</P> + +<P> +All these unfortunate women know each other; have guessed their mutual +misfortunes, though, of course, they never mention them. Gathered +about a single open fire-place whose welcome blaze is the result of +their united economy, they patiently ply their needles at whatever +handiwork they are most deft, beading bags, making filet and mesh +laces, needle-work tapestry and the like, utilising every spare moment, +in the hope of adding another slice of bread to the already too frugal +meals. +</P> + +<P> +But orders are rare, and openings for such work almost nil. To obtain +a market would demand business training which has not been part of +their tradition, which while it tempts, both intimidates and revolts +them. Certain desperate ones would branch out in spite of all—but +they do not know how, dare not seem so bold. +</P> + +<P> +And so Winter will come anew—Winter with bread and sugar rations at a +maximum; Winter with meat prices soaring far above their humble pocket +books. +</P> + +<P> +Soup and vegetable stews quickly become the main article of diet. Each +succeeding year the little mothers have grown paler, and more frail. +The children have lost their fat, rosy cheeks. But let even a local +success crown our arms, let the <I>communiqué</I> bring a little bit of real +news, tell of fresh laurels won, let even the faintest ray of hope for +the great final triumph pierce this veil of anxiety—and every heart +beat quickens, the smiles burst forth; lips tremble with emotion. +These people know the price, and the privilege of being French, the +glory of belonging to that holy nation. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V +</H3> + + +<P> +When after a lengthy search our friends finally discover our Parisian +residence, one of the first questions they put is, "Why on earth is +your street so narrow?" +</P> + +<P> +The reason is very simple. Merely because la rue Geoffrey L'Asnier was +built before carriages were invented, the man who gave it its name +having doubtless dwelt there during the fourteenth or fifteenth +century, as one could easily infer after inspecting the choir of our +parish church. But last Good Friday, the Germans in trying out their +super-cannon, bombarded St. Gervais. The roof caved in, killing and +wounding many innocent persons, and completely destroying that choir. +</P> + +<P> +Elsewhere a panic might have ensued, but residents of our quarter are +not so easily disturbed. The older persons distinctly recall the +burning of the Hotel de Ville and the Archbishop's Palace in 1870. And +did they not witness the battles in the streets, all the horrors of the +Commune, after having experienced the agonies and privations of the +Siege? I have no doubt that among them there are persons who were +actually reduced to eating rats, and I feel quite certain that many a +man used his gun to advantage from between the shutters of his own +front window. +</P> + +<P> +Their fathers had seen the barricades of 1848 and 1830, their +grandfathers before them the Reign of Terror—and so on one might +continue as far back as the Norman invasion. +</P> + +<P> +The little café on the rue du Pont Louis-Philippe serves as meeting +place for all the prophets and strategists of the quarter, who have no +words sufficient to express their disdain for the Kaiser's heavy +artillery. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all bluff, they think they can frighten us! Why, I, Madame, I +who am speaking to you—I saw the Hotel de Ville, the Theatre des +Nations, the grain elevators, all in flames and all at once, the whole +city seemed to be ablaze. Well, do you think that prevented the +Parisians from fishing in the Seine, or made this café shut its doors? +There was a barricade at either end of this street—the blinds were up +and you could hear the bullets patter against them. The insurgents, +all covered with powder, would sneak over and get a drink—and when +finally their barricade was taken, it was the Republican soldiers who +sat in our chairs and drank beer and lemonade! <I>Their</I> guns, humph! +Let them bark!" +</P> + +<P> +It is at this selfsame café that gather all the important men of our +district, much as the American would go to his club. They are serious +<I>bourgeois</I>, well along in the fifties, just a trifle ridiculous, +perhaps on account of their allure and their attire. But should one +grow to know them better he would soon realise that most of them are +shrewd, hard-working business men, each burdened with an anxiety or a +sorrow which he never mentions. +</P> + +<P> +They too love strategy. Armies represented by match safes, dominoes +and toothpicks have become an obsession—their weakness. They are +thorough Frenchmen and their critical sense must be unbridled. They +love their ideas and their systems. They would doubtless not hesitate +to advise Foch. Personally, if I were Foch, I should turn a deaf ear. +But if I were a timid, vacillating, pessimistic spirit, still in doubt +as to the final outcome, I should most certainly seat myself at a +neighbouring table and listen to their conversation that I might come +away imbued with a little of their patience, abnegation, and absolute +confidence. +</P> + +<P> +Nor does the feminine opinion deviate from this course. I found the +same ideas prevalent in the store of a little woman who sold umbrellas. +Before the war Madame Coutant had a very flourishing trade, but now her +sales are few and far between, while her chief occupation is repairing. +She is a widow without children, and no immediate relative in the war. +Because of this, at the beginning she was looked down upon and her +situation annoyed and embarrassed her greatly. But by dint of search, +a most voluminous correspondence, and perhaps a little bit of intrigue, +she finally managed to unearth two very distant cousins, peasant boys +from the Cevennes, whom she frankly admitted never having seen, but to +whom she regularly sent packages and post cards; about whom she was at +liberty to speak without blushing, since one of them had recently been +cited for bravery and decorated with the <I>Croix de Guerre</I>. +</P> + +<P> +This good woman devotes all the leisure and energy her trade leaves +her, to current events. Of course, there is the official <I>communiqué</I> +which may well be considered as the national health bulletin; but +besides that, there is still another, quite as indispensable and fully +as interesting, made up of the criticism of local happenings, and +popular presumption. +</P> + +<P> +This second <I>communiqué</I> comes to us direct from Madame Coutant's, +where a triumvirate composed of the scissors-grinder, the +woman-who-rents-chairs-in-St.-Gervais, the sacristan's wife, the +concierge of the Girls' School, and the widow of an office boy in the +City Hall, get their heads together and dispense the news. +</P> + +<P> +The concierges and cooks while out marketing, pick it up and start it +on its rounds. +</P> + +<P> +"We are progressing North of the Marne"; "Two million Americans have +landed in France," and similar statements shall be accepted only when +elucidated, enlarged and embellished by Madame Coutant's group. Each +morning brings a fresh harvest of happenings, but each event is +certified or contradicted by a statement from some one who is "Out +there," and sees and knows. +</P> + +<P> +Under such circumstances an attack in Champagne may be viewed from a +very different angle when one hears that Bultot, the electrician, is +telephone operator in that region; that the aforesaid Bultot has +written to his wife in most ambiguous phraseology, and that she has +brought the letter to Madame Coutant's for interpretation. +</P> + +<P> +But it is more especially the local moral standards which play an +important part and are subject to censorship in Madame Coutant's +circle. The individual conduct of the entire quarter is under the most +rigid observation. Lives must be pure as crystal, homes of glass. It +were better to attempt to hide nothing. +</P> + +<P> +That Monsieur L., the retired druggist, is in sad financial straits, +there is not the slightest doubt; no one is duped by the fact that he +is trying to put on a bold face under cover of war-time economy. +</P> + +<P> +That the grocer walks with a stick and drags his leg on the ground to +make people think he is only fit for the auxiliary service, deceives no +one; his time will come, there is but to wait. +</P> + +<P> +Let a woman appear with an unaccustomed furbelow, or a family of a +workman that is earning a fat salary, eat two succulent dishes the same +week, public opinion will quickly make evident its sentiments, and +swiftly put things to rights. +</P> + +<P> +The war must be won, and each one must play his part—do his bit, no +matter how humble. The straight and narrow paths of virtue have been +prescribed and there is no better guide than the fear of mutual +criticism. That is one reason why personally I have never sought to +ignore Madame Coutant's opinion. +</P> + +<P> +It goes without saying that the good soul has attributed the +participation of the United States in this war entirely to my efforts. +And the nature of the advice that I am supposed to have given President +Wilson would make an everlasting fortune for a humourist. But in spite +of it all, I am proud to belong to them; proud of being an old resident +in their quarter. +</P> + +<P> +"Strictly serious people," was the opinion passed upon us by the +sacristan's wife for the edification of my new housemaid. +</P> + +<P> +It is a most interesting population to examine in detail, made up of +honest, skilful Parisian artisans, <I>frondeurs</I> at heart, jesting with +everything, but terribly ticklish on the point of honour. +</P> + +<P> +"They ask us to 'hold out'," exclaims the laundress of the rue de Jouy; +"as if we'd ever done anything else all our lives!" +</P> + +<P> +These people were capable of the prodigious. They have achieved the +miraculous! +</P> + +<P> +With the father gone to the front, his pay-roll evaporated, it was a +case of stop and think. Of course, there was the "Separation fee," +about twenty-five cents a day for the mother, ten cents for each child. +The French private received but thirty cents <I>a month</I> at the beginning +of the war. The outlook was anything but cheerful, the possibility of +making ends meet more than doubtful. So work it was—or rather, extra +work. Eyes were turned towards the army as a means of livelihood. +With so many millions mobilised, the necessity for shirts, underwear, +uniforms, etc., became evident. +</P> + +<P> +Three or four mothers grouped together and made application for three +or four hundred shirts. The mornings were consecrated to house work, +which must be done in spite of all, the children kept clean and the +food well prepared. But from one o'clock until midnight much might be +accomplished; and much was. +</P> + +<P> +The ordinary budget for a woman of the working class consists in +earning sufficient to feed, clothe, light and heat the family, besides +supplying the soldier husband with tobacco and a monthly parcel of +goodies. Even the children have felt the call, and after school, which +lasts from eight until four, little girls whose legs must ache from +dangling, sit patiently on chairs removing bastings, or sewing on +buttons, while their equally tiny brothers run errands, or watch to see +that the soup does not boil over. +</P> + +<P> +Then when all is done, when with all one's heart one has laboured and +paid everything and there remains just enough to send a money-order to +the <I>poilu</I>, there is still a happiness held in reserve—a delight as +keen as any one can feel in such times; i.e., the joy of knowing that +the "Separation fee" has not been touched. It is a really and truly +income; it is a dividend as sound as is the State! It has almost +become a recompense. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-118"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-118.jpg" ALT="VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME (BOMBARDED BY GERMAN SUPER CANNON, APRIL, 1918)" BORDER="2" WIDTH="369" HEIGHT="566"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 369px"> +VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME (BOMBARDED BY GERMAN SUPER CANNON, APRIL, 1918) +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +What matter now the tears, the mortal anxieties that it may have cost? +For once again, to quote the laundress of the rue de Jouy— +</P> + +<P> +"Trials? Why, we'd have had them anyway, even if there hadn't been a +war!" +</P> + +<P> +In these times of strictest economy, it would perhaps be interesting to +go deeper into the ways of those untiring thrifty ants who seem to know +how "To cut a centime in four" and extract the quintessence from a +bone. My concierge is a precious example for such a study, having +discovered a way of bleaching clothes without boiling, and numerous +recipes for reducing the high cost of living to almost nothing. +</P> + +<P> +It was in her lodge that I was first introduced to a drink made from +ash leaves, and then tasted another produced by mixing hops and +violets, both to me being equally as palatable as certain brands of +grape juice. +</P> + +<P> +Butter, that unspeakable luxury, she had replaced by a savoury mixture +of tried out fats from pork and beef kidney, seasoned with salt, +pepper, allspice, thyme and laurel, into which at cooling was stirred a +glass of milk. Not particularly palatable on bread but as a seasoning +to vegetable soup, that mighty French stand-by, I found it most +excellent. Believe me, I've tried it! +</P> + +<P> +Jam has long been prepared with honey, and for all other sweetening +purposes she used a syrup of figs that was not in the least +disagreeable. The ration of one pound of sugar per person a month, and +brown sugar at that, does not go very far. +</P> + +<P> +The cold season is the chief preoccupation of all Parisians, and until +one has spent a war winter in the capital he is incapable of realising +what can be expected from a scuttle full of coal. +</P> + +<P> +First of all, one commences by burning it for heating purposes, +rejoicing in every second of its warmth and glow. One invites one's +friends to such a gala! Naturally the coal dust has been left at the +bottom of the recipient, the sack in which it was delivered is well +shaken for stray bits, and this together with the sittings is mixed +with potter's clay and sawdust, which latter has become a most +appreciable possession in our day. The whole is then stirred together +and made into bricks or balls, which though they burn slowly, burn +surely. +</P> + +<P> +The residue of this combustible is still so precious, that when +gathered up, ground anew with paper and sawdust, and at length +amalgamated with a mucilaginous water composed of soaked flax-seed, one +finally obtains a kind of pulp that one tries vainly to make ignite, +but which obstinately refuses to do so, though examples to the contrary +have been heard of. +</P> + +<P> +The fireless cooker has opened new horizons, for, of course, there is +still enough gas to start the heating. But none but the wealthy can +afford such extravagance, so each one has invented his own model. My +concierge's husband is renowned for his ingenuity in this particular +branch, and people from the other side of the Isle St. Louis, or the +rue St. Antoine take the time to come and ask his advice. It seems to +me he can make fireless cookers out of almost anything. Antiquated +wood chests, hat boxes, and even top hats themselves have been utilised +in his constructions. +</P> + +<P> +"These are real savings-banks for heat"—he explains pompously—for he +loves to tackle the difficult—even adjectively. His shiny bald pate +is scarce covered by a Belgian fatigue cap, whose tassel bobs in the +old man's eyes, and when he carried his long treasured gold to the +bank, he refused to take its equivalent in notes. It was necessary to +have recourse to the principal cashier, who assured him that if France +needed money she would call upon him first. Then and then only would +he consent to accept. +</P> + +<P> +He is a Lorrainer—a true Frenchman, who in the midst of all the +sorrows brought on by the conflict, has known two real joys: the first +when his son was promoted and made lieutenant on the battle field; the +second when his friends the Vidalenc and the Lemots made up a quarrel +that had lasted over twelve years. +</P> + +<P> +"I was in a very embarrassing position," he explained, "for I held both +families in equal esteem. Fortunately the war came and settled +matters. When I say fortunately, of course, you understand, Madame, +what I mean. '<I>A quelquechose malheur est bon</I>.'" +</P> + +<P> +And in truth the original cause of difference between the Lemots, +drapers, and the Vidalenc, coal and wood dealers, had been lost in the +depths of time. But no hate between Montague and Capulet was ever more +bitter. The gentle flame of antipathy was constantly kept kindled by a +glance in passing, a half audible sneer, and if the Vidalenc chose the +day of the White Sale to hang out and beat their stock of coal sacks, +one might be certain that the Lemots would be seized with a fit of +cleanliness on the coldest of winter days, and would play the hose up +and down the street in the freezing air about an hour or so before the +Vidalencs would have to unload their coal wagons. +</P> + +<P> +The younger generation, on leaving school every afternoon, would also +see to it that the family feud be properly recognised, and many and +bitter were the mutual pummelings. +</P> + +<P> +Reconciliation seemed an impossibility, and yet both were hardworking, +honest families, economical and gracious, rejoicing in the friendship +of the entire quarter, who, of course, were much pained by the +situation. +</P> + +<P> +Even the mobilisation failed to bring a truce and the unforgettable +words of "Sacred Unity" fell upon arid ground. +</P> + +<P> +But how strange, mysterious and far reaching are the designs of +Providence. Young Vidalenc was put into a regiment that was brigaded +with the one to which belonged Monsieur Lemot. +</P> + +<P> +The two men met "Out there," and literally fell into each other's arms. +</P> + +<P> +A letter containing a description of this event arrived in the two +shops at almost the same moment. That is to say the postman first went +to Father Vidalenc's, but by the time the old man had found his +spectacles, Madame Lemot had received her missive, and both were +practically read at once. Then came the dash for the other's shop, the +paper waving wildly in the air. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, they met in the street, stopped short, hesitated, collapsed, +wept and embraced, to the utter amazement of the entire quarter who +feared not only that something fatal had happened, but also for their +mental safety. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the day the news got abroad, and by nightfall every one had +heard that Father Vidalenc had washed Madame Lemot's store windows, and +that Madame Lemot had promised to have an eye to Vidalenc's accounts, +which had been somewhat abandoned since the departure of his son. +</P> + +<P> +When Lemot returned on furlough there was a grand dinner given in his +honour at Vidalenc's, and when Vidalenc dined at Lemot's, it was +assuredly amusing to see the latter's children all togged out in their +Sunday best, a tri-colour bouquet in hand, waiting on their doorstep to +greet and conduct the old man. +</P> + +<P> +Unfortunately there was no daughter to give in matrimony so that they +might marry and live happily ever after. But on my last trip home I +caught a glimpse of an unknown girlish face behind Madame Lemot's +counter, and somebody told me it was her niece. +</P> + +<P> +It would not only be unfair, but a gross error on my part to attempt to +depict life in our quarter without mentioning one of the most notable +inhabitants—namely Monsieur Alexandre Clouet, taylor, so read the sign +over the door of the shop belonging to this pompous little person—who +closed that shop on August 2nd, 1914, and rallied to the colours. But +unlike the vulgar herd he did not scribble in huge chalk letters all +over the blinds—"The boss has joined the army." No, indeed, not he! +</P> + +<P> +Twenty four hours later appeared a most elaborate meticulous sign which +announced: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MONSIEUR CLOUET<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +wishes to inform his numerous<BR> +customers that he has joined the ranks<BR> +of the 169th infantry, and shall do<BR> +his duty as a Frenchman.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +His wife returned to her father's home, and it was she who pasted up +the series of neat little bulletins. First we read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MONSIEUR CLOUET<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +is in the trenches but his health is<BR> +excellent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +He begs his customers and friends<BR> +to send him news of themselves.<BR> +Postal Sector 24X.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I showed the little sign to my friends who grew to take an interest in +Monsieur Clouet's personal welfare, and passing by his shop they would +copy down the latest news and forward it to me, first at Villiers, and +afterwards to the States. +</P> + +<P> +It is thus that I learned that Monsieur Clouet, gloriously wounded, had +been cared for at a hospital in Cahors, and later on that he had +recovered, rejoined his depot and finally returned to the front. +</P> + +<P> +One of my first outings during my last trip sent me in the direction of +Monsieur Clouet's abode. I was decidedly anxious to know what had +become of him. To my surprise I found the shop open, but a huge +announcement hung just above the entrance. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MONSIEUR CLOUET<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +gloriously wounded and decorated<BR> +with the Military Medal, regrets to<BR> +state that in future it will be<BR> +impossible for him to continue giving his<BR> +personal attention to his business.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +His wife and his father-in-law will<BR> +hereafter combine their efforts to give<BR> +every satisfaction to his numerous<BR> +customers.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I entered. For the moment the wife and the father-in-law were +combining their efforts to convince a very stout, elderly gentleman +that check trousers would make him look like a sylph. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Madame, what a surprise," she cried, on seeing me. +</P> + +<P> +"But your husband?" I queried. "Is it really serious—do tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Alas, Madame, he says he'll never put his foot in the shop again. You +see he's very sensitive since he was scalped, and he's afraid somebody +might know he has to wear a wig!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + + +<P> +The Boche aeroplane was by no means a novelty to the Parisian. Its +first apparitions over the capital (1914) were greeted with curious +enthusiasm, and those who did not have a field glass handy at the time, +later on satisfied their curiosity by a visit to the Invalides, where +every known type of enemy machine was displayed in the broad court-yard. +</P> + +<P> +The first Zeppelin raid (April 15th, 1915) happened toward midnight, +and resulted in a good many casualties, due not to the bombs dropped by +the enemy, but to the number of colds and cases of pneumonia and +bronchitis caught by the pajama-clad Parisian, who rushed out half +covered, to see the sight, thoughtlessly banging his front door behind +him. +</P> + +<P> +But the first time that we were really driven to take shelter in the +cellar was after dinner at the home of a friend who lives in an +apartment house near the Avenue du Bois. We were enjoying an impromptu +concert of chamber music, when the alarm was given, swiftly followed by +distant but very distinct detonations, which made hesitation become +imprudence. +</P> + +<P> +The descent to the basement was accomplished without undue haste, or +extraordinary commotion, save for an old Portuguese lady and her +daughter who lost their heads and unconsciously gave us a comic +interlude, worthy of any first-class movie. +</P> + +<P> +Roused from her sleep, the younger woman with self preservation +uppermost in her mind, had slipped on an outer garment, grabbed the +first thing she laid her hands on, and with hair streaming over her +back, dashed down five long flights of stairs. +</P> + +<P> +At the bottom she remembered her mother, let forth an awful shriek, and +still holding her bottle of tooth wash in her hands, jumped into the +lift and started in search of her parent. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, the latter on finding her daughter's bed empty, had +started towards the lower floors, crossing the upward bound lift, which +Mademoiselle was unable to stop. +</P> + +<P> +Screams of terror, excited sentences in Portuguese—in which both gave +directions that neither followed, and for a full ten minutes mother and +daughter raced up and down in the lift and on the stairway, trying +vainly to join one another. +</P> + +<P> +A young lieutenant home on leave, at length took pity on them and +finally united the two exhausted creatures who fell into each other's +arms shrieking hysterically: +</P> + +<P> +"If we must die—let us die together!" +</P> + +<P> +The concierges and the servants began arranging chairs and camp stools +around the furnace; the different tenants introduced themselves and +their guests. Almost every one was still about when the signal was +given, and this cellar where the electric lamps burned brightly soon +took on the aspect of a drawing-room, in spite of all. One lone man, +however, stood disconsolate, literally suffocating beneath a huge +cavalry cape, hooked tight up to his throat. As the perspiration soon +began rolling from his forehead, a friend seeking to put him at his +ease, suggested he open up his cloak. +</P> + +<P> +The gentleman addressed cast a glance over the assembled group, +broadened out into a smile, and exclaimed— +</P> + +<P> +"I can't. Only got my night shirt underneath." +</P> + +<P> +The hilarity was general, and the conversation presently became bright +and sparkling with humorous anecdotes. +</P> + +<P> +The officers held their audience spellbound with fear and admiration; +the women talked hospital and dress, dress and hospital, finally +jesting about the latest restrictions. One lady told the story of a +friend who engaged a maid, on her looks and without a reference, the +which maid shortly became a menace because of her propensity for +dropping and breaking china. +</P> + +<P> +One day, drawn towards the pantry by the sound of a noise more terrible +than any yet experienced, she found the girl staring at a whole pile of +plates—ten or a dozen—which had slipped from her fingers and lay in +thousands of pieces on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The lady became indignant and scolded. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, if Madame were at the front, she'd see worse than that!" was the +consoling response. +</P> + +<P> +"But we're not at the front, I'll have you understand, and what's more +neither you nor I have ever been there, my girl." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg Madame's pardon, but my last place was in a hospital at Verdun, +as Madame will see when my papers arrive." +</P> + +<P> +General laughter was cut short by the sound of two explosions. +</P> + +<P> +"They're here. They've arrived. It will soon be over now," and like +commentaries were added. +</P> + +<P> +A servant popped the cork of a champagne bottle, and another passed +cakes and candied fruit. +</P> + +<P> +An elderly man who wore a decoration, approached the officers. +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen," said he, "excuse me for interrupting, but do any of you +know the exact depth to which an aeroplane bomb can penetrate?" +</P> + +<P> +The officers gave him a few details, which, however, did not seem to +satisfy the old fellow. His anxiety became more and more visible. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't worry, sir, if I were you. There's absolutely no danger +down here." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for your assurance, Messieurs," said he, "but I'm not in the +least anxious about my personal safety. It's my drawings and my +collection of porcelains that are causing me such concern. I thought +once that I'd box them all up and bring them down here. But you never +can tell what dampness or change of temperature might do to a water +colour or a gouache. Oh! my poor Fragonards! My poor Bouchers! +Gentlemen, never, never collect water colours or porcelains! Take it +from me!" +</P> + +<P> +At that moment the bugle sounded—"All's well," and as we were +preparing to mount the stairs, the old man accosted the officers anew, +asking them for the titles of some books on artillery and fortification. +</P> + +<P> +"That all depends to what use you wish to apply them." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, it's about protecting my collection. I simply must do something! +I can't send them to storage, they wouldn't be any safer there, and +even if they were I'd die of anxiety so far away from my precious +belongings." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-nights" were said in the vestibule, and the gathering dispersed +just as does any group of persons after a theatre or an ordinary +reception. But once in the street, it was absolutely useless to even +think of a taxi. People were pouring from every doorway, heads stuck +out of every window. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did they fall? Which way?" +</P> + +<P> +In the total obscurity, the sound of feet all hurrying in the same +direction, accompanied by shouts of recognition, even ripples of +laughter, seemed strangely gruesome, as the caravan of curious hastened +towards the scene of tragedy. +</P> + +<P> +"No crowds allowed. Step lively," called the <I>sergeants-de-ville</I>, at +their wits' end. "Better go back home, they might return. Step +lively, I say!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It happened thus the first few visits, but presently the situation +became less humorous. One began to get accustomed to it. Then one +commenced to dislike it and protest. +</P> + +<P> +Seated by the studio fire, we were both plunged deep in our books. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Allons</I>!" exclaimed H. "Do you hear the <I>pompiers</I>? The Gothas +again!" +</P> + +<P> +We stiffened up in our chairs and listened. The trumpets sounded +shrilly on the night air of our tranquil Parisian quarter. +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are. That means down we go! They might have waited until I +finished my chapter, hang them! There's no electricity in our cellar," +and I cast aside my book in disgust. +</P> + +<P> +Taking our coats and a steamer rug we prepared to descend. In the +court-yard the clatter of feet resounded. +</P> + +<P> +The cellar of our seventeenth century dwelling being extremely deep and +solidly built, was at once commandeered as refuge for one hundred +persons in case of bombardment, and we must needs share it with some +ninety odd less fortunate neighbours. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry up there. Hurry up, I say," calls a sharp nasal voice. +</P> + +<P> +That voice belonged to Monsieur Leddin, formerly a clock maker, but now +of the <I>Service Auxiliare</I>, and on whom devolved the policing of our +entire little group, simply because of his uniform. +</P> + +<P> +His observations, however, have but little effect. People come +straggling along, yawning from having been awakened in their first +sleep, and almost all of them is hugging a bundle or parcel containing +his most precious belongings. +</P> + +<P> +It is invariably an explosion which finally livens their gait, and they +hurry into the stairway. A slight jam is thus produced. +</P> + +<P> +"No pushing there! Order!" cries another stentorian voice, belonging +to Monsieur Vidalenc, the coal dealer. +</P> + +<P> +"Here! here!" echo several high pitched trebles. "<I>Très bien, très +bien</I>. Follow in line—what's the use of crowding?" +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Leddin makes another and still shriller effort, calling from +above: +</P> + +<P> +"Be calm now. Don't get excited." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's excited?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are!" +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur Leddin, you're about as fit to be a soldier as I to be an +Archbishop," sneered the butcher's wife. "You'd do better to leave us +alone and hold your peace." +</P> + +<P> +General hilarity, followed by murmurs of approval from various other +females, which completely silenced Monsieur Leddin, who never reopened +his mouth during the entire evening, so that one could not tell whether +he was nursing his offended dignity or hiding his absolute incompetence +to assume authority. +</P> + +<P> +Places were quickly found on two or three long wooden benches, and a +few chairs provided for the purpose, some persons even spreading out +blankets and camping on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The raiment displayed was the typical negligée of the Parisian working +class; a dark coloured woollen dressing gown, covered over with a shawl +or a cape, all the attire showing evidence of having been hastily +donned with no time to think of looking in the mirror. +</P> + +<P> +An old lantern and a kerosene lamp but dimly lighted the groups which +were shrouded in deep velvety shadows. +</P> + +<P> +Presently a man, a man that I had never seen before, a man with a long +emaciated face and dark pointed beard, rose in the background, holding +a blanket draped about him by flattening his thin white hand against +his breast. The whole scene seemed almost biblical, and instantly my +mind evoked Rembrandt's masterpiece—the etching called 'The Hundred +Florin Piece,' which depicts the crowds seated about the standing +figure of our Saviour and listening to His divine words. +</P> + +<P> +But the spell was quickly broken when an instant later my vision +coughed and called— +</P> + +<P> +"Josephine, did you bring down the 'Petit Parisien,' as I told you?" +</P> + +<P> +Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, and then a rather distant explosion +gave us reason to believe that the enemy planes were retiring. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Jamais de la vie</I>! No such luck to-night. Why we've got a good +couple of hours ahead of us, just like last time. You'll see! Much +better to make yourself as comfortable as possible and not lose any +sleep over it." +</P> + +<P> +The tiny babies had scarcely waked at all, and peacefully continued to +slumber on their mothers' knees, or on improvised cots made from a +blanket or comforter folded to several thicknesses. +</P> + +<P> +The women soon yawned, and leaning their backs against the wall nodded +regularly in spite of their efforts not to doze off, and each time, +surprised by the sudden shock of awakening would shudder and groan +unconsciously. +</P> + +<P> +Tightly clasped in their hands, or on the floor between their feet lay +a bag which never got beyond their reach, to which they clung as +something sacred. Certain among them were almost elegant in their grey +linen covers. Others had seen better days, while still others dated +back to the good old times of needlework tapestry. There were carpet, +kit and canvas bags, little wooden chests with leather handles, and one +poor old creature carefully harboured a card-board box tied about with +a much knotted string. +</P> + +<P> +What did they all contain? In France amid such a gathering it were +safe to make a guess. +</P> + +<P> +First of all, the spotless family papers—cherished documents +registering births, deaths and marriages. A lock of hair, a baby +tooth, innumerable faded photographs, a bundle of letters, a scrap of +paper whereon are scrawled the last words of a departed hero, and way +down underneath, neatly separated from all the rest, I feel quite sure +the little family treasure lies hidden. Yes, here is that handful of +stocks and bonds, thanks to which their concierge bows to them with +respect; those earnings that permit one to fall ill, to face old age +and death without apprehension, the assurance the children shall want +for nothing, shall have a proper education—the certitude that the two +little rooms occupied can really be called home; that the furniture so +carefully waxed and polished is one's own forever. Bah! what terrors +can lack of work, food shortage, or war hold for such people? Thus +armed can they not look the horrid spectres square in the face? The +worst will cost but one or two blue bank notes borrowed from the little +pile, but because of the comfort they have brought they will be +replaced all the more gayly when better days shall come. +</P> + +<P> +All this ran through my brain as I watched those hands—big and small, +fat and thin, young and old, clasping their treasure so tightly, and I +couldn't help feeling that gigantic convulsive gesture of thousands of +other women, who all over the great Capital at that same moment were +hugging so lovingly their little all; the fruit of so much toil and so +much virtue. +</P> + +<P> +My reflections were cut short by a deafening noise that roused my +sleeping companions. The children shrieked, and the women openly +lamented. +</P> + +<P> +"That was a close call," commented Monsieur Neu, our concierge. +</P> + +<P> +Five or six boys wanted to rush out and see where the bomb had fallen. +They were dissuaded, but with difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +An elderly man had taken his six year old grandson on to his knee, and +that sleepy little Parisian urchin actually clapped his hands and +crowed over the shock. +</P> + +<P> +"Jiminy, that was a fine one!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, my child," pompously exclaimed the grandsire. "Never, +never forget the monsters who troubled your innocent sleep with their +infamous crimes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, cut it out, grandpop," was the somewhat irreverent reply. "Aren't +you afraid you might miss forty winks?" and then turning to his mother, +"I say, mamma, if one of them lands on our house, you promise you'll +wake me up, won't you? I want to see everything, and last time and the +time before, I missed it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, darling, of course, but go to sleep, there's a good boy." +</P> + +<P> +A tall, good-looking girl over in one corner openly gave vent to her +sentiments. +</P> + +<P> +"The idiots! the idiots! if they think they can scare us that way! +They'd far better not waste their time, and let us sleep. It isn't a +bit funny any more, and I've got to work just the same to-morrow, Boche +or no Boche!" +</P> + +<P> +Two rickety old creatures clasped each other in arms, and demanded in +trembling voices if there was any real danger! This produced a ripple +of merriment. +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Duplan, the butcher, then asked the ladies' permission to +smoke, the which permission was graciously accorded. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, if I'd only thought, I'd have brought down another lamp and my +work. It's too bad to waste so much time." +</P> + +<P> +"I have my knitting. You don't need any light for that." +</P> + +<P> +"Where on earth did you get wool? How lucky you are!" +</P> + +<P> +From Monsieur Leddin's lips now rose a loud and sonorous snore. +</P> + +<P> +"Decidedly that man is possessed of all the charms," giggled a +sarcastic neighbour. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it must be a perfect paradise to live with such an angel, and to +feel that you've got him safe at home till the end of the war. I don't +wonder his poor little wife took the children and went to Burgundy." +</P> + +<P> +"Why isn't he at the front?" hissed some one in a whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—why?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are lots less healthy men than he out there. The fat old +plumber who lived on the rue de Jouy, and who can hardly breathe, was +taken——" +</P> + +<P> +"And the milkman who passed a hundred and three medical inspections and +finally had to go." +</P> + +<P> +"If you think my husband is overstrong, you're mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +"And mine, Madame, how about him?" +</P> + +<P> +Something told me that Monsieur Leddin's fate was hanging in the +balance on this eventful evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Shake him up, Monsieur Neu, he doesn't need to sleep if we can't. +We've all got to work to-morrow and he can take a nice long nap at his +desk." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, leave him alone," put in Monsieur Laurent, the stationer, who was +seated near me. "Just listen to those fiendish women. Why they're +worse than we are about the slackers. After all, I keep telling them +there must be a few, otherwise who's going to write history? And +history's got to be written, hasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most decidedly," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +And having at length found a subject of conversation that I had deigned +approve, he continued, +</P> + +<P> +"Just think of what all the poor kids in generations to come will have +to cram into their heads! The names of all the battles on all the +Fronts and the dates. It makes me dizzy! I'm glad it's not up to me. +I like history all well enough, but I'd rather make it than have to +learn it." +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Laurent did not speak lightly. He had veritably helped to +make history, having left his right foot and part of his leg "Out +there" on the hills of Verdun. +</P> + +<P> +I asked him how he was getting along since his return. +</P> + +<P> +"Better than ever! Excellent appetite—never a cold—never an ill. +I'll soon be as spry as a rabbit. Why, I used to be too heavy, I +always fell asleep after luncheon. That campaign set my blood to +rights. I'm ten years younger," he exclaimed, pounding his chest. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a good strong-box, isn't it?" and he coughed loudly to +thoroughly convince of its solidity. +</P> + +<P> +"France can still count on me! I was ready for war, and I shall be +prepared for peace." +</P> + +<P> +"Just wait till it gets here," murmured some woman. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-144"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-144.jpg" ALT="THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR" BORDER="2" WIDTH="370" HEIGHT="565"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 370px"> +THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"It'll come, it's bound to come some time," he cried, evidently +pursuing a favourite theme. "And we'll like it all the better for +having waited so long." +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Laurent has firm faith in the immediate business future. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Voilà</I>! all we've got to do is to lay Germany out flat. Even then +the economical struggle that will follow the war will be terrible," he +prophesies. "The French must come to the fore with all the resources +of their national genius. As to myself, I have my own idea on the +subject." +</P> + +<P> +We were fairly drinking in his words. +</P> + +<P> +"You've all doubtless seen the sign that I put up in my window?" +</P> + +<P> +We acquiesced. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it was that sign that opened my eyes." +</P> + +<P> +I was all attention by this time, for I distinctly remembered the above +mentioned sign. It had puzzled and amused me immensely. Painted in +brilliant letters, it ran as follows: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>EXCEPTIONAL BARGAIN:</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I> +For men having their left foot<BR> +amputated and wearing size No. 9.<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">3 shoes for the right foot—two</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">black and one tan; excellent</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">quality, almost like new.</SPAN><BR> +For sale, or exchange for shoes<BR> +belonging to the left foot. Must be<BR> +of same quality and in like condition.<BR> +</I> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"I haven't yet made any special effort to ascertain whether there are +more amputations of the left than of the right foot," continued +Monsieur Laurent; "I suppose it's about equal. Well, my plan is just +this. As soon as there's peace I'm going to set up shop on the rue St. +Antoine, or the Place de la Bastille. I'll call it 'A la botte de +l'amputé,' and I sell my shoes separately instead of in pairs. There's +a fortune in it inside of five years." +</P> + +<P> +"Just hear him raving," sighed his wife. "You know well enough, +Laurent, that just so soon as the war is over we're going to sell out, +and with the money, your pension, and what we've saved up, we'll go out +to the Parc St. Maur, buy a little cottage and settle down. I'll raise +a few chickens and some flowers, and you can go fishing in the Seine +all day long." +</P> + +<P> +"But the economical struggle?" +</P> + +<P> +"You let the economical struggle take care of itself. Now, with your +mad idea, just suppose those who had a right foot all wanted tan shoes, +and those who had a left couldn't stand anything but black? I'd like +to know where you'd be then? Stranger things than that have happened." +</P> + +<P> +Laurent gazed at his wife in admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"With all your talk about the future, it seems to me we've been down +here a long time since that last explosion." +</P> + +<P> +One woman looked for her husband but could not find him. The Rembrandt +Christhead had also disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +A tall fifteen year old lad who stood near the door informed us that +they had slipped out to see. +</P> + +<P> +"So has Germain." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you come here! Don't you dare leave me," scolded the mother. +"Can you just see something happening to him with his father out there +in the trenches?" +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Neu and two other men soon followed suit. +</P> + +<P> +The big boy who had so recently been admonished managed to crawl from +beneath his mother's gaze and make his escape. +</P> + +<P> +"If ever I catch him, he'll find out what my name is," screamed the +excited woman, dashing after him into the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Then, presently, one by one we took our way towards the hall, and the +cellar seemed empty. +</P> + +<P> +The tall boy came back to the entrance, all excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"We saw where it fell!" he panted. "There are some wounded. The +police won't let you go near. There's lots and lots of people out +there. Where's mamma?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's looking for you!" +</P> + +<P> +He was off with a bound. +</P> + +<P> +The instinct to see, to know what is going on is infinitely stronger +than that of self preservation. Many a soldier has told me that, and I +have often had occasion to prove it personally. +</P> + +<P> +Some of the women started towards the street. +</P> + +<P> +"We're only going as far as the door," said they by way of excuse. +"You're really quite safe beneath the portico." And they carried their +babies with them. +</P> + +<P> +So when the final signal of safety was sounded, there remained below +but a few old women, a couple of very small children, and Monsieur +Leddin, whom nothing seemed to disturb. +</P> + +<P> +The mothers returned to fetch their children. The old ladies and +Monsieur Leddin were aroused. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>C'est fini</I>! <I>Ah</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +And in the courtyard one could hear them calling as they dispersed. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, Madame Cocard." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night, Madame Bidon." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't forget." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"Till next time." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it, till next time." +</P> + +<P> +A young woman approached me. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame, you won't mind if I come after them to-morrow, would you?" she +begged with big wistful eyes. "The stairway is so dark and so narrow +in our house, I'm afraid something might happen to them." +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy me! you're surely not thinking of leaving your babies alone in +the cellar?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Madame, it's not my babies. Not yet," and she smiled. "It's my +bronze chimney ornaments!" +</P> + +<P> +"Your what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Madame, my chimney ornaments. A clock and a pair of +candlesticks. They're over there in that wooden box all done up +beautifully. You see Lucien and I got married after the war began. It +was all done so quickly that I didn't have any trousseau or wedding +presents. I'm earning quite a good deal now, and I don't want him to +think ill of me so I'm furnishing the house, little by little. It's a +surprise for when he comes home." +</P> + +<P> +"He's at the front?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Madame, in the hospital. He has a bad face wound. My, how it +worried him. He wanted to die, he used to be so handsome! See, here's +his photograph. He isn't too awfully ugly, is he? Anyway I don't love +him a bit less; quite the contrary, and that's one of the very reasons +why I want to fix things up—so as to prove it to him!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII +</H3> + + +<P> +The Moulin Rouge no longer turns. The strains of sounding brass and +tinkling cymbal which once issued incessantly from every open café, and +together with the street cries, the tram bells and the motor horns of +the Boulevards Exterieurs, formed a gigantic characteristic medley, +have long since died away. The night restaurants are now turned into +workrooms and popular soup kitchens. Montmartre, the heart of Paris, +as it used to be called, Montmartre the care-free, has become drawn and +wizened as a winter apple, and at present strangely resembles a little +provincial city. +</P> + +<P> +If it were true that "There is no greater sorrow than recalling happy +times when in misery," doubtless from France would rise but one long +forlorn wail. The stoic Parisian <I>poilu</I>, however, has completely +reversed such philosophy, and unmindful of the change his absence has +created, delights in the remembrance of every instant, dreams but of +the moment when he shall again be part of the light-hearted throngs who +composed the society of the Butte. Time and again I have seen heavy +army trucks lumbering down the avenue, bearing in huge chalk letters on +either side of the awning-covered sides, such inscriptions as—<I>Bon +jour, Montmartre. A bientot la Cigale—Greetings from the Front</I>—and +like nonsense, denoting not only a homesick heart, but a delicate +attention towards a well beloved. +</P> + +<P> +A few months might have made but little difference, but each succeeding +year of war has brought indelible changes. Gone forever, I fear, are +the evenings when after dinner at the Cuckoo, we would stand on the +balcony and watch the gradual fairy-like illumination of the panorama +that stretched out before us. The little restaurant has closed its +doors, but the vision from the terrace is perhaps more majestic, for as +the last golden rays of twilight disappear, a deep purple vapour rising +from the unknown, rolls forward and mysteriously envelops the <I>Ville +Lumière</I> in its sumptuous protecting folds. Alone, overhead the star +lamp of a scout plane is the only visible light. +</P> + +<P> +The old Moulin de la Galette has cast aside its city airs and taken on +a most rural aspect, while the <I>maquis</I>, or jungle on whose site a +whole new white stone quarter had been projected, is now but a mass of +half finished, abandoned foundations, wherein the children of the +entire neighbourhood gather to play at the only game which now has a +vogue, i.e., "War." +</P> + +<P> +<I>La petite guerre</I> they call it. +</P> + +<P> +We came upon them quite by accident one afternoon, and discovered two +hostile bands occupying first line trenches. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, as no one wished to be the Boche, it looked for a time as +though the campaign would have to be deferred, but so violent was the +love of fray that it was soon decided that the <I>opposite</I> side in both +cases would be considered Hun, and thus the difficulty was solved. +</P> + +<P> +It goes without saying that the school which is first dismissed +occupies the better positions. The others must rely upon their +strength and valour to win out. +</P> + +<P> +The first attack was with hand grenades in the form of pebbles. +Patrols advanced into No Man's Land, crawling and crouching until with +a yell the belligerents met. Prisoners were taken on both sides. +</P> + +<P> +"What forces have we in front of us?" demanded an important looking +twelve year old General of an enemy soldier who was brought before him. +</P> + +<P> +Dead silence ensued. +</P> + +<P> +"If he refuses to answer, turn him upside down until he does." +</P> + +<P> +The order was executed. +</P> + +<P> +From the opposite trench came shrieks of "Boche! Boche!—it's only the +Boche who maltreat prisoners." +</P> + +<P> +The aforementioned who was rapidly developing cerebral congestion, made +sign that he would speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn him right side up!" +</P> + +<P> +The young executioner obeyed, but still held a firm grip on the +unfortunate lad's collar. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, then, how many of you are there in your trenches?" +</P> + +<P> +"Enough to make jelly out of your men if there are many like you!" +shrieked the captive, struggling to escape. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him behind the lines, don't be rough with him. Respect is due +all prisoners," ordered the General, whose eye had caught a glimpse of +his army being menaced by the blond headed enemy. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out, boys! Down with your heads! They're sending over some +'coal scuttles.' Dig in I say and keep a sharp look out! What's the +matter back there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's little Michaud. He's wounded!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't cry, Michaud, go out by the connecting trench to the dressing +station. It's not far." +</P> + +<P> +The hail of "coal scuttles" having subsided, the General mounted to his +observation post. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey! Michel! Gaston! hey there, the artillery!" he yelled. "Get in +at them quick. Go to it, I say. Don't you see they're going to +attack! What's artillery for, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"We can't fire a shot. They're pounding on our munitions dump." +</P> + +<P> +"What difference does that make?" +</P> + +<P> +Under heavy fire the artillery achieved the impossible, which actually +resulted in bloodshed. But their determination was soon rewarded, for +the patent "Seventy Fives," represented by huge slabs of sod, soon +rained into the enemy trenches, sowing panic and disorder. +</P> + +<P> +Profiting by the confusion, our General grabbed up a basket and began +distributing munitions. +</P> + +<P> +"Attention! Listen to me! Don't any one fire until I give the word. +Let them approach quite close and then each one of you choose your man. +Dentu, if you're too short, stand on a stone or something!" +</P> + +<P> +The artillery wreaking havoc in his midst, the enemy decided to brusque +matters and attack. He left his trenches shouting, "<I>Vive la France! +En avant! Aux armes, mes citoyens! A bas le Boche!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +"Attention! Are you ready? Fire!" commanded our General. +</P> + +<P> +Bing! bang! a veritable tornado of over-ripe tomatoes deluged the +astonished oncomers, who hesitated an instant and then fell back. The +standard bearer having received one juicy missile full in the face, +dropped his emblem and stared wild-eyed about him. From the head and +hair of the enemy General, whose cardboard helmet had been crushed to a +pulp, streamed a disgusting reddish mess. The other unfortunate +wounded were weeping. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>En avant à la bayonette</I>! <I>Vive la France</I>! We've got them, they're +ours," shrieked the delighted commander, who owed his rank to the fact +that his parents kept a fruit stand. +</P> + +<P> +It was victory for certain, and a proudly won triumph. The mêlée was +hot and ferocious, many a patch or darn being put in store for certain +patient, all-enduring mothers. +</P> + +<P> +The dressing station was full to overflowing. Here the feminine +element reigned supreme, their heads eclipsed beneath a stolen dish +cloth, a borrowed towel, or a grimy handkerchief. And here too, little +Michaud, his pate enveloped in so many yards of bandage that he seemed +to be all turban, sat on an impromptu cot, smiling benignly while +devouring a three sou apple tart, due to the generosity of the Ladies' +Red Cross Emergency Committee, which had taken up a collection in order +to alleviate the sufferings of their dear hero. +</P> + +<P> +To be perfectly frank, almost all the supply of dressings had been +employed on Michaud's person at the very outbreak of hostilities, so, +therefore, when the stock ran short and more were needed, they were +merely unrolled from about his head. +</P> + +<P> +Leaving him to his fate, we advanced a bit in order to communicate with +one of the glorious vanquished. +</P> + +<P> +"They think they've got us," he explained, "but just you wait and see! +I know a shop on the Avenue de Clichy where you can get rotten eggs for +nothing! They don't know what's coming to them—they don't!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus for these little folks the very state of their existence is the +war. They do not talk about it because they are living it. Even those +who are so fortunate as to recall the happy times when there was no +conflict, scarcely assume a superiority over their comrades who cannot +remember that far distant epoch. +</P> + +<P> +"My papa'll be home next week on furlough if there isn't an attack," or +"Gee, how we laughed down cellar the night of the bombardment," are +common phrases, just as the words, "guns, shells, aeroplanes and gas," +form the very elements of their education. The better informed +instruct the others, and it is no uncommon occurrence to see a group of +five or six little fellows hanging around a doorway, listening to a +gratuitous lecture on the 75, given by an elder. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not true," cuts in one. "It's not that at all, the +<I>correcteur</I> and the <I>debouchoir</I> are not the same thing. Not by a +long sight! I ought to know, hadn't I, my father's chief gunner in his +battery." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, go on! Didn't Mr. Dumont who used to teach the third grade, draw +it all out for us on the blackboard the last time he was home on leave? +What do you take us for? Why he's even got the <I>Croix de Guerre</I> and +the 'Bananna.'" [1] +</P> + +<P> +Nor is the <I>communiqué</I> ignored by these budding heroes. On the +contrary, it is read and commented upon with fervour. +</P> + +<P> +In a little side street leading to the Seine, I encountered a ten year +old lad, dashing forward, brandishing the evening paper in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, kids, it's time for the <I>communiqué</I>," he called to a couple +of smaller boys who were playing on the opposite curb. The children +addressed (one may have been five, the other seven, or thereabouts) +immediately abandoned their marbles, and hastened to join their +companion, who breathlessly unfolded the sheet. +</P> + +<P> +"Artillery combats in Flanders——" he commenced. +</P> + +<P> +The little fellows opened their big candid eyes, their faces were drawn +and grave, in an intense effort of attention. Their mouths gaped +unconsciously. One felt their desire to understand, to grasp things +that were completely out of reach. +</P> + +<P> +"During the night a spirited attack with hand grenades in the region of +the Four de Paris," continued the reader. "We progressed slightly to +the East of Mort Homme, and took an element of trenches. We captured +two machine guns, and made several prisoners." +</P> + +<P> +"My papa's in Alsace," piped one listener. +</P> + +<P> +"And mine's in the Somme." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," inferred the elder. "Isn't mine at Verdun?" and +then proudly, "And machine gunner at that!" +</P> + +<P> +Then folding his paper and preparing to move on: +</P> + +<P> +"The news is good—we should worry." +</P> + +<P> +Yes, that's what the little ones understood best of all, "the news is +good," and a wonderful, broad, angelic smile spread out over their +fresh baby faces; a smile so bewitching that I couldn't resist +embracing them—much to their surprise. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-160"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-160.jpg" ALT="A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE" BORDER="2" WIDTH="371" HEIGHT="566"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 371px"> +A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"I just must kiss you," I explained, "because the news is good!" +</P> + +<P> +From one end to the other of the entire social scale the children have +this self same spirit. +</P> + +<P> +Seated at the dining-room table, a big spot of violet ink on one cheek, +I found little Jules Gauthier carefully copying something in a note +book. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing there, Jules?" +</P> + +<P> +"Writing in my book, Madame." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you writing?" +</P> + +<P> +"About the war, everything I can remember." +</P> + +<P> +At that particular moment he was inscribing an anecdote which he had +just heard some one telling in his mother's drawing room. +</P> + +<P> +"The President of the Republic once asked General de Castelnau, 'Well, +General, what shall you do after the war is over?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Weep for my sons, Mr. President.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Jules, why do you write such things?" I queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Because it's splendid, and I put down everything I know or hear that's +beautiful or splendid." +</P> + +<P> +And true enough, pêle mêle with portraits he had cut out and pasted, +plans for aeroplanes that he had drawn, were copies of extraordinary +citations for bravery, memorable dates and descriptions of battles. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the Summer of 1915, my friend Jeanne took her small baby and her +daughter Annette, aged five, to their little country home on the +seashore in Brittany. The father, over military age, remained in town +to look after some patriotic work. +</P> + +<P> +Help was hard to get, and Jeanne not over strong was torn between +household duties and her infant son, so that Annette, clad in a bathing +suit and sweater, spent most of her time on the beach in company with +other small people of her own years. +</P> + +<P> +Astonished at seeing the little one so much alone, certain kind-hearted +mothers invited her to partake of their bread, chocolate and other +dainties provided for the gouter of their own offspring, and as the +child gladly and continually accepted, her apparent abandon became a +subject of conversation, and they decided to question Annette. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is your mother, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's home, very ill." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, really. I'm so sorry, what's the trouble—nothing serious, I +hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think it must be—you see she has had her three brothers killed and +now grandpa has enlisted." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear me, how terrible! And your papa?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's in town working for the government. One of his brothers was +killed and the other is blind. Poor old grandma died of the shock." +</P> + +<P> +Moved by the lamentable plight of so young a mother, the good ladies +sought to penetrate her seclusion, offer their condolences, and help +lift the cloud of gloom. +</P> + +<P> +Imagine then their surprise at being received by my smiling, +blond-haired friend, who failed to comprehend their mournful but +astonished looks. +</P> + +<P> +At length Annette's story was brought to light, and Jeanne could but +thank them for their trouble, at the same time explaining that neither +she nor her husband had ever had brothers, and that their parents had +been dead these many years. +</P> + +<P> +"You naughty, wicked girl!" scolded Jeanne, as her tearful progeny was +led forward. "You wicked, wicked girl—what made you tell such lies?" +</P> + +<P> +The culprit twisted her hands; her whole body fairly convulsed with +restrained sobs. +</P> + +<P> +"Answer me at once! Do you hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +Annette hesitated, and then throwing herself in her mother's arms, +blurted out, "Oh, mamma, I just couldn't help it! All the others were +so proud of their <I>poilus</I>, and I haven't any one at the front; not +even a god-son!" +</P> + +<P> +It seems highly probable that children who have received such an +education will ultimately form a special generation. Poor little +things who never knew what "play" meant, at a time when life should +have been all sunshine and smiles; tender, sensitive creatures brought +up in an atmosphere of privation and tears. +</P> + +<P> +Those who were between ten and fifteen years of age at the outbreak of +the war have had a particularly hard time. +</P> + +<P> +In the smaller trades and industries, as well as on the farms, with a +father or an elder brother absent, these youngsters have been obliged +to leave school or college, and hasten to the counter or the plough. +And not only have they been called upon to furnish the helping hand, +but in times of moral stress they have often had to give proof of a +mature judgment, a courage, a will power, and a forebearance far beyond +their years. +</P> + +<P> +After a ten months' absence, when I opened up my Parisian home, I found +it necessary to change or replace certain electric lighting +arrangements. As usual I called up the Maison Bincteux. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Bien, Madame</I>, I shall send some one to look after it." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning my maid announced <I>La Maison Bincteux</I>. +</P> + +<P> +When I reached the hallway, I found the aforesaid <I>Maison</I> to be a lad +some fifteen years old, who might easily have passed for twelve, so +slight was his build. His long, pale, oval face, which seemed almost +unhealthy, was relieved by a pair of snapping blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you bring a letter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Madame, I am Monsieur Bincteux's son." +</P> + +<P> +"Then your father is coming later?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Madame, he can't, he is mechanician in the aviation corps at +Verdun. My oldest brother is in the artillery, and the second one has +just left for the front—so I quit school and am trying to help mother +continue the business." +</P> + +<P> +"How old are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I belong to the Class of 1923," came the proud reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see. Come right in then, I'll show you what I need." +</P> + +<P> +With a most serious and important air he produced a note book, tapped +on the partitions, sounded the walls, took measures and jotted down a +few lines. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, Madame, I've seen all that's necessary. I'll be back +to-morrow morning with a workman." +</P> + +<P> +True to his word he appeared the next day, accompanied by a decrepit, +coughing, asthmatic specimen of humanity, who was hardly worthy of the +honorable title his employer had seen fit to confer. +</P> + +<P> +Our studio is extremely high, and when it was necessary to stretch out +and raise our double extension ladder, it seemed as though disaster +were imminent. +</P> + +<P> +We offered our assistance, but from the glance he launched us, I felt +quite certain that we had mortally offended the manager of the <I>Maison +Bincteux</I>. He stiffened every muscle, gave a supreme effort, and up +went the ladder. Truly his will power, his intelligence and his +activity were remarkable. +</P> + +<P> +After surveying the undertaking, he made his calculations, and then +addressing his aid: +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to bore here," he said. "The wires will go through there, +to the left and we'll put the switches to the right, just above; go +ahead with the work and I'll be back in a couple of hours." +</P> + +<P> +The old man mumbled something disobliging. +</P> + +<P> +"Do what I tell you and don't make any fuss about it. You're better +off here than in the trenches, aren't you? We've heard enough from +you, old slacker." +</P> + +<P> +The idea that any one dare insinuate that he ought to be at the front +at his age, fairly suffocated the aid electrician, who broke into a fit +of coughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame, Madame," he gasped. "In the trenches? Why I'm seventy-three. +I've worked for his father and grandfather before him—but I've never +seen his like! Why only this very morning he was grumbling because I +didn't ride a bicycle so we could get to places faster!" +</P> + +<P> +At noon the <I>Maison Bincteux</I> reappeared, accompanied by the General +Agent of the Electric Company. He discussed matters in detail with +this awe inspiring person—objected, retaliated, and finally terminated +his affairs, leaving us a few moments later, having accomplished the +best and most rapid job of its kind I have ever seen. +</P> + +<P> +With the Class of 1919 now behind the lines, by the time this volume +goes to press, there is little doubt but that the class of 1920 shall +have been called to the colours. All these lads are the little fellows +we used to know in short trousers; the rascals who not so many summers +since climbed to the house-tops, swung from trees, fell into the river, +dropped torpedoes to frighten the horses or who when punished and +locked in their rooms, would jump out the window and escape. +</P> + +<P> +Then, there were those others, "the good boys," whose collars and socks +were always immaculate, romantic little natures that would kiss your +hand with so much ceremony and politeness, blushing if one addressed +them affectionately, spending whole days at a time lost in fantastic +reveries. +</P> + +<P> +To us they hardly seem men. And yet they are already soldiers, +prepared to make the supreme sacrifice, well knowing from father, +brothers or friends who have gone before, all the grandeur and +abnegation through which their souls must pass to attain but an +uncertain end. +</P> + +<P> +Any number of what we would call mere children have been so imbued with +the spirit of sacrifice, that they have joined the army long before +their Class was called. Madame de Martel's grandson, the sons of +Monsieur Barthou, Louis Morin, Pierre Mille, to mention but a few in +thousands, all fell on the Field of Honour before attaining their +eighteenth year. +</P> + +<P> +And each family will tell you the same pathetic tale: +</P> + +<P> +"We tried to interest him in his work—we provided all kinds of +amusements; did everything to keep him here; all to no avail. There +was just one thought uppermost in his mind—Enlist—Serve. He was all +we had!" +</P> + +<P> +Little Jacques Krauss promised his mother he would not go until he had +won his baccalaureate, and my friend lived in the hope that all would +be over by the time the "baby" had succeeded. But, lo! the baby, +unknown to his parents, worked nights, skipped a year, passed his +examination, and left for the front, aged seventeen years and three +months! He had kept his word. What could they do? +</P> + +<P> +In another household—my friends the G's., where two elder sons have +already been killed, there remained as sole heir, a pale, lanky youth +of sixteen. +</P> + +<P> +With the news of his brothers' death the flame of vengeance kindled, +and then began a regime of overfeeding, physical exercises, and medical +supervision, that would have made many a stouter heart quail. +</P> + +<P> +Every week the family is present when the chest measure is taken. +</P> + +<P> +"Just one more centimetre, and you'll be fit!" exclaims the +enthusiastic father, while on the lashes of the smiling mother form two +bright tears which trickle unheeded down her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +There reigns a supernatural enthusiasm among all these youths; an +almost sacred fire burns in their eyes, their speech is pondered but +passionate. They are so glad, so proud to go. They know but one +fear—that of arriving too late. +</P> + +<P> +"We don't want to belong to the Class that didn't fight." +</P> + +<P> +And with it all they are so childlike and so simple—these heroes. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon, in a tea room near the Bon Marché, I noticed a soldier +in an obscure corner, who, his back turned to us, was finishing with +vigorous appetite, a plate of fancy cakes and pastry. (There was still +pastry in those days—1917.) +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" thought I. "I'm glad to see some one who loves cakes enjoying +himself!" +</P> + +<P> +The plate emptied, he waited a few minutes. Then presently he called +the attendant. +</P> + +<P> +She leaned over, listened to his whispered order, smiled and +disappeared. A moment later she returned bearing a second well laden +dish. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before these cakes too had gone the way of their +predecessors. +</P> + +<P> +I lingered a while anxious to see the face of this robust sweet tooth, +whose appetite had so delighted me. +</P> + +<P> +He poured out and swallowed a last cup of tea, paid his bill and rose, +displaying as he turned about a pink and white beardless countenance, +that might have belonged to a boy of fifteen—suddenly grown to a man +during an attack of measles. On his breast was the <I>Medaille +Militaire</I>, and the <I>Croix de Guerre</I>, with three palms. +</P> + +<P> +This mere infant must have jumped from his school to an aeroplane. At +any rate, I feel quite certain that he never before had been allowed +out alone with sufficient funds to gratify his youthful passion for +sweetmeats and, therefore, profiting by this first occasion, had +indulged himself to the limit. Can you blame him? +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] The "Bananna"—slang for the Medaille Militaire—probably on +account of the green and yellow ribbon on which it hangs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII +</H3> + + +<P> +To go from Le Mans to Falaise, from Falaise to St. Lo; from St. Lo to +Morlaix, and thence to Poitiers would seem very easy on the map, and +with a motor, in times gone by it was a really royal itinerary, so +vastly different and picturesque are the various regions crossed. But +now that gasolene is handed out by the spoonful even to sanitary +formations, it would be just as easy for the civilian to procure a +white elephant as to dream of purchasing sufficient "gas" to make such +a trip. +</P> + +<P> +There is nothing to do but take the train, and that means of locomotion +not only requires time, but patience and considerable good humour. +Railway service in France has been decidedly reduced, and while +travelling is permitted only to those persons who must needs do so, the +number of plausible motives alleged has greatly augmented, with the +result that trains are crowded to the extreme limit. To tell the +truth, a good third of the population is always moving. For how on +earth is one to prevent the parents of a wounded hero from crossing the +entire country to see him, or deny them the right to visit a lad at his +training camp? +</P> + +<P> +This then accounts for the appearance of the Breton peasant's +beribboned hat and embroidered waistcoat on the promenades of the +Riviera, the Arlesian bonnet in the depths of Normandy, the Pyrenese +cap in Lorraine. +</P> + +<P> +All this heterogeneous crowd forms a long line in front of the ticket +office, each one encumbered with a basket or a bag, a carpetsack or a +bundle containing patés and sausages, pastry and pickles, every known +local dainty which will recall the native village to the dear one so +far away. +</P> + +<P> +It is thus that from Argentan to Caën I found myself seated between a +stout motherly person from Auvergne, and a little dark man from whose +direction was wafted so strong an odour of garlic that I had no +difficulty discerning from what region he hailed. Next to him were a +bourgeois couple whose mourning attire, red eyes and swollen faces +bespoke plainly enough the bereavement they had just suffered. Silent, +indifferent to everything and everybody, their hands spread out on +their knees, they stared into the ghastly emptiness, vainly seeking +consolation for their shattered dream, their grief-trammelled souls. +</P> + +<P> +A heavily built couple of Norman farmers occupied the seats on either +side of the door, and then came a tall young girl and her mother, a +Belgian soldier, and finally a strange old creature wearing an +antiquated starched bonnet, a flowered shawl, and carrying an umbrella +such as one sees but in engravings illustrating the modes and customs +of the eighteenth century. She was literally buried beneath a +monumental basket which she insisted upon holding on her knees. +</P> + +<P> +Every available inch of floor space was covered with crocks and kits +full of provisions, and in the rack above our heads were so many boxes +and bundles, bags and bales, remaining aloft by such remarkable laws of +equilibrium that I feared lest any moment they fall upon our heads, and +once this catastrophe occurred there seemed to be little hope of +extricating oneself from beneath the ruins. +</P> + +<P> +The conversation was opened by the Norman farmer who offered to relieve +the little old woman of her basket and set it safely between his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Oh, non merci</I>," she piped in a thin little wavering treble, and an +inimitable accent which made it impossible to guess her origin. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Monsieur, thank you," she continued. "It's full of cream +tarts and cherry tarts, and custard pies made right in our own home. +I'm taking them to my boy, and as we stayed up very late to make them +so that they would be quite fresh, I should hate to have any of them +crushed or broken. He did love them so when he was little!" +</P> + +<P> +"Our son was just the same. As soon as he was able to eat he begged +them to let him have some <I>brioche</I>. But his fever was too high when +we got there, and he couldn't take a thing. 'That doesn't matter,' he +said to his mother. 'Just the sight of them makes my mouth water, and +I feel better already.'" +</P> + +<P> +My Provençal neighbour could no longer resist. His natural +loquaciousness got the better of his reserve. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the first thing my son asked for was olives, so I brought him +enough to last, as well as some sausage which he used to relish. Oh, +if only I could bring him a little bit of our blue sky, I'm sure he +would recover twice as quickly." +</P> + +<P> +The mother of the young girl now sat forward and asked the Norman +farmer's wife where and how her son had been wounded. +</P> + +<P> +"He had a splinter of shell in his left thigh. He'd been through the +whole campaign without a scratch or a day of illness." +</P> + +<P> +The woman's eyes sparkled with pride and tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +The short man beside me, who informed me he was a native of Beaucaire +on the Rhone, had one son wounded and being cared for in a hospital at +Caën, a second prisoner in Germany, and two sons-in-law already killed. +</P> + +<P> +According to a letter which the dear old flowered shawl spelled out to +us word by word, her grandson had been wounded in seven different +places, and had had one hand and one leg amputated. But he hastened to +add that he was not worrying a bit about it. +</P> + +<P> +The young girl's mother had one son in the ranks, and a second, aged +seventeen, had enlisted and was about to leave for the front. She and +her daughter were on their way to embrace him for the last time. +</P> + +<P> +The Belgian soldier was just getting about after an attack of typhoid +fever, and the motherly person on my left was travelling towards her +husband, a territorial of ripe years whose long nights of vigil beneath +bridges and in the mud of the Somme had brought him down with +inflammatory rheumatism. Their son, they prayed, was prisoner—having +been reported missing since the 30th of August, 1914. This coarse, +heavy featured woman of the working classes, cherished her offspring +much as a lioness does her young. She told us she had written to the +President of the Republic, to her Congressman, her Senator, to the King +of Spain, the Norwegian Ambassador, to the Colonel of the Regiment, as +well as to all the friends of her son on whose address she had been +able to lay hand; and she would keep right on writing until she +obtained some result, some information. She could not, would not, +admit that her boy was lost; and scarcely stopping to take breath she +would ramble on at length, telling of her hopes and her disappointments +to which all the compartment listened religiously while slowly the +train rolled along through the smiling, undulating Norman country. +</P> + +<P> +Each one did what he could to buoy up the mother's hopes. +</P> + +<P> +The little Southerner seemed to possess a countless number of stories +about prisoners, and he presently proceeded to go into minute detail +about the parcels he sent to his own son, explaining the regulation as +to contents, measures and weights, with so much volubility that the +good soul already saw herself preparing a package to be forwarded to +her long lost darling. +</P> + +<P> +"You can just believe that he'll never want for anything—if clothes +and food will do him any good. There's nothing on earth he can't have +if only we can find him, if only he comes back to us." +</P> + +<P> +And growing bolder as she felt the wealth of sympathy surrounding her, +she looked over and addressed the woman in mourning, who at that moment +smiled gently at her. +</P> + +<P> +"We thought we knew how much we loved them, didn't we, Madame? But +we'd never have realised how really deep it was if it hadn't been for +this war, would we?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman continued to smile sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"More than likely you've got somebody in it too," persisted the stout +Auvergnate, whose voice suddenly became very gentle and trembled a +trifle. +</P> + +<P> +"I <I>had</I> three sons. We have just buried the last one this morning." +</P> + +<P> +All the faces dropped and a ghastly silence fell upon the group. Each +one looked straight into the distance ahead of him, but the bond of +sympathy was drawn still tighter, and in the moment of stillness that +ensued I felt that all of us were communing with Sorrow. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Between Folligny and Lamballe, we were quite as closely huddled between +three soldiers on furlough, a stout old priest, a travelling salesman, +and a short gentleman with a pointed beard, a pair of eyeglasses and an +upturned nose. +</P> + +<P> +At one moment our train halted and waited an incredible length of time +vainly whistling for the tower-man to lift the signal which impeded our +progress. +</P> + +<P> +The travelling salesman who was cross and weary finally left his seat, +grumbling audibly. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll never in the world get there on time. It's certain I shall miss +my connection! What a rotten road! What management!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the war," murmered the priest pulling out a red checked +handkerchief in which he buried his nose. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to look far to see that," responded the other, still +grumbling. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's plain enough for us all right. Those who are handling +government jobs are the only fellows who don't know it, I should say." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah! each of us has his troubles—each of us has his Cross to bear," +murmured the Father by way of conciliation, casting his eyes around the +compartment, much as he would have done upon the faithful assembled to +hear him hold forth. +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh! it's you priests who are the cause of all the trouble. It was +you who preached and got the three year service law voted." +</P> + +<P> +The poor Curate was fairly suffocated with surprise and indignation. +He was so ruffled he could hardly find a word. In the meantime the +travelling salesman taking advantage of his silence, continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it was you and the financiers, and it's nothing to brag about +either!" +</P> + +<P> +The man with the upturned nose now wheeled about sharply. His blood +was up and he strangely resembled a little bantam cockerel. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," he snapped, and his voice was clear and cutting, "if any +one had a right to express a complaint on any subject whatsoever, it +would certainly be the soldiers who are seated in this compartment. +Now as they have said nothing, I cannot admit that you, a civilian, +should take such liberties." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Monsieur——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Monsieur, that's exactly what I mean, and as to the sentiments to +which you have given voice they are as stupid as they are odious. We +all know now that war was inevitable. The Germans have been preparing +it for forty years." +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur!" +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur!" +</P> + +<P> +The two glared fixedly at each other for an instant; the one was very +red, the other extremely pale. Then they turned about and resumed +their places in each corner. The priest produced his breviary, the +soldiers finished a light repast composed of bread and cheese. +</P> + +<P> +They were all three peasants, easily discernible from the way they +slowly chewed and swallowed, or caught up a crumb of cheese on the +point of their knives. They had sat silent and listened to the +outbursts without turning an eyelash. Then presently one of them +lifted his head and addressing his companions in a deep bass voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said he, "this makes almost two days now that we've been on the +way!" +</P> + +<P> +"What have you got to kick about?" retaliated the other, shutting his +knife and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're as well +off here as you were in the trenches of Bois Le Pretre, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +The third one said nothing, but recommenced carving a cane which he had +abandoned for an instant, and which he was terminating with more +patience than art, though the accomplishment of his task seemed to give +him infinite pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +As the commercial traveller had predicted, we were hours late and in +consequence missed our connection, but the platform of a station where +two lines meet, offers, under such circumstances, so diverse and +diverting a spectacle that we hardly regretted the delay. It is here +that any one interested in physiognomy can best study and judge the +masses, for it is as though the very texture from which France is woven +were laid bare before him. This spectacle is constantly changing, +constantly renewed, at times deeply moving. No face can be, or is, +indifferent, in these days and one no longer feels himself a detached +individual observer; one becomes an atom of the crowd, sharing the +anxiety of certain women that one knows are on their way to a hospital +and who half mad with impatience are clutching the fatal telegram in +one hand, while with the fingers of the other they thrum on one cheek +or nervously catch at a button or ornament of their clothing. +</P> + +<P> +Or again one may participate in the hilarious joy of the men on +furlough, who having discovered the pump, stand stripped to the waist, +making a most meticulous toilet, all the while teasing a fat, +bald-headed chap to whom they continuously pass their pocket combs with +audible instructions to be sure to put his part on the left side. +</P> + +<P> +The waiting-rooms literally overflow with soldiers—some stretched out +on the benches, some on the floor; certain lying on their faces, others +on their backs, and still others pillowing their heads on their +knapsacks. +</P> + +<P> +One feels their overpowering weariness, their leaden sleep after so +many nights of vigil; their absolute relaxation after so many +consecutive days in which all the vital forces have been stretched to +the breaking point. +</P> + +<P> +From time to time an employé opens the door and shouts the departure of +a train. The soldiers rouse themselves, accustomed to being thus +disturbed in the midst of their slumber. One or two get up, stare +about them, collect their belongings and start for the platform, +noiselessly stepping over their sleeping companions. At the same time +newcomers, creeping in behind them, sink down into the places which +they have just forsaken, while they are still warm. +</P> + +<P> +On a number of baggage trucks ten or a dozen Moroccan soldiers have +seated themselves, crosslegged, and draped in their noble burnous, they +gently puff smoke into the air, without a movement, without a gesture, +without a sound, apparently utterly oblivious to the noisy employés, or +the thundering of the passing trains. +</P> + +<P> +On the platform people walk up and down, up and down; certain among +them taking a marked interest in the old-fashioned, wheezing +locomotives which seem fairly to stagger beneath the long train of +antiquated coaches hitched behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Here, of course, are to be found the traditional groups in evidence at +every station; a handful of people in deep mourning on their way to a +funeral; a little knot of Sisters of Charity, huddled together in an +obscure corner reciting their rosary; families of refugees whom the +tempest has driven from their homes—whole tribes dragging with them +their old people and their children who moan and weep incessantly. +Their servants loaded down with relics saved from the disaster in +heavy, clumsy, ill-tied bundles, are infinitely pitiable to behold. +They are all travelling straight ahead of them with no determined end +in view. They seem to have been on the way so long, and yet they are +in no haste to arrive. Hunger gnawing them, they produce their +provisions, and having seated themselves on their luggage, commence a +repast, eating most slowly, the better to kill time while waiting for a +train that refuses to put in an appearance. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>buffet</I> is so full of noise, smoke and various other odours, that +having opened the door one hesitates before entering. There is a long +counter where everything is sold; bread, wine, cider, beer and +lemonade; sandwiches, patés, fruit and sweetmeats. One makes his +choice and pays in consequence. At the side tables the civilians are +lost mid the mass of blue uniforms. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-188"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-188.jpg" ALT="MONSIEUR AMÉDÉ" BORDER="2" WIDTH="372" HEIGHT="564"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 372px"> +MONSIEUR AMÉDÉ +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +This is a station in Normandy, and for the boys of this region nothing +can substitute a good big bowl of hot vegetable soup, seasoned with the +famous <I>graisse normande</I> and poured over thin slices of bread, the +whole topped off with a glass of cider or "pure juice" as they call it. +It is a joy to see them seated about the board, their elbows on the +table, their heads bent forward over the steaming bowl, whose savoury +perfume as it rises to their nostrils seems to carry with it a +veritable ecstasy, if one were to judge by the beatific expression on +every countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"That goes right to the spot, doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +From another table a voice responds: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, fellows, it's better than a kick in the shins, every time!" +</P> + +<P> +The last mouthful gone, the cider bottles empty, they tighten the +straps of their kit bags and rise regretfully from their seats. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Allez</I>. Off again, boys! <I>C'est la guerre</I>!" and they shuffle away +humming and filling their pipes. +</P> + +<P> +From the direction of the <I>buvette</I>, or bar comes noisy laughter +followed by oaths. The uncertain voice of a seemingly intoxicated +individual dominates all others. Yet nothing but soft drinks are sold. +</P> + +<P> +"As the Colonel of the 243rd used to say," it continues, "'Soldiers of +my regiment, repose upon your arms!' My arms are the bottle! My +bottle and my wife are the only things worth while when I'm on +furlough. I——" +</P> + +<P> +His voice disappeared an instant, dimmed by the rising tumult. Then +suddenly it broke forth anew— +</P> + +<P> +"Attention! Present arms, here comes a coal scuttle. Now +then,—flatten out on the back of your stomach!" +</P> + +<P> +An instant later the man appeared at the threshold of the dining room. +</P> + +<P> +He was a heavily built, big jointed, husky Norman farmer-soldier, with +his helmet pulled down low over his eyes, so that the upper part of his +face was completely hidden from view. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he pushed it far back on his head, and casting a sweeping +glance over the assembled diners, he called forth in stentorian tones +that made every one turn around: +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" +</P> + +<P> +The cashier behind the counter, who evidently foresaw trouble, called +out to him in shrill tones: +</P> + +<P> +"You've made a mistake, go back to the <I>buvette</I>. You've nothing to do +out here!" +</P> + +<P> +Removing his helmet, the gallant knight made the lady a sweeping bow. +</P> + +<P> +"Your servant, Madame. Your humble servant," he continued. "Cyprien +Fremont, called Cyp for short." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear what I said? Now then, take yourself off," cried the +ungracious adored one. +</P> + +<P> +But the <I>poilu</I> was not to be so silenced. +</P> + +<P> +Putting his hand to his heart and addressing the assembly: +</P> + +<P> +"Ungrateful country!" he cried, "is it thus that you receive your sons +who shed their blood for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, but go and tell it elsewhere. Go on, I say!" +</P> + +<P> +"I've only got one more word to say and then it will be over." +</P> + +<P> +But before he could utter that word his companions seized him and +dragged him back from whence he came. As he disappeared from view, we +heard him announce his intention of "doing some stunts"—which offer +was apparently joyously accepted, followed by more laughter and several +"dares." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the most terrific noise of falling and breaking glass and +china brought every one to his feet. Excited voices could be heard +from the direction in which Cyprien had vanished. The army police +dashed in, followed by the station master and all the employés. A +lengthy discussion was begun, and having finished our dinner we left +matters to adjust themselves and sauntered forth onto the platform. +</P> + +<P> +Here we found our Cyprien surrounded by his companions, who were busy +disinfecting and binding up the wounds that he had received when the +china cabinet had collapsed upon him. One of the men poured the +tincture of iodine onto a hand held fast by a friend. Two others were +rolling a bandage about his head, while the patient, far from subdued, +waved the only free but much enveloped hand that he possessed, beating +time to the air that he was literally shouting and in whose rather bald +verse the station master's wife was accused of the grossest infidelity. +</P> + +<P> +"Shh! Cyprien," his friends enjoined; "shut up a bit, can't you?" +</P> + +<P> +But it was no easy thing to impose silence upon Cyprien when he had +made up his mind to manifest a thought or an opinion. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll get us all into trouble, old man, see if you don't. Cut it +out, won't you? See, here comes an officer." +</P> + +<P> +The officer approached them. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not his fault, sir," began one of the fellows, before his +superior had time to ask a question. "I assure you, it's not his +fault. He's just back from Saloniki—his first furlough in a year, +sir. It must have gone to his head. I swear he hasn't had anything +but cider to drink, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"But that's no excuse for making all this noise. Show me his military +book!" +</P> + +<P> +The officer took it, ran through the pages, and then approached Cyprien. +</P> + +<P> +At the sight of the gold braid Cyprien stood up and saluted. +</P> + +<P> +"Before you went to Saloniki, I see you fought at Verdun." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"And at Beausejour?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"And Vauquois?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The eyes of the two veterans met; the officer's glance seeking to +pierce that of the soldier in front of him. Then suddenly, in an +irresistible burst of sympathy and respect, he thrust out his hand and +caught up one of Cyprien's bandaged pair. +</P> + +<P> +"I was there, too," was all he said. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly sobered, our hero straightened up and literally crushed his +superior's fingers in his mighty fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Come with me," said the officer; "I know a place where you can rest +until it's time to leave. And you boys here," said he turning towards +them, "you'll see to it that he doesn't miss his train." +</P> + +<P> +Night, inky black, fathomless night, had now settled about us. In the +distance one could just discern the red and green signal lamps—at +closer range the burning tip of a cigar or cigarette. The soldiers +turned up their collars. The wind shifting to the north was piercing +cold. One had to walk briskly up and down to avoid becoming chilled. +Way at the other end of the platform the flare of fugitive matches +revealed shadows moving about as though searching for something upon +the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you looking for?" +</P> + +<P> +"A third-class return ticket for Royan. That old lady over there has +lost hers." +</P> + +<P> +We turned about to see a poor old wrinkled soul, in her native Norman +costume, wringing her hands in distress. +</P> + +<P> +"What a misfortune! Oh dear, oh dear, what a misfortune! What will +become of me now? What shall I do?" +</P> + +<P> +And to each inquisitive newcomer she babbled forth her story of a +wounded grandson whom she was on her way to visit. The curate and +another man of her village had seen to her expenses. They had +purchased her ticket and handed it to her with strict instructions not +to lose it. For safety's sake she had knotted it in the corner of her +handkerchief—and now it wasn't there! +</P> + +<P> +The inquirer then examined her handkerchief, made her stand up and +shake her clothing, turn her pockets inside out, empty her baskets and +her handbag; and still not willing to trust the thoroughness of his +predecessors he would begin looking all over the immediate vicinity, +match in hand. So presently nearly two hundred men, forgetting their +soreness and fatigue, were down on their knees scouring every nook and +cranny. The sleepers were awakened, the drinkers routed out and put to +work, scanning every inch of ground. +</P> + +<P> +A loud and persistent ringing of an electric bell sounded on the air. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey there, fellows!" called a tall Zouave. "Get together, the train +is announced, and since we can't find grandma's ticket we can't leave +the old girl alone in the dark, so come on, chip in—we'll make it up +to her. She says it cost forty-two francs and ten centimes. Are you +ready?" +</P> + +<P> +And removing his helmet he started to make the rounds. In an instant +coppers and silver rang in the steel recipient. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop! that's enough." +</P> + +<P> +They retired to count. +</P> + +<P> +"Chic—there's some left over!" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, she'll buy something for the kid with it." +</P> + +<P> +Some one purchased the ticket. +</P> + +<P> +"There now, grandma, a new ticket and enough to buy your boy a cake +with, so you should worry! But as you're too young to travel alone, +we're going to take you in with us. We just happen to be going your +way. Here Ballut, Langlois! Quick there—take her baskets. Now then, +don't let go my arm—here comes the train. Sh! don't cry, there's +nothing to bawl about, we're all good fellows—all of us got grandmas +who'd make just as big fools of themselves if they had to travel." +</P> + +<P> +And with infinite care and tenderness a dozen hands hoisted their +precious burden into the dimly lighted wooden-benched compartment. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, travelling in France under such circumstances is to me more +interesting than ever, for when it is not one's fellow passengers who +hold the attention, there are always those thousand and one outside +incidents which the eye retains involuntarily. War factories and +munition plants sprung from the ground as though by magic; immense +training camps in course of construction, aviation fields over which so +cleverly hover those gigantic, graceful war birds, who on catching +sight of the train fly low and delight the astonished passengers by +throwing them a greeting, or, challenging the engineer, enter into a +race. +</P> + +<P> +But above all, there is the natural panorama; that marvellous +succession of hills and vales, hamlets and rivers, fields and gardens, +so wonderfully harmonious beneath the pearl tinted sky. How it all +charms and thrills, and how near the surface is one's emotion on +hearing a soldier voice exclaim: +</P> + +<P> +"What a country to die for!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +So the hours sped by, and at length we reached our destination. P—— +is a flourishing little city, perched on the side of a rocky hill, with +a broad landscape spreading out at its feet. +</P> + +<P> +The best hotel is called "L'hotel des Hommes Illustres"—and its façade +is adorned with the statues of the above mentioned gentlemen carved in +stone. The proprietor, who built the edifice and paid the bill, having +been sole judge in the choice of celebrities, the result is as +astonishing as it is eclectic, and though absolutely devoid of beauty, +thoroughly imposing. +</P> + +<P> +We arrived before our luggage, which was conveyed by so old and puffy a +horse that we considered it criminal not to leave our cab and finish +the hill on foot. At the top of a monumental staircase we entered the +hotel office, behind whose desk were enthroned two persons of most +serious aspect; the one, stout and florid of complexion with a long +nose and an allure worthy of Louis XIV, proudly bore upon her head such +an extraordinary quantity of blond hair arranged in so complicated a +fashion that I trembled to think of the time required to dress it. The +other, sallow faced, with a long curved chin, might have been taken for +a Spanish Infanta, pickled in vinegar and allspice. +</P> + +<P> +The formality of greetings accomplished, princess number one produced a +book in which we were to sign our names. The dignity and importance +she attached to this ceremony would certainly not have been misplaced +in a Grand Chamberlain preparing the official register for the +signature of Peace preliminaries. +</P> + +<P> +This, together with the manner in which she took note of our names, +drying them with a spoonful of gold sand, gave me the illusion that I +had just performed some important rite. +</P> + +<P> +"One or two rooms?" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"One big room, Madame." +</P> + +<P> +"With or without bath?" demanded the co-adjutor, whose voice possessed +a contralto quality utterly out of keeping with her pale blond hair and +complexion. +</P> + +<P> +"With bath, please." +</P> + +<P> +A new register was opened. Both bent over it closely, each showing the +other a different paragraph with her fore finger. Finally they +murmured a few inaudible syllables and then shook their heads. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you prefer number six or number fourteen?" finally asked the +Infanta. +</P> + +<P> +We looked at each other in astonishment, neither being superstitious +about numbers, but it would have been painful to announce to these +ladies that the matter was totally indifferent to us. They had been so +condescending as to allow us a choice. +</P> + +<P> +"Number six has a balcony and two windows. Number fourteen has one +window and a bathroom," the princess informed us. +</P> + +<P> +"But," continued the Infanta, "it is our duty to inform you that hot +water has been forbidden by the municipal authorities, and that cold +water is limited to two pitchers per person, per room." +</P> + +<P> +I said I would take number six, which arrangement terminated the +ladies' mental indecision, and seemed to please them greatly. They +smiled benignly upon us. +</P> + +<P> +The smaller one, whom I have called the coadjutor, because her throne +was less elevated than the princess', put her finger on a button and a +violent ringing broke the silence of the vast hallway. No one answered. +</P> + +<P> +Three times she repeated the rings, with an imperious movement. +</P> + +<P> +"Be kind enough to go and call Monsieur Amédé, Mademoiselle Laure." +</P> + +<P> +On her feet, Mademoiselle Laure was even smaller than when seated. She +crossed the vestibule, opened a door, and her strong voice resounded +along an empty corridor from which issued the odour of boiling +cauliflower. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur Amédé!" she shouted anew, but not even an echo responded. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle Laure, ask for the head waiter." +</P> + +<P> +Mademoiselle Laure recrossed the vestibule and opening a door +diametrically opposed to the other, called: +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur Balthazard!" +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Balthazard appeared, his shirt sleeves rolled up beyond his +elbow, wiping his hands on a blue gingham apron. He was a little slim +man who may have been sixty years old. A glass eye gave him a +sardonic, comic or astonished air, according to the way he used his +good one, which was constantly moving, at the same time that it was +clear and piercing. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur Balthazard—what an attire for a head waiter!" +</P> + +<P> +"Madame, I was just rinsing the wine barrels." +</P> + +<P> +"And how about the errands for the people in rooms twenty-four and +twenty-seven." +</P> + +<P> +A noise at the hall door attracted our attention. It was as though +some one were making desperate and fruitless attempts to open it. +</P> + +<P> +"There he is now," exclaimed Monsieur Balthazard. "I'll go and let him +in. He's probably got his hands full." +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Amédé, literally swamped beneath his bundles, staggered into +the vestibule. To the different errands confided to his charge by the +hotel's guests had undoubtedly been added the cook's list, for an +enormous cabbage and a bunch of leeks completely hid his face, which +was uncovered only as he let them fall to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +When he had finally deposited his treasures, we discovered a small lad +about fourteen or fifteen years of age, dressed in a bellboy's uniform +which had been made for some one far more corpulent of stature. The +sleeves reached far down over his hands, the tight fitting, gold +buttoned jacket strangely resembled a cross between a bag and an +overcoat, and though a serious reef had been taken in the trousers at +the waist line, the legs would twist and sway—at times being almost as +ample as those worn by the Turkish sultanas. +</P> + +<P> +Our coachman now arrived with our luggage. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur Amédé, take this luggage and accompany Monsieur and Madame to +number six." +</P> + +<P> +The child gathered up his new burden and started upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +We followed, helping him pick up the various objects which successively +escaped his grasp. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness, it seems to me you're awfully young to be doing such heavy +work!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said he, wiping his brow, "I'm very lucky. My mother is cook +here, and Monsieur Balthazard is my uncle. With old fat Julia, the +maid, and Mathilde, the linen woman, we're all that's left. All the +men have gone to war, and the women into the powder mills. We keep the +hotel going, we do." +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Amédé was full of good will, and a desire to help me all he +could. He explained to us that he was now building the solid +foundation of a future whose glories he hardly dare think, so numerous +and unfathomable did they seem. Unfortunately, however, we were +obliged to note that he seemed little gifted for the various +occupations to which he had consecrated his youth—and his glorious +future—for in less than five minutes he had dropped a heavy valise on +my toes, and upset an ink-well, whose contents dripped not only onto +the carpet but onto one of my new bags. In trying to repair damages, +Monsieur Amédé spoiled my motor veil and got several large spots on the +immaculate counterpane, after which he bowed himself out, wiping his +hands on the back of his jacket, assuring us that there was no harm +done, that no one would scold us, nor think of asking us for damages. +</P> + +<P> +We saw him again at dinner time, when disguised as a waiter he passed +the different dishes, spilling sauce down people's necks, tripping on +his apron and scattering the handsome pyramids of fruit hither and yon. +Lastly he took a plunge while carrying out an over-loaded tray, but +before any one could reach him he was on his feet, bright and smiling, +exclaiming: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hurt. No harm done. I'll just sweep it up. It won't stain." +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime quiet, skilful Uncle Balthazard strained every nerve in +a herculean effort to keep his temper and serve thirty persons all at +once. +</P> + +<P> +It was touching to hear the old man murmur, "Gently, boy—go gently," +as his youthful protégé stumbled from one blunder to another. "Go +gently, you can be so clever when you're not in a hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Amédé almost caused us to miss the train next evening in spite +of the numerous warnings from the princess behind the desk, who had +arranged the hour of our departure. That brilliant young man who had +been sent ahead with our luggage was nowhere to be found when our train +was announced. My husband, a woman porter, a soldier on furlough who +knew him, started out to scour the immediate surroundings of the +station, finally locating him in a backyard near the freight depot, his +hands in his pockets, excitedly following a game of nine-pins at which +a group of convalescent African soldiers was playing. +</P> + +<P> +Of course he immediately explained that there was no harm done since +the train was twenty minutes late, and when finally it arrived and he +handed our baggage into the compartment, he accidentally let slip a +little wooden box containing an old Sevres vase, which I had purchased +at an antiquity dealer's that very morning. +</P> + +<P> +He picked it up, exclaiming: +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky it's not fragile." +</P> + +<P> +And lifting his cap, on whose visor one might read "Hotel des Homines +Illustres," he cheerfully wished us a <I>Bon voyage</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX +</H3> + + +<P> +Before the war it used to be Aunt Rose's victoria that met us at the +station; a victoria drawn by a shiny span and driven by pompous old +Joseph, the coachman, clad in a dark green, gold-buttoned livery and +wearing a cockade on his hat. Aunt Rose's coachman, and the Swiss at +Notre Dame were classed among the curiosities of the city, as could be +attested by the numerous persons who hastened to their doorstep to see +the brilliant equipage pass by. +</P> + +<P> +But this time we found the victoria relegated beside the old "Berline" +which Aunt Rose's great-grandmother had used to make a journey to +Italy; the horses had been sent out to the farm, where they were +needed, and Joseph, fallen from the glory of his box, attired in a +striped alpaca vest, and wearing a straw hat, half civilian, half +servant, seemed a decidedly puffy old man, much aged since our last +visit. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur and Madame will be obliged to take the omnibus. Will +Monsieur kindly give me the baggage check?" +</P> + +<P> +Then as I fumbled in my purse— +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur and Madame will find many changes, I fear." +</P> + +<P> +But in spite of his prophecy to us there seemed little difference. The +rickety old omnibus rattled and bumped noisily over the pointed cobble +pavements, the tiny city merely seemed asleep behind its drawn blinds +and its closed shutters. At the corner of the square in front of the +château the old vegetable vendor still sold her products seated beneath +her patched red cotton parasol; the Great Dane watchdog lay in exactly +the same place on the tinker's doorstep. Around the high church tower +the crows circled and cawed as usual, while the bell of its clock +which, as we passed, slowly struck three, was echoed by the distant +hills with the same familiar sound. +</P> + +<P> +The omnibus deposited us at the entrance to the big roomy edifice which +Aunt Rose called "home." +</P> + +<P> +The broad façade, evenly pierced by its eighteen long French windows, +had a genial, inviting appearance, while the soft rose colour of the +bricks, the white stone trimming, the iron balconies, mingled here and +there with bas-reliefs and sculptures, were in perfect harmony with the +tall slanting slate roof and majestic chimneys, the whole forming one +of those delightful ensembles constructed by local architects during +the 17th century for the pleasure and comfort of a large French +bourgeois family. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Rose herself, leaning upon an ivory-headed cane, but bright eyed +and alert as ever, awaited us at the top of the steps. From her we +soon learned that we had missed our friends the M.'s by but a day, and +that little André, son of our cousins in Flers, had announced his visit +for the following Monday. +</P> + +<P> +At this point Friquet, her old Pomeranian favourite, crept down from +his cushion and approached us. +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't bark any more, so you know he must be getting old," smiled +Aunt Rose, caressing her pet. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor Victoire is getting on, too, I fear. Her nephew is stone +blind since the battle of the Marne. Joseph has lost two of his +grandsons; of course, he didn't tell you—he doesn't want any one to +speak of it—but he's very much upset by it. Nicholas and Armandine do +nothing but worry about their poor little Pierre, who hasn't given a +sign of life for three months now—so I fear you will have to be very +patient and very indulgent guests." +</P> + +<P> +The delightful old lady led us to our room, "the psyche room" we, the +youngsters, used to call it on account of the charming grisaille wall +paper, dating from the end of the Empire period, and representing in +somewhat stiff but none the less enchanting manner the amorous +adventures of that goddess. +</P> + +<P> +I have always had a secret feeling that many a time, urged by her +confessor, Madame de C. had been upon the point of obliterating or +removing those extremely chaste nude images. But at the last moment +rose up the horror of voluntarily changing anything in the homestead, +transforming a whole room that she always had known thus, and perhaps +the unavowed fear of our ridicule and reproach, had made her renounce +her project. +</P> + +<P> +"Brush up quickly, and come right down to tea. We've got so many +things to talk over. You've so much to tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +So a quarter of an hour later, tea-cup in hand, we must needs go into +the details of our trips, inform her of our hopes and fears, tell of +all the different things we had seen—what America was going to +do—what it had already accomplished. And with her marvellously quick +understanding, her vivacious intelligence, the old lady classified the +facts and the anecdotes, asked us to repeat dates and numbers, that she +might the better retain them in her splendid memory. +</P> + +<P> +All through dinner and the long evening she plied us with questions, +kept the conversation running along the same lines, returning now and +then to a certain theme, or certain figures, and asking us to go into +even more detail. +</P> + +<P> +"I know I'm an abominable old egoist," at length she apologised. "But +you'd forgive me if only you realised how much happiness your stories +will bring, and to how many people. I imagine that you haven't had +much time for correspondence with our family—but that's all an old +woman like myself is good for these days." +</P> + +<P> +"Our family" consisted in relationship to the 'nth degree of all the +H's, de C's, B's and F's that were then in existence, some of them such +distant cousins that Aunt Rose herself would never have recognised them +had they met. And besides these people there were her friends, her +servants, her farmers, possibly a group of three hundred persons with +whom the good soul corresponded, giving news of the ones to the others, +announcing misfortunes or joys—a living link between us all. +</P> + +<P> +Left a widow when still quite young, Aunt Rose had lived with and +respected the memory of her husband. Though she had had many an offer, +she had never cared to remarry. But unable to stand the damp climate +of Normandy, she had returned to her family homestead in this little +city of the Bourbonnais, in whose suburbs she possessed quite a fortune +in farm lands. Alone in the world, with no immediate family, she had +devoted herself not only to her own, but to her husband's relatives. +Her home had always been the <I>havre de grace</I>, known and venerated by +them all; a meeting place for reconciliation between persons whose +self-control had escaped them; the shelter for prodigal and repentant +sons who awaited the forgiveness of their justly wrathful sires; the +comforting haven that seemed to assuage the pangs of departure and +bereavement. But above all it was the one spot for properly +celebrating family anniversaries, announcing engagements, and spending +joyous vacations. +</P> + +<P> +The war had been the cause of a great deal of hard work in this respect. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I receive more letters than a State functionary," Aunt Rose +informed me when I came upon her early the next morning, already +installed behind her huge flat-topped desk, her tortoise-shell +spectacles tipped down towards the end of her very prominent nose. +</P> + +<P> +"For nearly four years I've been writing on the average of twenty +letters a day and I never seem to catch up with my correspondence. +Why, I need a secretary just to sort out and classify it. You haven't +an idea the different places that I hear from. See, here are your +letters from the United States. Léon is in the Indo-Chinese Bank in +Oceania. Albert is mobilised at Laos, Quentin in Morocco. Jean-Paul +and Marcel are fighting at Saloniki; Emilien in Italy. Marie is +Superior in a convent at Madrid; Madeline, Sister of Charity at Cairo. +You see I've a world-wide correspondence. +</P> + +<P> +"Look," she continued, opening a deep drawer in one side of her desk, +"here are the letters from my <I>poilus</I> and, of course, these are only +the answered ones. The dear boys just love to write and not one of +them misses a week without doing so. I'm going to keep them all. +Their children may love to have them some day." +</P> + +<P> +Then she opened a smaller drawer, and my eye fell upon a dozen or +fifteen packages, all different in size and each one enveloped in white +tissue paper, carefully tied about with grey silk ribbon. +</P> + +<P> +"These were written by our dear departed," she said simply. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant they passed before my eyes, those "dear departed." Big, +tall William, so gay and so childish, he who used to play the ogre or +the horse, or anything one wished: a person so absolutely indispensable +to their games that all the little folk used to gather beneath his +window early in the morning, crying in chorus: "Uncle William! Uncle +William! do wake up and come down and play!" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-214"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-214.jpg" ALT="FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUÉ IN A LITTLE FRENCH CITY" BORDER="2" WIDTH="374" HEIGHT="566"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 374px"> +FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUÉ IN A LITTLE FRENCH CITY +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Jean-François, the engineer; Philippe, the architect; Honoré, whom we +dubbed "Deshonoré," because he used always to return empty-handed when +we went hunting together. Gone, gone forever! +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Rose picked up one of the smaller packages. +</P> + +<P> +"These were from little Jacques." And two bright tears trembled on her +lashes. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember him, of course, my dear. He was an orphan, he never knew +his mother. I always supposed that is what made him so distant and +reserved. Jean, his guardian, who is very severe, used to treat him as +he did his own children—scolding him often about his indolence, his +lack of application to his studies. +</P> + +<P> +"I used to have him here with me during his vacations. He loved this +old house—and I knew it. Sometimes when you would all start out for +some excursion I'd see him coming back towards the gate: +</P> + +<P> +"'You're not going with them then, Jacques?' +</P> + +<P> +"'No, thank you, Aunt Rose, it's so nice in your drawing-room.' +</P> + +<P> +"When he was just a little baby I often wanted to take him onto my lap +and laugh and play with him. But he was so cold and distant! A funny +little mite, even with boys of his own age. Nobody seemed to +understand him exactly; certain people even thought that his was a +surly nature. +</P> + +<P> +"He spent his last furlough here, and I found quite a change in him. +He was more robust and tanned. A splendid looking fellow, and I was so +proud of him. +</P> + +<P> +"'Aunt Rose,' he asked even before we embraced, 'is there any one else +stopping with you?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Why no, child, and I'm afraid you'll find the house very empty. If +only I'd known you were coming I most certainly should have invited +your cousins.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh, I'm so glad you didn't! I much prefer being alone with you.' +</P> + +<P> +"He came and went in the house, but never could be persuaded to go +outside the yard. I should have loved to have taken him with me and +shown his War Cross to some of my old friends. But he wouldn't hear of +it. +</P> + +<P> +"'Pooh!' he would laugh when I would suggest such a thing. 'If ever +they come near me I'll tell them I've got "trench pest"—and then +you'll see them clear out.' +</P> + +<P> +"He went down in the kitchen and I'd hear him pottering around. I +never knew him so gay and happy. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tante Rose, I'm going to sing you "La Madelon" and the "Refrain de la +Mitraille." It was Planchet, the tinsmith, who composed it!' +</P> + +<P> +"He'd sit for hours in that big blue armchair, blinking at the fire, +and then suddenly he'd come to earth and explain: +</P> + +<P> +"'Aunt Rose, what a pleasure to be here.' +</P> + +<P> +"When finally he had to go back, he caught me and whispered in my ear, +as I kissed him: +</P> + +<P> +"'Next time, Tante, you promise me not to invite any one, won't you?' +</P> + +<P> +"Poor child, he will never come back, and his friend Planchet, the +tinsmith, saw him fall with a bullet through his heart. It was he who +wrote me the sad news. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear, what mystery the soul hides within itself! In one of +the cupboards of the room he occupied I found two note books and a +diary filled with verses he had never shown to any one, never admitted +having written. How little we guessed what he was about when we +scolded him for his indolence and inattention. If you only knew what +accents, what harmonious phrases he found to depict the shades of our +trees, the rippling of the river, the perfume of the flowers and his +love for us all. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a whole chapter devoted to the old homestead. He seemed to +feel everything, divine everything, explain everything. None of us +understood him. There is no use pretending we did. Not one among us +would ever have guessed that so splendid and delicate a master of the +pen lived and moved amongst us." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Rose looked straight out onto the sun-lit court, the great tears +trickling down her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time neither of us spoke. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Like its mistress, Aunt Rose's home lives to serve the war. The +culinary realm is always busily engaged preparing <I>patés</I> and +<I>galantines</I>, <I>rillettes</I> and sausages. "For our boys," is the answer +almost before the question is put. "They're so glad to get home-made +dainties, and are always clamouring for more—no matter how much you +send! +</P> + +<P> +"Since they must eat preserved food, we might as well send them +something we make ourselves, then we're sure it's the best. Why, I'd +be ashamed to go out and buy something and send it off without knowing +who had handled it." This was the cook's idea of patriotism, which I +shared most heartily, having at one time had nothing but "bully beef" +and dried beans as constant diet for nearly a fortnight. +</P> + +<P> +The coachman and inside man sealed the crocks and tins, prepared and +forwarded the packages. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there's one for everybody! Even the boys of the city who haven't +got a family to look after them. They must be mighty glad Madame's +alive. We put in one or two post cards, views of the town. That +cheers them up and makes them feel they're not forgotten here in R——." +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon on descending into the kitchen we beheld two sturdy +looking fellows seated at table and eating with ravenous appetite. One +was an artilleryman who had but a single arm, the other a <I>chasseur</I>, +whose much bandaged leg was reposing upon a stool. +</P> + +<P> +"They are wounded men on convalescent leave," explained Armandine. +"The poor fellows need a little humouring so that they'll build up the +quicker, and an extra meal surely can't hurt!" +</P> + +<P> +This was certainly the opinion of the two invalids who had just +disposed of a most generous bacon omelet, and were about to dig into a +jar of <I>paté</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Armandine and Nicholas watched them eat with evident admiration, fairly +drinking up their words when between mouthsful they would stop for +breath and deign to speak. Their rustic eloquence was like magic balm +poured onto a constantly burning, ulcerated sore. +</P> + +<P> +"Your son? Why, of course, he'll turn up!" the artilleryman assured +them. +</P> + +<P> +"But he hasn't written a line!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's nothing. Now just suppose that correspondence is forbidden in +his sector for the time being." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, but it's three months since we heard from him. We've written +everywhere, to all the authorities, and never get any returns—except +now and then a card saying that they're giving the matter their +attention. That's an awfully bad sign, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all, not at all," chimed in the <I>chasseur</I>. "Why, some of the +missing have been found in other regiments, or even in the depots, and +nobody knows how they got there. +</P> + +<P> +"Three months? Why, that's not long. After the battle of the Marne my +poor old mother had them say Heaven knows how many masses for the +repose of my soul; for four months and three days she never heard a +thing of me, and I'd written her regularly every week. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and what are you going to do if the letter carrier gets killed, +or the Boche locate the mail waggon on the road every other delivery? +Nobody's going to inform you of the accident." +</P> + +<P> +"And that does happen often?" +</P> + +<P> +"Almost every day." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite a common occurrence; there's nothing for you to worry about yet, +really now." +</P> + +<P> +So "hope springs eternal" in the breasts of the bereaved parents, whose +smile gradually broadens out into a laugh when the artillery-man +recounts some grotesque tale, and gives his joyous nature free rein. +</P> + +<P> +The convalescents who came to this particular city must have +recuperated in the minimum of time, if <I>régime</I> had anything to do with +the re-establishment. In every house the cloth was always on the +table, the door open in sign of welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in and have a bite with us," people would call to them as they +passed by. +</P> + +<P> +Certain among them were being treated for severe cases and had been in +the city a long time. The townspeople were proud of their progress and +their cure, almost as proud as of their notary, who on leaving for the +front was only a second lieutenant, but now had command of a battalion +of <I>chasseurs</I>. Nor must one forget Monsieur de P.'s son, cited for +bravery among the aces, and least of all ignore Monsieur Dubois, who +having lost both sons, shut up his house, settled his business and +without telling any one went off and enlisted as a simple private at +sixty-two years of age. +</P> + +<P> +In coming to this distant little city I had sought to find repose for +my somewhat shattered nerves; dared hope for complete rest beneath this +hospitable, sympathetic roof. But the war was everywhere. Yes, far +from the sound of the guns one's eyes are spared the spectacles of +horror and desolation, but there is not a soul who for a single instant +really escapes the gigantic shiver that has crept over all the world. +Out here, far removed from the seat of events, life necessarily becomes +serious and mournful. The seemingly interminable hours lend themselves +most propitiously to reflections, foster distress and misgivings, and +one therefore feels all the more keenly the absence of the dear ones, +the emptiness due to the lack of news. +</P> + +<P> +There are but two moments when real excitement ripples the apparent +calm of the little city; one in the morning when the paper boy +announcing his approach by blowing his brass horn, runs from door to +door distributing the dailies, while people rush forth and wait their +turns impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +The evening <I>communiqué</I> arrives at 8 P. M. An old white-haired +postman pastes it upon the bulletin board outside the post office. +Long before the hour one can hear steps echoing on the pavement, as +men, women and children, old people on crutches, cripples leaning on +their nurses' arms, hasten in the same direction, moved by the same +anxious curiosity. When the weather is inclement one turns up his +trousers, or removes her best skirt. It is no uncommon sight to see +women in woollen petticoats with a handkerchief knotted about their +heads standing there umbrella in hand, patiently awaiting the news. +</P> + +<P> +A line forms and each one passes in front of the little square piece of +paper, whose portent may be so exhilarating or tragic. Then some one +clears his throat, and to save time reads the bulletin for the benefit +of the assembled group. +</P> + +<P> +Here again the strategists are in evidence. +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Paquet, the jeweller, having served his three years some three +decades ago at Rheims, has a wonderfully lucid way of explaining all +the operations that may be made in that region, while Monsieur Morin, +the grocer, whose wife comes from Amiens, yields the palm to no one +when that sector is mentioned. +</P> + +<P> +Each one of these gentlemen has a special view on the subject, each +favours a special mode of combat, and each, of course, has his +following among the townspeople. But the masses give them little heed. +</P> + +<P> +Monsieur Paquet's persistent optimism or Monsieur Morin's equally +systematic pessimism do not touch them in the least. The French soul +has long since known how to resist emotions. Sinister rumours shake it +no more than do insane hopes and desires. +</P> + +<P> +"All we know is that there's a war," exclaimed a sturdy housewife +summing up her impressions, "and we've got to have victory so it will +stop!" +</P> + +<P> +"Amen," laughs an impudent street gamin. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the crowd disperses, and presently when the gathering is +considerably diminished a group steps forward, presses around the +bulletin board and comments on the <I>communiqué</I> in an incomprehensible +tongue. +</P> + +<P> +By their round, open faces, their blond hair and that unspeakable air +of honesty and calm resolution, one instantly recognises the Belgians. +Yes, the Belgians, come here in 1914, the Belgians who have taken up +their abode, working anywhere and everywhere, with an incomparable +good-will and energy. But they have never taken root, patiently +waiting for the day when once again they may pull out their heavy drays +that brought them down here, whose axles they have never ceased to +grease, just as they have always kept their magnificent horses shod and +ready to harness, that at a moment's notice old women and children may +be hoisted into the straw and the whole caravan thread its way +northward towards the native village; that village of which they have +never ceased to talk, about which they tell the youngsters, who +scarcely remember it now. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Madame," exclaimed one poor old soul in a phrase that might have +seemed comic if it hadn't been so infinitely profound and touching. +"Ah, Madame, even if there isn't anything left, it will be our village +just the same!" +</P> + +<P> +Alas! I know but too well the fate of such villages at the front, +occupied by the enemy, crushed beneath his iron heel, or subjected to +his gun fire. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X +</H3> + + +<P> +It was Aunt Rose's custom to spend one week out of every four at her +country seat. With the war had come the shortage of labour, and now +that her head man had been mobilised it was necessary for some one to +take direct control, superintend and manage these valuable farm lands +which must do their share towards national support. +</P> + +<P> +It needed no urging to persuade us to accompany her. +</P> + +<P> +"My farmers haven't the time to make the trip to town individually, so +I get a list of their wants and my coming saves them so much trouble." +</P> + +<P> +So early one morning a big break was driven up to the door, and in less +than five minutes it was so full of bundles and packages that I had my +doubts as to our all fitting in, not to mention the word "comfortably." +And when finally we did jog away it took every effort of the broad +backed dray horse, who had been sent from the farm, to pull us up the +long sunny hills, so frequent in this region. +</P> + +<P> +The village which would be our ultimate destination was twelve miles +from any station, and the nearest railway a funny little two-foot-gauge +road, whose locomotives were comic to behold, their vociferous attempts +at whistling not even frightening the baby calves who stood and stared +at them indifferently as they passed. Furthermore, the line was no +longer in public service, save on market days at Le Donjon. +</P> + +<P> +Our route lay through an admirable, undulating country which seemed to +be totally deserted, for not even a stray dog crossed our path. Far in +the distance, however, from time to time one might hear the throb of a +motor. +</P> + +<P> +"They are winnowing almost everywhere today," explained Aunt Rose, +"taking advantage of the good weather. We shall doubtless find every +one very busy at Neuilly." +</P> + +<P> +The thrashing machine had been set up on the public square, and all +along the last mile before entering the village we met great loads of +wheat and oats, drawn by huge white oxen, who in turn were led by what +seemed to me to be very small boys. The latter, stick in hand, walked +in front of their beasts, and swelling their youthful voices would +intone a kind of litany which the animals apparently understood and +obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +The brilliant noonday sun shone down and bathed everything in gold. +</P> + +<P> +In the shadow of the little church the engine, attended by two +white-bearded men, churned along, from time to time sending forth a +shrill whistle. Women with bandana handkerchiefs tied down closely +about their heads, unloaded the carts, and lifting the heavy sheaves in +their brawny arms, would carry them to the machine, where others, +relieving them, would spread them out and guide them into the aperture. +</P> + +<P> +Two handsome girls that might have served as models for goddesses +stood, pitch-fork in hand, removing the chaff. The breeze blowing +through it would catch the wisps and send them dancing in the air, +while the great generous streams of golden grain flowing from the +machine seemed like rivers of moulten metal. +</P> + +<P> +The children and tiny babies lay tucked away in the straw, sound asleep +beneath a giant elm that shaded one corner of the square. Now and +again a woman would leave her companions and wiping the perspiration +from her brow, approach this humble cradle, lift her infant in her +arms, and seeking a secluded spot, give it suckle. +</P> + +<P> +I cannot tell how long I stood watching this wonderful rustic +spectacle, so rich in tone and colouring, so magnificent in its +simplicity, so harmonious in movement. There was no undue noise—every +motion seemed regulated, the work accomplished without haste but with +an impressive thoroughness. Here then was the very source of the +country's vitality. Elsewhere the war might crush and destroy lives, +cities and possessions, but this was the bubbling spring-head from +whence gushed forth, unrestrained, the generative forces; stronger than +war, stronger than death, life defiantly persistent. And I was seized +with an immense pride, an unlimited admiration for these noble, simple +women of France who had had the courage to set forth such a challenge! +</P> + +<P> +For it is the women who have done it, of that there can be no doubt. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-230"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-230.jpg" ALT="MAXENCE" BORDER="2" WIDTH="370" HEIGHT="563"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 370px"> +MAXENCE +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The census indicates that in 1914 the total number of inhabitants +within this little village was seven hundred and fifty. Of these, one +hundred and forty men were mobilised, and forty-five have already been +killed. The masculine element, therefore, has been reduced to a +minimum. +</P> + +<P> +Thevenet, the carpenter, grocery man and choir leader, gifted with a +strong voice and a shock of curly black hair, but lame in both legs, is +certainly, when seated behind his counter, the noblest specimen of the +stronger sex that the village possesses. +</P> + +<P> +His pupil, disciple and companion, called Criquet, is, as his pseudonym +indicates, extremely small of stature, and though he regularly presents +himself before the draft boards, he has invariably been refused as far +too small to serve his country in the ranks. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, there are quite a number of sturdy old men, who have had +ample occasion to do their bit by helping their daughters or their +sons' wives on their farms. So in the village itself there remains +hardly any one. +</P> + +<P> +Old man Magnier is so bent with rheumatism that each movement is +accompanied by an alarming cracking of his bones, and one is tempted to +ask him not to stir for fear of suddenly seeing him drop to pieces, as +would an antiquated, over-dry grandfather clock, on being removed from +a long stay in the garret. +</P> + +<P> +Monsiau, the inn-keeper, is ready and willing to do almost anything but +he is so terribly stout that the slightest physical effort causes him +to turn purple and gasp for breath. He therefore remains seated, +nodding like a big Buddha, half dozing over the harangues of his friend +Chavignon, the tailor, whose first name, by the way, is Pacifique. But +in order to belie this little war-like appellation, Chavignon spends +most of the time he owes to the trade dreaming of impossible plans and +preparing ghastly tortures, to which the Kaiser shall be submitted when +once we have caught him. +</P> + +<P> +Bonnet, the hardware dealer, in spite of his seventy-eight years, comes +and goes at a lively pace—coughing, grumbling, mumbling—always in a +hurry, though he never has anything special to attend to. +</P> + +<P> +And finally there is Laigut; Laigut whom one consults when at his wits' +end, simply because he knows everything in general, and nothing in +particular, his knowledge covering all the arts and sciences as resumed +in the Grand Encyclopedia. He is a little man with spectacles, and a +short grey beard, costumed winter and summer alike in the same suit of +worn brown velvet, a rabbit skin cap on his head, his feet shoved into +wooden sabots. +</P> + +<P> +His reputation before the war was not what one would call spotless. +His passion for fowl (other people's on principle) had led to his being +strongly suspected. He was a poacher, as well, always ready to bring +you the hare or the pike you needed, at a fixed date and hour, more +especially when the shooting and fishing seasons were closed. +</P> + +<P> +His was one of those hidden geniuses which the war had revealed. +Otherwise we should never on earth have suspected him of being so +capable. But be it requested that he repair a sewing machine, a +bicycle or a watch; sharpen a pair of scissors, put in a pane of glass, +make over mattresses, shear a horse, a dog or a human, paint a sign, +cover an umbrella, kill a pig or treat a sprain, Laigut never +hesitates, Laigut is always found competent. Add to this his commerce +in seeds and herbs, his talent for destroying snakes and trapping +moles, the fact that he is municipal bell ringer and choir boy, and you +will have but a feeble idea of the activities of this man whose field +seems so unlimited. +</P> + +<P> +In a little old shed behind his house he carefully stores the +innumerable and diverse objects which are confided to his care, and +contrary to what one might suppose, he bears no malice for the lack of +esteem bestowed upon him in times gone by. Not at all. His breadth of +character is equalled only by the diversity of his gifts. From time to +time a fowl may still disappear, but none save <I>Maître Renard</I> is now +accused. In these days there are so many foxes about! +</P> + +<P> +If I may seem to have gone deep into detail concerning these people it +is only because I am anxious to make better understood what life means +in a village without men. That is to say without valid men who care +for the cattle, steer the plough, keep the furrows of equal depth and +straight as a die; rake, hoe and sow; reap, harvest and carry the heavy +burdens, in fact, perform all the hard, fatiguing labour that the +upkeep of the soil requires. +</P> + +<P> +And yet, in spite of their absence, not a foot of ground has been +neglected. The cattle are robust and well cared for, the harvests +reaped and brought to cover, the taxes and the rents have been paid, +and down under the piles of linen in those big oak cupboards lie many +blue bank notes, or several bonds of the National Defense. And France +has crossed the threshold of her fifth year of war. +</P> + +<P> +To whom is this due? The women. +</P> + +<P> +There were no training schools to teach them how to sow or reap—no +kindly advisors to take the husbands' places and tell them what animals +to keep and feed, at what time to sell, or at what price. They had to +learn from hard experience, taxing their intuition and great common +sense to the utmost. +</P> + +<P> +And with it all they are so shy and modest; at heart a little bit +ashamed when you speak to them in terms of admiration for what they +have done. +</P> + +<P> +"We didn't really know what to do at the end of that first year when we +found there wasn't any one to take care of the ground," explained Julie +Laisné, who lives just behind Aunt Rose. +</P> + +<P> +"I would have tried to plough, been glad to do it, but I was afraid the +others would make fun of me," said Anna Troussière. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just the way I felt about it," exclaimed Julie. "I nearly went +crazy when I knew time was flying, winter coming, and no wheat in. +I've no doubt it was the same with all the others. Then one day the +news ran round like lightning that Anna was out ploughing her fields, +with her kid and her grandfather to help her. Nobody took the time to +go and see if it was true. Each one got out her plough. Of course, +the first furrows were not very straight, but soon we got used to it, +and Lord, how we laughed over my first attempts, when my husband came +home the next fall on furlough." +</P> + +<P> +I wish that some great master of the pen might paint in words as simple +as the Golden Legend, in stanzas as pure as the Litanies of the Holy +Virgin, the picture of this little Julie, up and about with the first +rays of dawn, always hard at work, and whom when night has closed in I +have often come upon, bending over beneath her tallow candle, writing +to the dear one at the front. To this task as to all the others she +concentrates her every effort and attention, anxious that no news be +forgotten,—news which is as fresh and naïve as the events and the +nature that inspires it. "The sow has had twelve little pigs, the +donkey has a nail in its hoof, little Michel has a cold, and butter now +sells for forty-three sous the pound." +</P> + +<P> +Her farm is too small and brings in too little for her to dream of +taking on some one to help. But she keeps three cows, and three +calves; a dozen or two pigs, a donkey and all the chickens she can +afford to feed. Forty acres is quite a responsibility for so small a +person, and it requires lots of courage to replace the missing muscle, +to till the soil, care for the kitchen garden and the animals, and send +three small children off to school on time, all of them washed and +combed, without a hole in their stockings or a spot on their aprons. +It needs something more than courage to be able to sing and dissimulate +one's anxieties, to hide in one corner of that envelope that will be +opened by him "Out there," a little favourite flower, tenderly cared +for, nursed to maturity. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" she laughs as I sympathise. "It might be bad if one were all +alone in his troubles. But we're all in the same boat, down here!" +</P> + +<P> +Yes, all of them have done their duty—more than their duty, the +impossible. In other villages it is just the same—in other Provinces. +From one end to the other of France such marvels have been accomplished +that the government decided that so much devotion merited recompense. +</P> + +<P> +So one fine morning a motor was seen to stop in front of the Café +Lacroix, a gentleman in uniform (some say it was the Préfet) +accompanied by two other men, got down and walked over to the town hall +that is near the church. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments later Criquet was dispatched on bicycle to Anna +Troussière's and Claudine Charpin's, with orders to bring them back +with him. +</P> + +<P> +He soon returned accompanied by the two frightened creatures, who +fearing ill news had not unrolled their sleeves nor removed the +handkerchief from their heads, but jumped on their bicycles and +hastened to the town hall. +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly the gentleman in uniform appeared on the steps, made them +a little speech, and stepping down pinned a medal on their heaving +breasts. He thrust a diploma which bore their names into their +trembling fingers, shook hands with them most cordially, and mounting +in his car, drove away in a cloud of dust. +</P> + +<P> +Every one, much excited, gathered around the two women. The medals +were handed about, commented upon. +</P> + +<P> +"Beautiful," exclaimed Criquet who is something of a wag. "I think +they're made of bronze. Too bad they're not chocolate so you might +give us all some." +</P> + +<P> +"Claudine," said Anna Troussière, "it's time we went home if we don't +want to be teased to death. Goodness, if only we'd known, we might +have brushed up a bit!" +</P> + +<P> +But the incident did not end there. The government, anxious to show +its gratitude, offered to send them help, in the shape of war +prisoners. The proposition was tempting. A bourgeois who had several +big farms said he would accept four. This almost caused a revolution. +The four Germans were quartered in a shed and an old territorial +mounted guard over them. +</P> + +<P> +"They were good fellows," Julie explained when she told me the story. +"Hard workers too. Very kind to the animals and understanding +everything about a farm. I don't know—I used to have a funny feeling +when I saw them. But, poor souls, I don't suppose they wanted the war, +they'd probably have much rather been home and yet they were as +obliging as could be. Always ready to lend a hand when there was a +hard job to be tackled. +</P> + +<P> +"They made rather a good impression, and two or three of our women +farmers had almost decided to send for some. Well, this lasted until +the next Sunday. As they were all catholics, of course they came to +church, and were seated on the first bench, with their sentinel at the +end. Everything went finely until the Curate got up to preach, first +reading the announcements for the week. When he asked that prayers be +said for Jules Lefoulon and Paul Dupont, both from our parish and both +killed on the Field of Honour, and we looked up we could see the four +Boche sitting calmly in front of us—I can't tell you what it meant! +Every one was weeping. Of course, we didn't let them feel it. They +saluted every one most politely, you could almost see that they weren't +bad men—but every one said, 'No, none of their help needed. We've got +on without them up till now. I fancy we can see it through.'" +</P> + +<P> +Even Madame Fusil, the baker, who was in most urgent need of +assistance, resolved to be equal to her task alone. It is her little +daughter who delivers the bread to all the numerous patrons, quite a +complicated undertaking for so young a child, who must drive her poor +old nag and his load down many a bumpy side path. One can hear her +little voice all over the country side. "Here Jupiter—get up, I say." +</P> + +<P> +I met her one morning in the Chemin du Moulin, whip in hand, pulling +old Jupiter by the bridle. But Jupiter had decided to take a rest. +Nothing could make him budge, nothing, neither cries nor complaints, +sweetmeats nor menaces. Jupiter was as determined as he was obstinate. +</P> + +<P> +The unfortunate child was red with indignation, almost on the verge of +tears. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Oui, oui,</I>" she fairly sobbed, "he just ought to be sent to the +front. That would teach him a lesson. He does it on purpose, I do +believe. He knows well enough I'll be late to school! It's already +half past seven. I've got three more deliveries to make, and must take +him home and unharness him!" +</P> + +<P> +"What time did you start out, child?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, four o'clock as usual, Madame. But I'm sure to be late this +morning." +</P> + +<P> +I promised that as I was passing by the school I would step in and tell +Madame Dumont, the head mistress, the reason of her tardiness. She +felt much better after that, and presently our combined efforts got +Jupiter to move. +</P> + +<P> +True to my word I sought out Madame Dumont, and found the good woman +already extremely busy at this early hour. +</P> + +<P> +A peasant mother and her three children all arrayed in their Sunday +best, were grouped together at one end of the garden, smiling blandly +into the lens of a camera which the school mistress set up and prepared +to operate. +</P> + +<P> +"There—that's it—smile! Click! It's all over. Now then, Magloire, +climb up on a chair. Hold yourself quite straight, dear, so your papa +will see how much you've grown." +</P> + +<P> +Magloire was photographed with her nose in the air, her mouth wide +open, her other features registering the most complete lunacy. Joseph, +her brother, at whom they fairly shrieked in order to make him smile, +produced the most singular contortion of the mouth that I have ever +seen, which denoted an extreme gift for mimicry, rare in so young a +child. +</P> + +<P> +Little Marie was taken on her mother's lap, and I thought of the +ecstasy of the brave fellow to whom one day the postman would bring the +envelope containing the glorious proofs. With what pride he will show +them to his companions, how he will gloat over his Magloire and his +Joseph, his petite Marie and his <I>bonne femme</I>. Then, drawing away +from the others, he will study them again, each one in turn. Nights +when on duty, those cold nights of vigil, way out there in Saloniki, +when fatigue and homesickness will assail him, he will slip his hand +down into his pocket, and his rough fingers will touch the grease +stained envelope that contains the cherished faces of his dear ones. +</P> + +<P> +It all recalled other powder-blackened hands clenched forever about +soiled remnants of envelopes, from which protruded the edge of a +precious photograph. A shiver ran down my spine as the brave mother +and her three little ones passed by me on their way to change their +clothes—assume their humble dress. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Merci, Madame Dumont. Merci bien.</I>" +</P> + +<P> +"At your service, Madame Lecourt." And Madame Dumont turned to examine +her mail. Rather voluminous in size, but with the Mayor, his +substitute, and her husband at the front, she had become town clerk, +and the quantity of paper and printed matter a village like this daily +receives, is quite unbelievable. Quickly the little school mistress +ran through the envelopes, finally breathing a deep sigh of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, nothing this mail, thank Heaven!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what were you expecting?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything, but I live in terror of finding that +fatal official bulletin announcing the death of some man in our +community. Each time I leave the house, the eyes of every living soul +are fairly glued to me. The women here love me, I know, and yet I feel +that I frighten them. +</P> + +<P> +"If on going out I start up the road, those who live below here breathe +again, relieved. You cannot imagine the tricks I must resort to in +order not to arouse false suspicions. Then, as soon as I open their +door they know the reason of my coming, and what poor miserable +creatures I often take in my arms and try vainly to console. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Madame, the wives you can cope with, say things to, put their +babies in their arms. But the mothers, Madame, the mothers!" +</P> + +<P> +"And no one complains, Madame Dumont?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one, Madame, they all know that we've got to win this war." +</P> + +<P> +All along the road home I walked slowly, lost in reverie. But I had no +time for musing after my arrival, for Aunt Rose met me at the doorstep, +a small boy by her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, my dear," she cooed, "I've a great favour to ask you. Would +you mind walking around to the farms and telling them that Maxence will +be here to-morrow morning? His little boy has just come over to tell +me." +</P> + +<P> +The coming of Maxence produced an indescribable enthusiasm wherever I +announced the news. Maxence is the only blacksmith in Neuilly. Of +course he's serving in the artillery, but during his quarterly ten-day +<I>permissions</I>, he tries to cover all the work that is absolutely +indispensable to the welfare of the community. He arrived much +sun-burned and tanned, accompanied by two other chaps who were not +expected, having travelled two days and two nights without stopping. +</P> + +<P> +They seated themselves before a succulent repast prepared by Madame +Maxence, and in the meantime the crowd began gathering in the shop. +</P> + +<P> +"Get in line! Get in line!" he called to them joyfully. "Give me time +to swallow my coffee and I'll be with you." +</P> + +<P> +Abandoning his uniform, he put on his old clothes, his sabots and his +leather apron, and for ten long days the hammer beat incessantly upon +the anvil. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes between strokes he would look up and smile, calling out: +</P> + +<P> +"Why, they won't even give me time to catch a mess of fish, or go to +see my grandmother at Paray!" +</P> + +<P> +There is always some tool to be repaired, a last horse to be shod. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know about this for a furlough! And every time it's the +same old story." +</P> + +<P> +The others, all those whom I have seen return from the front, do +exactly as did Maxence. +</P> + +<P> +Pushing open the gate, they embrace their pale and trembling wives, +cuddle the children in their arms, and then five minutes later one can +see Jean or Pierre, clothed in his working suit, seized and subjected +by the laws of his tradition. +</P> + +<P> +Sunday though, the whole family must go to Mass. The careful housewife +has brushed and cleaned the faded uniform, burnished the helmet, put +new laces in the great thick-soled shoes. The children cling to their +father, proud of his warlike appearance. Then afterwards, of course, +there are many hands to be shaken, but no extraordinary effusions are +manifested. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, home at last, old man!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're looking splendid. When did you get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you come across Lucien, and Bataille's son?" +</P> + +<P> +They hardly mention the war. They talk of the weather, the crops, the +price of cattle, but never of battle. I have even found a certain +extraordinary dislike for discussion of the subject. Or when they can +be persuaded to speak, they laugh and tell of some weird feat. +</P> + +<P> +"There are those who make the shells, those who shoot them, and those +who catch them. We're doing the catching just at present. There +doesn't seem to be much choice!" +</P> + +<P> +They return, just as they came, without noise, without tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Gigot's son's gone back this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so? How quickly time flies!" +</P> + +<P> +They take the road with a steady step, loaded down beneath their +bundles. But they never turn their heads for a last good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you going to mend my pick-axe, Maxence?" queried an old +neighbour. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry, mother, but I've got to leave." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, it'll be for next time." +</P> + +<P> +"If next time there is!" +</P> + +<P> +There is that terrible conditional "If" in all such village +conversations, just the same as in every conversation all over France. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Two years ago still another "If" hung on every lip. The hope that it +entertained seemed so vastly distant that no one dared give it open +utterance. But each in his secret soul nurtured and cherished the +idea, until at length those whispered longings swelled to a mighty +national desire, +</P> + +<P> +"If only the Americans …" +</P> + +<P> +They have not hoped in vain. The Americans have come. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +FINIS +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's With Those Who Wait, by Frances Wilson Huard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + +***** This file should be named 20111-h.htm or 20111-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/1/20111/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: With Those Who Wait + +Author: Frances Wilson Huard + +Release Date: December 15, 2006 [EBook #20111] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: WITH THOSE WHO WAIT] + + + + + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT + + +BY + +FRANCES WILSON HUARD + + + +AUTHOR OF "MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR," "MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF +MERCY," ETC. + + + +WITH DRAWINGS BY CHARLES HUARD + + + + +McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD & STEWART + +PUBLISHERS -------- TORONTO + + + + +Copyright, 1918, + +By George H. Doran Company + + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +A MES AMIES FRANCAISES, + +HEROINES TOUTES + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY + +MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK + +A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT + +DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME--PARIS + +VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME + +THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR + +A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE + +MONSIEUR AMEDE + +FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUE IN A LITTLE FRENCH CITY + +MAXENCE + + + + +WITH THOSE WHO WAIT + + +I + +Once upon a time there wasn't any war. In those days it was my custom +to drive over to Chateau-Thierry every Friday afternoon. The horses, +needing no guidance, would always pull up at the same spot in front of +the station from which point of vantage, between a lilac bush and the +switch house, I would watch for the approaching express that was to +bring down our week-end guests. + +A halt at the bridge head would permit our friends to obtain a +bird's-eye view of the city, while I purchased a measure of +fresh-caught, shiny-scaled river fish, only to be had of the old +boatman after the arrival of the Paris train. Invariably there were +packages to be called for at Berjot's grocery store, or Dudrumet's dry +goods counter, and then H. having discovered the exact corner from +which Corot painted his delightful panorama of the city, a pilgrimage +to the spot almost always ensued. + +A glance in passing at Jean de la Fontaine's house, a final stop at +"The Elephant" on the quay to get the evening papers, and then passing +through Essommes with its delightful old church, Bonneil and Romery, +our joyful party would reach Villiers just in time for dinner. + +A certain mystery shrouded the locality where our home was situated. +Normandy, Brittany, the Chateaux of Touraine, the climate of the +Riviera, have, at various seasons been more attractive, not only to +foreigners, but to the Parisians themselves, so aside from the art +lovers who made special trips to Rheims, there was comparatively little +pleasure travelling in our immediate neighbourhood, and yet what +particular portion of France is more historically renowned? Is it not +on those same fertile fields so newly consecrated with our blood that +every struggle for world supremacy has been fought? + +It would be difficult to explain just why this neglect of the lovely +East; neglect which afforded us the privilege of guiding our friends, +not only along celebrated highways, but through leafy by-paths that +breathed the very poetry of the XVIIth. century, and stretched, +practically untrodden, through Lucy-le-Bocage, Montreuil-aux-Lions, +down to the Marne and La Ferte-sous-Jouarre. + +It was wonderful rolling country that rippled back from the river; +abounding not only in vegetation, but in silvery green harmonies so +beloved of the Barbizon master, and sympathetic even by the names of +the tiny hamlets which dotted its vine-covered hills. + +Our nearest dealer in agricultural machines lived in a place called +Gaudelu. We called him "MacCormick" because of his absolute and +loquacious partiality for those American machines, and to reach his +establishment we used to pass through delightful places called le Grand +Cormont, Neuilly-la-Poterie, Villers-le-Vaste. + +As I write these lines (July, 1918) the station at Chateau-Thierry is +all of that city that remains in our hands. The bridge head has become +the most disputed spot on the map of Europe; "The Elephant" a heap of +waste in No Man's Land, while doubtless from the very place where Corot +painted his masterpiece, a German machine gun dominating the city is +belching forth its ghastly rain of steel. + +That very country whose obscurity was our pride is an open hook for +thousands of eager allies and enemies, while on the lips of every wife +and mother, from Maine to California, Belleau Woods have become words +full of fearful portent. I often wonder then, if the brave Americans +who are actually disputing inch by inch my home and its surroundings +have ever had time to think that a little village known as "Ecoute s'il +pleut," might find its English equivalent in "Hark-how-it-rains!" + +Two touching accounts of the second descent upon our country have come +to my hands. A little orphan peasant lad, under army age, who fled +with our caravan four years since, now pointer in the French +artillery--writes as follows from "Somewhere in France"--June 6, 1918: + + +DEAR MADAME: + +Just a line to tell you I am alive and well; unfortunately I cannot say +as much for my grandparents, for you doubtless know what has again +befallen our country. All the inhabitants have been evacuated. + +I am absolutely without news of my grandparents. I learned to-day +through a word from my brother Alfred that they had been obliged to +leave home and had fled in an unknown direction. In spite of the +rumour of a new invasion they did not intend to leave Villiers. + +My sister left the first, with some of the young girls of the village. +After twenty-four hours in Paris they were evacuated to a village in +the Yonne. + +My brother was obliged to go the next day, and at the present time is +at Rozoy-en-Brie. I believe we made a halt there in 1914 when we fled +as refugees. After three days at Rozoy, Alfred could stand it no +longer, and with three companions they started home on bicycles, in +order to see what had happened. They reached Villiers to find every +house empty, and were almost instantly expulsed by shells. So now we +are all scattered to the four winds of heaven. I am so sad when I +think of my poor grand-parents, obliged to leave home and to roll along +the high-roads at their age. What misery! + +I am afraid our village is going to suffer much more than it did in +1914. That horde of scoundrels will spare nothing! And when will it +all be over? + +I hope that my letter will find you well and happy, and I beg you to +believe me gratefully and respectfully yours, + +LEON CHATELAIN + Marechal des Logis + 206e Artillerie--28e Batterie + Secteur 122. + + +"With the Mayor, and thanks to a neighbour's car, I was able to get +away," writes Monsieur Aman Jean, the well-known painter, who had a +home in Chateau-Thierry. "The situation was becoming unbearable and we +three were the last to leave our unfortunate city. Behind us an army +engineer blew up the post and telegraph office, the military buildings, +the station, the store house, and finally the bridge. Our eyes were +beginning to smart terribly, which announced the presence of mustard +gas, and told us we had left none too soon. + +"I will never forget the sight and the commotion of the road leading +from Chateau-Thierry to Montmirail. Interminable lines of army +transports on one side counterbalanced by the same number of fleeing +civilians going in the opposite direction. Now and then a farm cart +would pull aside to let a heavy military truck get by, and one can +hardly imagine the state of a highway that is encumbered by a double +current of refugees and soldiers hastening towards the front. The +painful note was made by the unfortunate civilians who had put on their +Sunday clothes, the only way they had of saving them. As to the +picturesque, it was added by the multitude of little donkeys trotting +beneath the weight of the machine guns, and by the equipment of the +Italian troops. There were bright splashes of colour here and there, +together with a heroic and lamentable animation. It impressed me most +violently. It was wonderfully beautiful and pathetically horrible. + +"On one side old people, women and children formed a long straggling +cortege; while on the other--brilliant youth constituted a homogeneous +and solid mass, marching to battle with calm resolution. + +"The populations of the East are astonishingly courageous and resigned. +That of Chateau-Thierry watched the evacuation of the Government +Offices, the banks, the prefecture and the post office without the +slightest alarm. The retreat was well advanced ere they dreamed of it. +When finally the people realised that the enemy was at their very +gates, they moved out swiftly without any commotion." + + +The German onslaught at the Marne in 1914 had been terrible but brief. +The life of our entire region was practically suspended while the Hun +wreaked his vengeance, not only on our armies, but our innocent +civilians and their possessions. Shot and shell, organised looting and +cruelty, were employed to cow the intrepid spirit of the French, but +without success. When, finally their retreat came, hands were quick to +repair material damage, refugees swiftly returned, and even the +September rains joined in the effort to purify the fields which had +been so ruthlessly polluted. + +With the Hun on the Aisne, and a victory to our credit, there wasn't +even a pause for breath. A new life seemed to surge forth, and all +bent their energies towards effacing every trace of what had seemed +like a hideous nightmare. Even the Eastern Railway, which had been +closed on account of the destruction of some seven or eight bridges +over the Marne, broke all records by repairing or replacing them in +eleven days' time. And while this had no direct bearing upon our +situation, the moral effect of even _hearing_ the train-loads of men +and munitions passing through our region, was certainly surprising. + +Little by little things began to assume their normal aspect. Not that +they ever entirely regained it, for there was always the dull rumbling +of the cannon to remind us of bygone terrors, while the establishment +of several emergency hospitals in the vicinity lent an animation to the +highroads, formerly dotted with private cars, but now given over +entirely to ambulances and supply trucks. + +As to the uniforms, they quickly became such accustomed sights that a +youthful civilian would have been the novelty. + +Buoyed up by the success of our armies, every one expected an early +peace, and even the busiest of us began making projects for the fair +future. In the odd moments of relief from my somewhat onerous hospital +duties, my only pleasure and distraction was to build castles in the +air, and in the eternal Winter lights I laid many a plan for a little +boudoir next my bedroom, which I had long desired to see realised. + +When news of H.'s safety reached me, my imagination knew no limits. + +The convalescent patients from all branches of trade, who at different +times had filled the rooms of the chateau, converted into wards, had +been very deft at repairing everything in the way of furniture that the +Germans had defaced or neglected to appropriate. There were many +skilful carpenters and cabinet makers among them, and I saw visions of +employing them at their own trade, producing both occupation, which +they craved, and funds which they needed, but were too proud to accept +as gifts, and what a surprise that room would be for H.! + +I even pushed my collector's mania so far as to pay a visit to an old +bourgeois who lived in a little city called La Ferte-Milon, quite a bit +north of us. The walls of his salon were ornamented with some charming +eighteenth century paper representing the ports of France, and in +excellent condition. I had long coveted it for my boudoir, and in days +before the war had often dickered with him as to price. I now feared +lest it should have been destroyed or disfigured, and regretted having +wished to drive too keen a bargain, but on finding it intact, I am +ashamed to say the collector's instinct got the better of the woman, +and I used every conceivable argument to persuade him to come to my +price. The old fellow was as obdurate as ever. + +"But," I suggested, "don't you realise what a risk you are taking? +Suppose the Germans were to get back here again before you sell it? +You're much nearer the front than we! You will not only lose your +money, but the world will be minus one more good thing, and we've lost +too many of those already." + +The withering glance with which this remark was received was as good as +any discourse on patriotism. + +"The Germans back here? Never! Why at the rate we're going now it +will be all over before Spring and you'll see what a price my paper +will fetch just as soon as peace comes!" + +Peace! Peace! the word was on every lip, the thought in every heart, +and yet every intelligence, every energy was bent on the prosecution of +the most hateful warfare ever known. In all the universe it seemed to +me that the wild animals were the only creatures really exempt from +preoccupation about the fray. It might be war for man and the friends +of man, but for them had come an unexpected reprieve, and even the more +wary soon felt their exemption from pursuit. Man was so busy fighting +his own kind that a wonderful armistice had unconsciously arisen +between him and these creatures, and so birds and beasts, no longer +frightened by his proximity, were indulging in a perfect revel of +freedom. + +During the first weeks of the conflict, the "cotton-tails," always so +numerous on our estate, were simply terrified by the booming of the +guns. If even the distant bombardment assumed any importance, they +would disappear below ground completely, for days at a time. My old +foxhound was quite disconcerted. But like all the rest of us they soon +became accustomed to it, and presently displayed a self assurance and a +familiarity undreamed of, save perhaps in the Garden of Eden. + +[Illustration: VIEW OF CHATEAU-THIERRY] + +It became a common sight to see a brood of partridges or pheasants +strutting along the roadside like any barnyard hen and chickens, and +one recalled with amazement the times when stretching themselves on +their claws they would timidly and fearfully crane their necks above +the grass at the sound of an approaching step. + +At present they are not at all sure that man was their worst enemy. +The Government having decreed that there shall be no game shooting in +the army zone, weazels, pole cats and even fox have become very +numerous, and covey of quail that once numbered ten and fifteen, have +singularly diminished by this incursion of wild animals, not to mention +the hawks, the buzzards and the squirrels. + +One Autumn morning I appeared at our gateway just in time to see a +neighbour's wife homeward bound, the corpses of four white hens that +_Maitre Renard_ had borrowed from their coop, dangling from her arm. +Her husband heard her coming, and on learning the motive of her wails, +the imprecations brought down on the head of that fox were +picturesquely profane to say the least. Presently the scene grew in +violence, and then finally terminated with the assertion that the whole +tragedy was the result of the Kaiser's having thrown open the German +prisons and turned loose his vampires on France. + +Be that as it may, there was certainly no more enchanting way of +obtaining mental and physical relaxation than in wandering through +those wonderful woodlands that abound in our vicinity, and which +breathed so many inspirations to the Master of Fable, who at one time +was their keeper. How I wish that good La Fontaine might have seen his +dumb friends under present circumstances. What fantasies would he not +have woven about them. + +Season and the temperature were of little importance. There was never +a promenade without an incident--never an incident, no matter how +insignificant, that did not remind me of the peculiar phase under which +every living creature was existing. + +Once in the very early Spring, taking my faithful Boston bull, we stole +away for a constitutional. Suddenly my little companion darted up +close to the hedgerow, and on hurrying to the scene to find out the +cause of this departure from her usual dignified demeanour, I found her +standing face to face with a hare! Both animals, while startled, were +rooted to the spot, gazing at each other in sheer fascination of their +own fearlessness. It was so amazingly odd that I laughed aloud. But +even this did not break the spell. It lasted so long that presently +even I became a little puzzled. Finally it was the hare who settled +the question by calmly moving away, without the slightest sign of +haste, leaving my bull dog in the most comical state of concern that I +have ever seen. + +It was about this time that _Fil-de-Ver_, our donkey, decided to +abandon civilised life in favour of a more roaming career in the woods, +which he doubtless felt was his only true vocation. He had fared ill +at the hands of the Germans, and during the entire Winter our own boys +had used him regularly to haul dead wood. This kind of _kultur_ he +resented distinctly, and resolved to show his disgust by becoming more +independent. + +First he tried it out for a day or two at a time. Then he was gone a +week, and finally he disappeared altogether. + +Being of sociable disposition he joined a little herd of deer which was +the pride and joy of our woods, and one afternoon I came upon this +motley company down by a little lick we had arranged on the brink of a +tiny river that crosses our estate. + +As I approached they all lifted their heads. A baby fawn, frightened, +scurried into the underbrush. But the others let me come quite close, +and then gently, as though to display their nimbleness and grace, +bounded away mid the tender green foliage, gold splashed here and there +by the fast sinking sun. _Fil-de-Fer_ stood a moment undecided. +Presently, lifting his hind legs high into the air he gave vent to a +series of kickings and contortions which might have been taken for a +comical imitation, while a second later as though realising how +ridiculous he had been, he fell to braying with despair, and breaking +into a gallop fled in the direction of his new found friends. + +Simultaneous with _Fil-de-Fer's_ disappearance came the rumour that the +_Loup-garou_ was abroad and was sowing panic in its wake. Just what +kind of animal the _Loup-garou_ might be, was somewhat difficult to +ascertain. No one in our vicinity had ever seen him, and from all I +could gather he seemed to be a strange sort of apocalyptic beast, +gifted with horns, extraordinary force, and the especial enemy of +mankind. + +There was something almost uncanny in the way the peasants would look +at one and lower their voices when speaking of this weird phenomenon, +and presently from having suspected my innocent donkey, I began to +wonder if I were not in the presence of some local popular superstition. + +The rumour was still persistent, when one evening at dark there was an +urgent call from Headquarters asking that we send down for four or five +patients that were destined for our hospital. I do not now recall for +just what reason I went alone, save for a twelve-year-old village lad, +but what I do remember was the respectful moral lecture that I received +from an old peasant woman who met our cart on the high-road just before +we turned off into the Bois du Loup. + +Night, black and starless, was upon us before we had penetrated half a +mile into the woods. My youthful companion began to sing martial airs, +and stimulated his courage by beating time with his feet on the bottom +of the cart. A chill Autumn rain commenced to fall, tinkling against +the rare leaves that now remained on the trees, blinding both horse and +driver, and greatly impeding our progress. Presently I noticed that +our lantern had gone out, and fearing lest we be borne down upon by +some swift moving army truck, I produced a pocket lamp and descended +from my seat. + +A handful of damp matches, much time and good humour were consumed ere +I succeeded in getting a light, and just as I swung the lantern back +into place, the air was pierced by a high-pitched, blood-curdling +shriek! + +_Le Loup_ . . . ! + +At the same moment there was a sharp crackling on the opposite side of +the road, and an instant later a wild boar, followed by her young, +brushed past me and darted into the obscurity. + +My companion was livid. His teeth chattered audibly. He tried to pull +himself together and murmured incoherent syllables. Personally, I was +a bit unnerved, yet somewhat reassured. If my eyes had not deceived +me, the mystery of the _Loup-garou_ was now solved. And yet I felt +quite sure that wild boar were unknown in our region. + +At Chateau-Thierry I made enquiries and from soldiers and foresters +learned that heretofore inhabitants of the Ardennes forest, these +animals had been driven South when man had chosen to make the firing +line of their haunts; and that, prolific breeders, they were now +practically a menace to the unarmed civilian. From these same lovers +of nature I gathered that for the first time in their recollection +sea-gulls and curlews had likewise been seen on the banks of the Marne. + +While the country now abounds in newcomers, many of the old familiar +birds and animals are rapidly disappearing. + +Larks are rare visitors these days, and the thrush which used to hover +over our vineyards in real flocks, have almost entirely vanished. The +swallows, however, are our faithful friends and have never failed to +return to us. + +Each succeeding Spring their old haunts are in a more or less +dilapidated condition according to the number of successful visits the +German aviators have chosen to pay us during the Winter, and I fancy +that this upsets them a trifle. For hundreds of generations they have +been accustomed to nest in the pinions of certain roofs, to locate in a +determined chimney, and it is a most amusing sight to see them cluster +about a ruined spot and discuss the matter in strident chirpings. + +Last season, after a family consultation, which lasted well nigh all +the morning, and during which they made repeated visits of inspection +to a certain favourite drain pipe, I suddenly saw them all lift wing +and sail away towards the North. My heart sank. Something near and +dear seemed to be slipping from me, and one has said _au revoir_ so oft +in vain. So they too were going to abandon me! + +In one accustomed to daily coping with big human problems, such emotion +may seem trivial, but it was perhaps this constant forced endurance +that kept one up, made one almost supersensitively sentimental. Little +things grew to count tremendously. + +At lunch time I sauntered forth quite sad at heart, when an unexpected +familiar twittering greeted my ear, and I turned northward to see my +little friends circling about the stables. Life closer to the front +had evidently not offered any particular advantages, and in a few days' +time their constant comings and goings from certain specific points +told me that they had come back to stay. + +But if friend swallow may be praised for his fidelity, unfortunately +not so much can be said for another familiar passerby--the wild duck. +October had always seen them flocking southward, and some one of our +household had invariably heard their familiar call, as at daybreak they +would pass over the chateau on their way from the swamps of the Somme +to the Marais de St. Gond. The moment was almost a solemn one. It +seemed to mark an epoch in the tide of our year. Claude, Benoit, +George and a decrepit gardener would abandon all work and prepare +boats, guns and covers on the Marne. + +Oh, the wonderful still hours just before dawn! Ah, that +indescribable, intense, yet harmonious silence that preceded the +arrival of our prey! + +Alas, all is but memory now. Claude has fallen before Verdun, Benoit +was killed on the Oise, and George has long since been reported missing. + +Alone, unarmed, the old gardener and I again awaited the cry of our +feathered friends, but our waiting, like that of so many others, was in +vain. The wild ducks are a thing of the past. Where have they gone? +No one knows, no one has ever seen them. And in the tense hush of the +Autumn nights, above the distant rumble of the cannon rose only the +plaintive cry of stray dogs baying at the moon. + +Dogs, _mon Dieu_, I wonder how many of those poor, forgotten, abandoned +creatures having strayed into our barnyard were successively washed, +combed, fed, cared for and adopted. + +Some of them, haunted by the spirit of unrest, remained with us but a +moment; others tried us for a day, a week, and still others, +appreciative of our pains, refused to leave at all. + +Oh, the heart rending, lonesome, appealing look in the eyes of a poor +brute that has lost home and master! + +It is thus that I came into possession of an ill tempered French poodle +called _Crapouillot_, which the patients in our hospital insisted on +clipping like a lion with an anklet, a curl over his nose and a puff at +the end of his tail. A most detestable, unfortunate beast, always to +be found where not needed, a ribbon in his hair, and despicably bad +humoured. + +He was succeeded by a Belgian sheep dog, baptised _Namur_, who in time +gave place to one of the most hopelessly ugly mongrels I have ever +seen. But the new comer was so full of life and good will, had such a +comical way of smiling and showing his gleaming white teeth, that in +memory of the joy caused by the Charlie Chaplin films, he was +unanimously dubbed _Charlot_. + +The mere sound of his name would plunge him into ecstasies of joy, +accompanied by the wildest yapping and strange capers, which invariably +terminated by a double somersault in the mud so anxious was he to +convince us of his gratitude. Imagine then what might be obtained by a +caress, or a bowl of hot soup. + +Last in line, but by no means least, was a splendid English pointer, a +superb, finely bred animal, who day in, day out would lie by the open +fire, lost in a profound revery that terminated in a kind of sob. +Poor, melancholy _Mireille_, what master was she mourning? For what +home did she thus pine? How I respected and appreciated her sadness. +How intensely human she became. + +Finally when I could resist no longer I would take her long delicate +head into my hands and gently stroke it, seeking to impart my sympathy. +"I know that you never can be mine," I would murmur, "that you will +ever and eternally belong to him to whom you gave yourself once and +entirely. But these are sad anxious days for us all; we must bear +together. And so as my own dogs have often been my only consolation in +like times of misery and despair, oh, how I would love to comfort +you--beautiful, faithful, disconsolate Mireille!" + + + + +II + +Cities, like people, seem to have souls, deep hidden and rarely ever +entirely revealed. How well must one come to know them, stone by +stone, highways, homes and habitants, ere they will disclose their +secret. I have rejoiced too often in the splendid serenity of St. Jean +des Vignes, felt too deeply the charm of those ancient streets, hoped +and suffered too intensely within its confines that Soissons should not +mean more to me than to the average zealous newspaper correspondent, +come there but to make note of its wounds, to describe its ruins. + +Fair Soissons, what is now your fate? In what state shall we find you? +What ultimate destiny is reserved for your cathedral, your stately +mansions, your magnificent gardens? What has become of those fifteen +or sixteen hundred brave souls who loved you so well that they refused +to leave you? _Qui sait_? + +One arrived at Soissons in war time by long avenues, shaded on either +side by a double row of stately elms, whose centenary branches +stretching upward formed an archway overhead. Then came the last +outpost of Army Police, a sentinel stopped you, minutely examined your +passports, verified their vises, and finally, all formalities +terminated, one entered what might have been the City of Death. + +Moss and weeds had sprung up between the cobble stone pavings; as far +as eye could see not a human soul was astir, not a familiar noise was +to be heard, not a breath of smoke stole heavenwards from those +hundreds of idle chimneys: and yet life, tenacious ardent life was +wonderfully evident here and there. A curtain lifted as one passed, a +cat on the wall, a low distant whistle, clothes drying at a window, a +flowering plant on a balcony, sometimes a door ajar, through which one +guessed a store in whose dimly lighted depths shadows seemed to be +moving about; all these bore witness to an eager, undaunted existence, +hidden for the time being perhaps, but intense and victorious, ready to +spring forward and struggle anew in admirable battles of energy and +conscience. + +The Hotel du Soleil d'Or offered a most hospitable welcome. It was the +only one open or rather, if one would be exact, the only one still +extant. To be sure there were no panes in the windows, and ungainly +holes were visible in almost all the ceilings, but the curtains were +spotlessly white and the bed linen smelled sweet from having been dried +in the open air. + +A most appreciable surprise was the excellent _cuisine_, and as +ornament to the dining-room table, between a pair of tall preserve +dishes, and on either side of the central bouquet, stood an unexploded +German shell. One of them had fallen on to the proprietor's bed, the +second landing in the pantry, while twenty or thirty others had worked +more efficiently, as could be attested by the ruins of the carriage +house, stables, and what had once been a glass covered Winter garden. + +On a door leading out of the office, and curiously enough left intact, +one might read, _Salon de conversation_. If you were to attempt to +cross the threshold, however, your eye would be instantly greeted by a +most abominable heap of plaster and wreckage, and the jovial proprietor +seeing your embarrassment, would explain: + +"My wife and the servants are all for cleaning up, but to my mind it's +better to leave things just as they are. Besides if we put all to +rights now, when our patrons return they will never credit half we tell +them. Seeing is believing! At any rate, it's an out of the way place, +and isn't bothering people for the time being." + +And truly enough this mania for repairing and reconstructing, this +instinct of the active ant that immediately commences to rebuild its +hill, obliterated by some careless foot, has become as characteristic +of the French. + +The Sisters of St. Thomas de Villeneuve, who were in charge of an +immense hospital, had two old masons who might be seen at all times, +trowel in hand, patching up the slightest damage to their buildings; +the local manager of a Dufayel store had become almost a fanatic on the +subject. His stock in trade consisted of furniture, china and crockery +of all kinds, housed beneath a glass roof, which seemed to attract the +Boches' special attention, for during the four years of war just past, +I believe that scarcely a week elapsed during which he was not directly +or indirectly the victim of their fire. + +The effects were most disastrous, but aided by his wife and an elderly +man who had remained in their employ, he would patiently recommence +scrubbing, sweeping and cleaning, carefully reinstating each object or +fragment thereof, in or as near as possible to its accustomed place. + +It was nothing less than miraculous to survey those long lines of +wardrobes that seemed to hold together by the grace of the Almighty +alone; gaze upon whole rows of tables no one of which had the requisite +number of legs; behold mere skeletons of chairs, whose seats or backs +were missing; sofas where gaping wounds displayed the springs; huge +piles of plates each one more nicked or cracked than its predecessor; +series of flower pots which fell to pieces in one's hands if one were +indiscreet enough to touch them. + +"I don't see the point in straightening things out so often"--was my +casual comment. + +"Why, Madame, what on earth would we do about the inventory when peace +comes, if we were not to put a little order into our stock?" was the +immediate reply. + +I was sorry I had spoken. + + +Among the other numerous places of interest was the store of a dealer +in haberdashery and draperies. An honest, well equipped old fashioned +French concern, whose long oak counters were well polished from +constant use. The shelves were piled high with piece after piece of +wonderful material, but not a single one of them had been exempt from +the murderous rain of steel; they were pierced, and pierced, and +pierced again. + +"So pierced that there is not a length sufficient to make even a cap!" +explained Madame L., "but you just can't live in disorder all the time, +and customers wouldn't like to see an empty store. Everything we have +to sell is in the cellar!" + +And true enough this subterranean existence had long ceased to be a +novelty, and had become almost a habit. + +From the basement windows of every inhabited dwelling protruded a stove +pipe, and the lower regions had gradually come to be furnished almost +as comfortably as the upper rooms in normal days. Little by little the +kitchen chair and the candle had given way to a sofa and a hanging +lamp; beds were set up and rugs put in convenient places. + +"We live so close to the trenches that by comparison it seems like a +real paradise to us," gently explained Madame Daumont, the pork +butcher. Her _charcuterie_ renowned far and wide for its hot meat +pates, ready just at noon, had been under constant fire ever since the +invasion, but had never yet failed to produce its customary ovenful at +the appointed hour. + +"At the time of the battle of Crouy," she confessed, "I was just on the +point of shutting up shop and leaving. I'm afraid I was a bit hasty, +but three shells had hit the house in less than two hours, and my old +mother was getting nervous. The dough for my pates was all ready, but +I hesitated. Noon came, and with it my clientele of Officers. + +"'_Eh bien, nos pates_? What does this mean!' + +"'No, gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I cannot make up my mind to bear it +another day. I'm leaving in a few moments.' + +"'What? Leaving? And we who are going out to meet death have got to +face it on empty stomachs?' + +"They were right. In a second I thought of my own husband out there in +Lorraine. So I said to them 'Come back at four o'clock and they'll be +ready.'" + +And then gently, and as though to excuse herself, she added-- + +"There are moments though when fear makes you lose your head, but there +doesn't seem to be anything you can't get used to." + +"You soon get used to it" was the identical expression of a young +farmer's aid who sold fruit, vegetables and flowers beneath an archway +that had once been the entrance to the Hotel de la Clef. She had +attracted my attention almost immediately, the brilliant colours of her +display, and her pink and white complexion, standing out so fresh and +clear against the background of powder-stained stones and chalky ruin +heaps. + +The next day, after an extra heavy nocturnal bombardment, we went out +in search of a melon. A shell had shattered her impromptu showcase, +dislocated a wall on one side of the archway, which menaced immediate +collapse. In fact, the place had become untenable. + +"Oh, it's such a nuisance to have to look for another sure spot," was +the only lament. "Just see, there's a whole basket of artichokes gone +to waste--and my roses--what a pity!" + +An explosion had gutted the adjacent building leaving an immense breach +opening on to the street from what had once been an office or perhaps a +store-room. + +"Just wait a moment," she pleaded, "until I get set up inside there. +You can't half see what I've got out here." + +Five minutes later I returned and explained the object of my quest. + +"We've only got a very few, Madame, our garden is right in their range, +and we had a whole melon patch destroyed by splinters, only day before +yesterday. I had three this morning, but I sold them all to the +gentleman of the artillery, and I've promised to-morrow's to the +Brigade Officers. I hardly think I shall be able to dispose of any +more before the end of the week. But why don't you go and see 'Pere +Francois'? He might have some." + +"You mean old Pere Francois who keeps the public gardens?" + +"Yes, Madame." + +"Oh, I know him very well. I've often exchanged seeds and slips with +him. Does he still live where he used to?" + +"I believe so." + +We were not long seeking him out, and in response to our knocking his +good wife opened the door. + +"Oh, he's out in his garden," was her reply to our queries. "You can't +keep him away from it. But he's going crazy, I think. He wants to +attend to everything all by himself now. There isn't a soul left to +help him, and he'll kill himself, or be killed at it as sure as I'm +alive. You'll see, the shells won't miss him. He's escaped so far but +he may not always be so lucky. He's already had a steel splinter in +his thumb, and one of them tore a hole in his cap and in his waistcoat. +That's close enough, I should think. But there's no use of my talking; +he just won't listen to me. He's mad about gardening. That's what he +is!" + +On the old woman's assurance that we would find him by pounding hard on +the gateway leading to the Avenue de la Gare, we hastened away, leaving +her to babble her imprecations to a lazy tabby cat who lay sunning +itself in a low window box. + +The old fellow being a trifle deaf we were destined to beat a rather +lengthy tattoo on the high iron gate. But our efforts were crowned +with success, for presently we heard his steps approaching, his sabots +crunching on the gravel path. + +His face lighted up when he saw us. + +"Oh, I remember you, of course I do. You're the lady who used to have +the American sweet peas and the Dorothy Perkins. I know you! And the +dahlias I gave you? How did they turn out?" + +I grew red and sought to change the conversation. Perhaps he saw and +understood. + +"Come and see mine anyway!" + +That sight alone would have made the trip worth while. + +"I cut the grass this very morning so as they'd show off better! +They're so splendid this year that I've put some in the garden at the +Hotel de Ville." + +Further on the _Gloire de Dijon, La France_ and _Marechal Niels_ spread +forth all their magnificent odorous glory onto the balmy air of this +Isle de France country, whose skies are of such exquisite delicate +blue, whose very atmosphere breathes refinement. + +I felt my old passion rising;--that passion which in times gone by had +drawn us from our sleep at dawn, and scissors and pruning knife in +hand, how many happy hours had H. and I thus spent; he at his fruit +trees, I at my flower beds, cutting, trimming, scraping, clipping; +inwardly conscious of other duties neglected, but held as though +fascinated by the most alluring infatuation in the world--the love of +nature. Here now in this delightful garden kept up by the superhuman +efforts of a faithful old man, the flame kindled anew. + +In an instant H. had discovered the espaliers where _Doyenne du +Cornice_ and _Passe Cressane_ were slowly but surely attaining the +required degree of perfection beneath Pere Francois' attentive care. +As I stood open mouthed in wonder before the largest bush of fuchsias I +had ever yet beheld, an explosion rent the air, quickly followed by a +second, the latter much closer to us. + +"Boche bombs! Come quick," said Pere Francois without seeming in the +least ruffled. + +Led by the old man we hastened to a tiny grotto, in whose depths we +could hear a fountain bubbling. Legion must have been the loving +couples that have visited this spot in times gone by, for their vows of +fidelity were graven in endearing terms on the stony sides of the +retreat. _Leon et Marguerite pour toujours, Alice et Theodore, Georges +et Germaine_ were scrawled above innumerable arrow-pierced hearts. + +"All things considered, I'd rather they'd send us over a shell or two +than bomb us from above!" ejaculated Pere Francois, who spoke from +experience. + +"It was one of those hateful things that hit my Japanese pepper tree on +the main lawn, and killed our only cedar. The handsomest specimen we +had here! It makes me sick every time I throw a log of it on to the +fire in the Winter. I can't tell you how queer it makes me feel. Of +course, it's bad enough for them to kill men who are their enemies, but +think of killing trees that it takes hundreds of years to grow. What +good can that do them?" + +The Boche deemed at a safe distance, we visited the vegetable garden +where we purchased our melon and were presented with any number of +little packets containing seeds. We protested at the old man's +generosity and sought to remunerate him. + +"Nothing of the kind; I wouldn't think of accepting it. It's my +pleasure. Why it's been ages since I had such a talk as this. I'm so +glad you came. So glad for my roses too!" and he started to cut a +splendid bouquet. + +"I've been saying to myself every day," he continued, "Isn't it a pity +that nobody should see them? But now I feel satisfied." + +At the gateway we held out our hands which he took and shook most +heartily, renewing his protestations of delight at our visit, and +begging us to "Come again soon." + +"To be happy one must cultivate his garden," murmured H., quoting +Voltaire as we made off down the road. And within a day or two we +again had an excellent proof of this axiom when we discovered that Abbe +L. still resided in his little home whose garden extended far into the +shadow of St. Jean des Vignes. + +That worthy ecclesiastic gave over every moment that was not employed +in the exercise of his sacred functions to the joys of archaeological +research, and was carefully compiling a history of the churches in the +arrondissement of Soissons and Chateau-Thierry. He had been our guest +at Villiers, and I remember having made for him an imprint of two +splendid low-relief tombstones which date back to the 15th century, and +were the sole object and ornament of historic interest in our little +village chapel. + +This history was the joy and sole distraction of his entire existence, +and he never ceased collecting documents and photographs, books, plans +and maps, all of which though carefully catalogued, threatened one day +to take such proportions that his modest dwelling would no longer +suffice to hold them. + +We found him comfortably installed behind a much littered kitchen table +in a room that I had heretofore known as his dining room. I was a bit +struck by its disorder, and the good man was obliged to remove several +piles of papers from the chairs before inviting us to be seated. + +"I trust you will forgive this confusion," he begged, "but you see a +shell hit my study yesterday noon, and has forced me to take refuge in +this corner of the house which is certainly far safer." + +"I've had an excellent occasion to work," he continued. "Our duties +are very slight these days, and the extreme quiet in which we live is +most propitious for pursuing the task I have undertaken." + +"But, Monsieur l'Abbe," we cried. "What a paradox! And the +bombardment?" + +"Really, you know, I've hardly suffered from it--except when that shell +struck the house the other morning. Of course, the whole edifice +shook, and at one time I thought the roof was coming through upon my +head. My ink bottle was upset and great streams trickled to the floor. +But Divine intervention saved my precious manuscript which I was in the +very act of copying, and although my notes and files were a bit +disarranged, they were easily sorted and set to rights. So you see +there was nothing really to deplore and God has graciously seen fit to +let me continue my work. It is such a joy to be able to do so." + +Strange placidity! the immediate countryside for miles around having +long since been delivered up to brutal destruction, wanton waste, +hideous massacre, and a goodly number of the churches of which the +pious man was taking so much pains to record the history, were now but +anonymous heaps of stone. + +All the way home I could not refrain from philosophising on the +happiness of life, perfect contentment, and the love of good. My +reflections, while perhaps not particularly deep nor brilliant, were +none the less imbued with a sense of gratitude to the Almighty, and +filled with pity and respect for poor human nature. + +It is certain that for such people, the idea of escaping the terrors, +the dangers and the sight of most horrible spectacles, had not weighed +an instant in the balance against the repugnance of altering life-long +habits, or abandoning an assemblage of dearly beloved landscapes and +faces. + +Naturally enough, a certain number of commercial minded had remained +behind, tempted by the possibility of abnormal gain through catering to +the soldier; and to whatever had been their habitual merchandise, was +soon added a stock of mandolins, accordions, cheap jewelry, kit bags, +fatigue caps and calico handkerchiefs--in fact all that indispensable, +gaudy trumpery that serves to attract a clientele uniquely composed of +warriors. + +But, besides these merchants, there were still to be counted a certain +number of well-to-do citizens, professors, government employes, priests +and magistrates, all simple honest souls who had stayed because they +were unable to resign themselves to an indefinite residence away from +Soissons, and there was no sacrifice to which they were not resolved in +advance, so long as it procured them the joy of remaining. + +I accompanied the President of the local French Red Cross Chapter on a +visit to a lady who was much interested in an _ouvroir_, and who lived +in a splendid old mansion located near the ruins of the Palais de +Justice. + +The little bell tinkled several times, resounding clearly in the +deathlike silence, and presently a young maid-servant made her +appearance at a small door that opened in the heavy portico. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"Oh, no, Madame! Why didn't Madame know that both Monsieur and Madame +left for the seashore last evening? Shall I give Madame their address +at Houlgate? They've been going there for the last twenty years. They +will be back the first of September as usual." + +"How stupid of me," exclaimed my companion. "I might have known +though. We shall discover what we wish to know from Madame V." + +We found the last mentioned lady and her daughter in a pretty dwelling +on the boulevard Jeanne d'Arc. After presentations and greetings: + +"You are not leaving town this Summer?" + +"Not this season; unfortunately our country house is at present +occupied by the Germans, and as the mountains are forbidden, and the +sea air excites me so that I become quite ill, I fear we shall have to +remain at home, for the time being at least. The garden is really +delightfully cool though--we sit out there and sew all day." + +I asked permission to admire the exquisite embroidered initials which +both mother and daughter were working. + +"I'm so glad you like them. Do you know we found that monogram on an +old 18th century handkerchief? We merely enlarged it, and really feel +that we have something quite unusual. But my table cloths are well +worth it, they were the very last that were left at the Cour Batave. I +doubt if any finer quality will ever be woven." + +"Your daughter will have a wonderful trousseau." + +"She will have something durable at least, Madame, a trousseau that +will stand the test of time and washing," replied the good mother +smiling blandly, touched by my appreciation. + +"I still have sheets which came down to me from my great grand-mother, +and I hope that my own great grand-sons will some day eat from this +very cloth." + +"But they will never guess under what strange circumstances it was +hemmed and embroidered," gently proffered the young girl raising her +big blue eyes and smiling sweetly. + +"Bah, what difference does that make so long as they are happy and can +live in peace? That's the principal thing, the one for which we're all +working, isn't it?" + +Such is the spirit that pervades all France. It is simple, +undemonstrative heroism, the ardent desire of a race to last in spite +of all. What more imperturbable confidence in its immortality could be +manifested than by this mother and daughter calmly discussing the +durability of their family linen, within actual range of Teuton gunfire +that might annihilate them at any moment? + +As we were about to leave Monsieur S. came up the front steps. He had +been out in company of a friend, making his habitual daily tour of the +city. Like most middle aged, well-to-do bourgeois his attire was +composed of a pair of light trousers, slightly baggy at the knee, and a +bit flappy about the leg; a black cutaway jacket and a white pique +waistcoat. This classic costume usually comports a panama hat and an +umbrella. Now Monsieur S. had the umbrella, but in place of the panama +he had seen fit to substitute a blue steel soldier's helmet, which +amazing military headgear made a strange combination with the remainder +of his civilian apparel. Nevertheless he bowed to us very skilfully, +and at that moment I caught sight of a leather strap, which slung over +one shoulder, hung down to his waist and carried his gas mask. + +[Illustration: MONSIEUR S. OF SOISSONS WITH HIS GAS MASK] + +For several days I laboured under the impression that this mode was +quite unique, but was soon proved mistaken, for on going to the Post +Office to get my mail (three carriers having been killed, there were no +longer any deliveries) I discovered that it was little short of +general. Several ladies had even dared risk the helmet, and the whole +assembly took on a war like aspect that was quite apropos. + +Thus adorned, the octogenarian Abbe de Villeneuve, his umbrella swung +across his back, his cassock tucked up so as to permit him to ride a +bicycle, was a sight that I shall never forget. + +"Why, Monsieur le Cure, you've quite the air of a sportsman." + +"My child, let me explain. You see I can no longer trust to my legs, +they're too old and too rheumatic. Well then, when a bombardment sets +in how on earth could I get home quickly without my bicycle?" + +As visitors to the front, we were guests of the French Red Cross +Society while in Soissons. The local president, whose deeds of heroism +have astonished the world at large, is an old-time personal friend. + +A luncheon in our honour was served on a spotless cloth, in the only +room of that lady's residence which several hundred days of constant +bombardment had still left intact. Yet, save for the fact that paper +had replaced the window panes, nothing betrayed the proximity of the +German. Through the open, vine grown casement, I could look out onto a +cleanly swept little court whose centre piece of geraniums was a +perfect riot of colour. + +Around the congenial board were gathered our hostess, the old Cure de +St. Vast, the General in command of the Brigade, his Colonel, three +Aides-de-Camp, my husband and myself. + +Naturally, the topic of conversation was the war, but strange as it may +seem, it was we, the civilians, that were telling our friends of the +different activities that were afoot and would eventually bring the +United States to the side of the Allies. + +Towards the middle of the repast our enemies began sending over a few +shells and presently a serious bombardment was under way. Yet no one +stirred. + +Dishes were passed and removed, and though oft times I personally felt +that the pattering of shrapnel on the tin roof opposite was +uncomfortably close, I was convinced there was no theatrical display of +bravery, no cheap heroism in our companions' unconsciousness. They +were interested in what was being said--_voila tout_. + +Presently, however, our hostess leaned towards me and I fancied she was +about to suggest a trip cellarward, instead of which she whispered that +on account of the bombardment we were likely to go without dessert +since it had to come from the other side of town and had not yet +arrived. + +Then a shell burst quite close, and at the same time the street bell +rang. The _cordon_ was pulled, and through the aperture made by the +backward swing of the great door, I caught sight of a ruddy cheeked, +fair haired maiden in her early teens, bearing a huge bowl of fresh +cream cheese in her outstretched hands. + +Steadily she crossed the court, approached the window where she halted, +smiled bashfully, set down her precious burden, and timidly addressing +our hostess: + +"I'm sorry, Madame," said she, "so sorry if I have made you wait." + +And so it goes. + +I remember a druggist who on greeting me exclaimed: + +"A pretty life, is it not, for a man who has liver trouble?" And yet +he remained simply because it was a druggist's duty to do so when all +the others are mobilised. + +There was also the printer of a local daily, who continued to set up +his type with one side of his shop blown out; who went right on +publishing when the roof caved in, and who actually never ceased doing +so until the whole structure collapsed, and a falling wall had +demolished his only remaining press. + +Monsieur le Prefet held counsel and deliberated in a room against whose +outside wall one could hear the constant patter of machine gun bullets +raining thick from the opposite bank of the river. Monsieur Muzart, +the Mayor, seemed to be everywhere at once, and was always the first on +the spot when anything really serious occurred. + +Add to these the little dairy maids, who each morning fearlessly +delivered the city's milk; or the old fellow on whom had devolved the +entire responsibility of the street-cleaning department and who went +about, helmet clad, attending to his chores, now and then shouting a +hearty "_Whoa Bijou_" to a faithful quadruped who patiently dragged his +dump cart, and over whose left ear during the entire Summer, was tied a +bunch of tri-colour field flowers. + +I had almost forgotten to mention two extraordinary old women, whom I +came upon seated out in a deserted street, making over a mattress, +while gently discussing their private affairs. It was the end of a +warm July afternoon. A refreshing coolness had begun to rise from the +adjacent river, and in the declining sunlight I could see great swarms +of honey bees hovering about a climbing rose bush whose fragrant +blossoms hung in huge clusters over the top of a convent wall near by. +I could not resist the temptation. Pressed by the desire to possess I +stepped forward and was about to reach upward when a masculine voice, +whose owner was hidden somewhere near my elbow called forth: + +"Back, I say! Back! you're in sight!" + +I quickly dived into the shadow for cover just in time to hear the +bullets from a German machine gun whizz past my ear! + +"You can trust them to see everything," murmured one of the old women, +not otherwise disturbed. "But if you really want some roses just go +around the block and in by the back gate, Madame." + +How in the presence of such calm can we believe in war? + +Ah, France! elsewhere perhaps there may be just as brave--but surely +none more sweetly! + + + + +III + +The little village was just behind the lines. The long stretch of +roadway, that following the Aisne finally passed through its main +street, had been so thoroughly swept by German fire that it was as +though pockmarked by ruts and shell holes, always half full of muddy +water. + +A sign to the left said-- + + _Chemin, defile de V._-- + + +There could be no choice; there was but to follow the direction +indicated, branch out onto a new highway which, over a distance of two +or three miles, wound in and out with many strategic contortions; a +truly military route whose topography was the most curious thing +imaginable. If by accident there happened to be a house in its way it +didn't take the trouble to go _around_, but _through_ the edifice. + +One arrived thus in the very midst of the village, having involuntarily +traversed not only the notary's flower garden, but also his +drawing-room, if one were to judge by the quality of the now much faded +wall paper, and the empty spots where portraits used to hang. + +The township had served as target to the German guns for many a long +month, and was seriously _amoche_, as the saying goes. "Coal scuttles" +by the hundred had ripped the tiles from almost every roof. Huge +breaches gaped in other buildings, while some of them were completely +levelled to the ground. Yet, in spite of all, moss, weeds and vines +had sprung up mid the ruins, adding, if possible, the picturesque to +this scene of desolation. One robust morning glory I noted had climbed +along a wall right into the soot of a tumble-down chimney, and its +fairylike blossoms lovingly entwined the iron bars whereon had hung and +been smoked many a succulent ham. + +The territorials (men belonging to the older army classes), had +installed their mess kitchens in every convenient corner: some in the +open court-yards and others beneath rickety stables and sheds, where +the sunlight piercing the gloom caught the dust in its rays and made it +seem like streams of golden powder, whose brightness enveloped even the +most sordid nooks and spread cheer throughout the dingy atmosphere. + +Fatigue squads moved up and down the road, seeking or returning with +supplies, while those who were on duty, pick and shovel in hand, moved +off to their work in a casual, leisurely manner one would hardly term +military. + +Of civilians there remained but few. Yet civilians there were, and of +the most determined nature: "hangers-on" who when met in this vicinity +seemed almost like last specimens of an extinct race, sole survivors of +the world shipwreck. + +At the moment of our arrival an old peasant woman was in the very act +of scolding the soldiers, who to the number of two hundred and fifty (a +whole company) filled to overflowing her modest lodgings, where it +seemed to me half as many would have been a tight squeeze. It was +naturally impossible for her to have an eye on all of them. In her +distress she took me as witness to her trials. + +"Just see," she vociferated, "they trot through my house with their +muddy boots, they burn my wood, they're drying up my well, and on top +of it all they persist in smoking in my hay-loft, and the hay for next +Winter is in! Shouldn't you think their Officers would look after +them? Why, I have to be a regular watch-dog, I do!" + +"That's all very well, mother," volunteered a little dried up Corporal. +"But how about _their_ incendiary shells? You'll get one of them +sooner or later. See if you don't!" + +"If it comes, we'll take it; we've seen lots worse than that! Humph! +That's no reason why you should mess up a house that belongs to your +own people, is it? I'd like to know what your wife would say if she +caught you smoking a pipe in her hay loft?" + +Shouts of laughter from the culprits. Then a tall, lean fellow, taking +her side, called out: + +"She's right, boys, she had a hard enough job getting the hay in all by +herself. Put out your pipes since that seems to get on her nerves. +Now then, mother, there's always a way of settling a question between +honest people. We won't smoke in your hay any more; that is, provided +you'll sell us fresh vegetables for our mess." + +The old woman was trapped and had to surrender, which she did, but most +ungraciously, all the while moaning that she would more than likely die +of starvation the following Winter. So a moment later the group +dispersed on hearing the news that the "Auto-bazaar" had arrived. + +This auto-bazaar certainly contained more treasures than were ever +dreamed of in ancient Golconda. There was everything the soldier's +heart might desire, from gun grease and cigarette paper down to wine +and provisions; the whole stored away in a literal honey-comb of +shelves and drawers with which the sides were lined. + +The men all hurried forward. Loaded with water bottles, their hands +full of coppers, they clustered about it. + +From his dominating position at the rear end of the truck, the +store-keeper announced: + +"No more pork pie left!" + +This statement brought forth several indignant oaths from the +disappointed. + +"It's always that way, they're probably paid to play that joke on us. +It was the same story last time! We'll send in a complaint. See if we +don't." + +But these grumblings were soon outvoiced by the announcement-- + +"Plenty of head-cheese and camembert. Now then! boys, who's ready?" + +The effect was instantaneous. + +Smiles broke out on every countenance. The good news was quickly +spread abroad, and presently the sound of plates and dishes, clinking +cups, and joyful laughter recalled a picnic which we had organised in +the vicinity, one warm July afternoon some four years ago. + +A military band rehearsing a march in an open field just behind us +added life and gaiety to the scene, and reminded me of the +"Merry-go-round," the chief attraction of that defunct country fair, +and upon which even the most dignified of our friends had insisted +riding. + +After all, could it be possible that this was the very midst of war? +Was it such a terrible thing, since the air fairly rung with merriment? + +"Make room there," called a gruff voice, not far distant. + +"Stand aside! Quick now!" + +The crowd parted, and a couple of stretcher bearers with their sad +human burden put an end to my soliloquy. My afternoon was stained with +blood. On their litter they bore a lad whose bloodless lips, +fluttering eyelids, and heaving breast, bespoke unutterable suffering. + +One must have actually witnessed such sights to realise the enormity of +human agony, grasp the torment that a stupid bit of flying steel can +inflict upon a splendid human frame--so well, so happy, so full of hope +but a second since. Oh, the pity of it all! + +"Who is it?" the men whisper. + +"Belongs to the 170th. They replaced us. He was caught in the _Boyau +des Anglais_." + +"That's a wicked spot, that is!" + +"Is he one of ours?" questioned a man from an upper window, stopping an +instant in the act of polishing his gun. + +"No," answers some one. + +The enquirer recommenced his work, and with it the refrain of his song, +just where he had left off. + +"_Sur les bords de la Riviera_," sang he blithely. + +Little groups formed along the wayside. Seated on the straw they +finished their afternoon meal, touching mugs, and joking together. +Near them the artillerymen greased and verified their axles; others +brushed and curried the horses. In one spot a hair dresser had set up +his tonsorial parlor in the open, and his customers formed in line +awaiting their turns. + +Further on the _permissionaires_ blacked their boots and furbished +their raiment, making ready to leave for home. Swarms of humming birds +and bees clustered about a honeysuckle vine which clung to the +fragments of a fence near by, and whose fragrance saturated the air. + +The friend, whose regiment number we had recognised, and stopped to +see, came up from behind and touched me on the shoulder. + +"Well, of all things! What on earth are you doing here?" + +We explained our mission, and then inquired about mutual acquaintances. + +"Pistre? Why he's with the munitions in the 12xth. We'll go over and +see him. It's not far. But hold on a minute, isn't Lorrain a friend +of yours?" + +We acquiesced. + +"Well, his son's my lieutenant. I'll go and get him. He'd be too +sorry to miss you." + +He disappeared and a few moments later returned followed by his +superior, a handsome little nineteen year old officer, who came running +up, his pipe in his mouth, his drinking cup still in his hand. The lad +blushed scarlet on seeing us, for he doubtless recalled, as did I, the +times not long gone by, when I used to meet him at a music teacher's, +his long curls hanging over his wide sailor collar. + +The idea that this mere infant should have command over such a man as +our friend Nourrigat, double his age, and whose life of work and +struggle had been a marvel to us all, somewhat shocked me. + +I think the little chap felt it, for he soon left us, pleading that he +must be present at a conference of officers. + +"A brave fellow and a real man," commented Nourrigat, as the boy moved +away. "His whole company has absolute confidence in him. You can't +imagine the calm and prestige that kid possesses in the face of danger. +He's the real type of leader, he is! And let me tell you, he's pretty +hard put sometimes." + +And then in a burst of genuine enthusiasm, he continued: + +"It's wonderful to be under twenty, with a smart little figure, a +winsome smile, and a gold stripe on your sleeve. The women willingly +compare you to the Queen's pages, or Napoleon's handsome hussars. That +may be all very well in a salon, or in the drawings you see in 'La Vie +Parisienne,' but it takes something more than that to be a true +officer. He's got to know the ropes at playing miner, bombarder, +artilleryman, engineer, optician, accountant, caterer, undertaker, +hygienist, carpenter, mason--I can't tell you what all. And in each +particular job he's got to bear the terrible responsibility of human +lives; maintain the discipline and the moral standard, assure the +cohesion of his section. Moreover, he's called upon to receive orders +with calm and reserve under the most difficult and trying +circumstances, must grasp them with lightning speed and execute them +according to rules and tactics. A moment of hesitancy or +forgetfulness, and he is lost. The men will no longer follow him. I +tell you it isn't everybody that's born to be a leader!" + +"But, was he educated for the career?" we questioned. + +"I don't think so. I imagine he's just waiting for the end of the war +to continue his musical studies--that is if he comes out alive." + +"And you?" + +"I? Why I've no particular ambition. I suppose I could have gone into +the Camouflage Corps if I'd taken the trouble to ask. But what's the +use of trying to shape your own destiny?" + +"You've gotten used to this life?" + +"Not in the least. I abominate and adore it all in the same breath. +Or, to be more explicit, I admire the men and abhor the military +pictures, the thrilling and sentimental ideas of the warrior with which +the civilian head is so generously crammed. I love military servitude, +and the humble life of the men in the ranks, but I have a genuine +horror of heroes and their sublimity. + +"Just look over there," he went on, waving his hand towards a long line +of seated _poilus_ who were peacefully enjoying their pipes, while +wistfully watching the smoke curl upward. "Just look at them, aren't +they splendid? Why they've got faces like the 'Drinkers' in the +Velasquez picture. See that little fellow rolling his cigarette? +Isn't he the image of the Bacchus who forms the centre of the painting? +That's Brunot, and he's thinking about all the god-mothers whose +letters swell out his pockets. He can't make up his mind whether he +prefers the one who lives in Marseilles and who sent him candied +cherries and her photograph; or the one from Laval who keeps him well +supplied with devilled ham which he so relishes. The two men beside +him are Lemire and Lechaptois--both peasants. When they think, it's +only of their farms and their wives. That other little thin chap is a +Parisian bookkeeper. I'd like to bet that he's thinking of his wife, +and only of her. He's wondering if she's faithful to him. It's almost +become an obsession. I've never known such jealousy, it's fairly +killing him. + +"That man Ballot, just beyond"--and our friend motioned up the +line--"that man Ballot would give anything to be home behind his +watch-maker's stand. In a moment or so he'll lean over and begin a +conversation with his neighbour Thevenet. They've only one topic, and +it's been the same for two years. It's angling. They haven't yet +exhausted it. + +"All of them at bottom are heartily wishing it were over; they've had +enough of it. But they're good soldiers, just as before the war they +were good artisans. The _metier_ is sacred--as are the Family and +Duty. 'The Nation, Country, Honour' are big words for which they have +a certain repugnance. + +"'That's all rigmarole that somebody hands you when you've won the +Wooden Cross and a little garden growing over your tummy,' is the way +they put it in their argot. 'The Marseillaise, the Chant du Depart are +all right for the youngsters, and the reviews--and let me tell you, the +reviews take a lot of furbishing and make a lot of dust. That's all +they really amount to.' + +"When they sing, it's eternally 'The Mountaineers' who, as you know, +are always 'there,' 'Sous les Ponts de Paris,' 'Madelon' and other +sentimental compositions, and if by accident, in your desire to please, +you were prone to compare them to the heroes of Homer, it's more than +likely your pains would be rewarded by the first missile on which they +could lay their hands and launch in your direction. They will not +tolerate mockery. + +"No"--he went on, filling his pipe, and enunciating between each puff. +"No, they are neither supermen nor heroes; no more than they are +drunkards or foul mouthed blackguards. No, they are better than all +that--they are men, real men, who do everything they do well; be it +repairing a watch, cabinet-making, adding up long columns of figures or +peeling potatoes, mounting guard, or going over the top! They do the +big things as though they were small, the small things as though they +were big! + +"Two days ago the captain sent for two men who had been on patrol duty +together. He had but one decoration to bestow and both chaps were in +hot discussion as to who should _not_ be cited for bravery. + +"'Now, boys, enough of this,' said the captain. 'Who was leading, and +who first cut the German barbed wire?' + +"'Dubois.' + +"'Well then, Dubois, what's all this nonsense? The cross is yours.' + +"'No, sir, if you please, that would be idiotic! I'm a foundling, +haven't any family. What's a war cross more or less to me? Now Paul +here keeps a cafe; just think of the pleasure it will give his +clientele to see him come back decorated.' + +"The captain who knows his men, understood Dubois' sincerity, and so +Paul got the medal. + +"I believe it was Peguy who said that 'Joan of Arc' has the same +superiority over other saints, as the man who does his military service +has over those who are exempt.' But it's only the soldiers who really +understand that, and when they say _On les aura_, it means something +more from their lips, than when uttered by a lady over her tea-cups, or +a reporter in his newspaper." + +During this involuntary monologue we had strolled along the road which +Nourrigat had originally indicated as the direction of our friend +Pistre. Presently he led us into the church, a humble little village +sanctuary. A shell had carried away half the apse, and sadly damaged +the altar. The belfry had been demolished and the old bronze bell +split into four pieces had been carefully fitted together by some +loving hand, and stood just inside the doorway. + +St. Anthony of Padua had been beheaded, and of St. Roch there remained +but one foot and half his dog. Yet, a delightful sensation of peace +and piety reigned everywhere. From the confessional rose the murmur of +voices, and the improvised altar was literally buried beneath garlands +of roses. + +In what had once been a chapel, a soldier now sat writing. His note +books were spread before him on a table, a telephone was at his elbow. + +Chalk letters on a piece of broken slate indicate that this is the +"_Bureau de la 22e_." + +An old bent and withered woman, leaning on a cane, issued from this +office-chapel as we approached. + +"Why that's mother Tesson," exclaimed Nourrigat. "Good evening, +mother; how's your man to-day?" + +"Better, sir. Much better, thank you. They've taken very good care of +him at your hospital." + +The old couple had absolutely refused to evacuate their house. The +Sous-Prefet, the Prefet, all the authorities had come and insisted, but +to no avail. + +"We've lost everything," she would explain. "Our three cows, our +chickens, our pigs. Kill us if you like, but don't force us to leave +home. We worked too hard to earn it!" + +And so they had hung on as an oyster clings to its rock. One shell had +split their house in twain, another had flattened out the hayloft. The +old woman lay on her bed crippled with rheumatism, her husband a victim +of gall stones. Their situation was truly most distressing. + +But there were the soldiers. Not any special company or +individual--but the soldiers, the big anonymous mass--who took them in +charge and passed them on from one to another. + +"We leave father and mother Tesson to your care," was all they said to +the new comers as they departed. But that was sufficient, and so the +old couple were nursed, clothed and fed by those whom one would suppose +had other occupations than looking after the destitute. + +[Illustration: A VILLAGE ON THE FRONT] + +Three times the house was brought to earth. Three times they rebuilt +it. The last time they even put in a stove so that the old woman would +not have to bend over to reach her hearth. New beds were made and +installed, the garden dug and planted. The old man was operated upon +at the Division Hospital, and when he became convalescent they shared +the contents of their home packages with him. + +Who were they? This one or that one? Mother Tesson would most surely +have been at a loss to name the lad who returned from his furlough +bringing two hens and a rooster to start her barnyard. She vaguely +remembered that he was from the south, on account of his accent, and +that he must have travelled across all France with his cage of chickens +in his hand. + +They entered her home, smoked a pipe by her fireside, helped her to +wash the dishes or shell peas; talked a moment with her old man and +left, saying _au revoir_. + +Another would come back greeting her with a cordial "_Bonjour, mere +Tesson_." + +"Good day, my son," she would reply. + +And it was this constantly changing new found son who would chop wood, +draw water from the well, write a letter that would exempt them from +taxes, or make a demand for help from the American Committees. + +Thus the aged pair had lived happily, loved and respected, absolutely +without want, and shielded from all material worry. And when some poor +devil who has spent four sleepless nights in the trenches, on his +return steals an hour or two from his well earned, much craved sleep, +in order to hoe their potato patch, one would doubtless be astonished +to hear such a man exclaim by way of excuse for his conduct-- + +"Oh, the poor old souls! Just think of it! At their age. What a +pity." + + +We found Pistre making a careful toilet with the aid of a tin pail full +of water. + +"This is a surprise, on my soul!" + +We hastened to give him news of his family and friends. + +Presently he turned towards Nourrigat. + +"How about your regiment? Stationary?" + +"I fancy so. We were pretty well thinned out. We're waiting for +reinforcements." + +"What's become of Chenu, and Morlet and Panard?" + +"Gone! all of them." + +"Too bad! They were such good fellows!" + +And our friends smiled, occupied but with the thought of the living +present. Paris, their friends, their families, their professions, all +seemed to be forgotten, or completely over-shadowed by the habitual +daily routine of marches and halts, duties and drudgery. They were no +longer a great painter and a brilliant barrister. They were two +soldiers; two atoms of that formidable machine which shall conquer the +German; they were as two monks in a monastery--absolutely oblivious to +every worldly occupation. + +We understand, we feel quite certain that they will be ours again--but +later--when this shall all be over--if God spares them to return. + +At that same instant two boys appeared at the entrance to the +courtyard. They may have been respectively ten and twelve years of +age. The perspiration trickled from their faces, and they were bending +beneath the weight of a huge bundle each carried on his back. + +"Hello, there, fellows," called one of them. + +A soldier appeared on the threshold. + +"Here Lefranc--here are your two boxes of sardines, and your snuff. +There isn't any more plum jam to be had. Oh, yes, and here's your +writing paper." + +The child scribbled something in an old account book. + +"That makes fifty-three sous," he finally announced. + +Other soldiers now came up. + +The boys were soon surrounded by a group of eager gesticulating +_poilus_. + +"Oh, shut up, can't you? How can a fellow think if you all scream at +once? Here--Mimile"--and he turned to his aid. "Don't you give 'em a +thing." + +Then the tumult having subsided, he continued-- + +"Now then, your names, one at a time--and don't muddle me when I'm +trying to count!" + +Pistre quickly explained that this phenomenon was Popaul called +"Business"--and Mimile, his clerk, both sons of a poor widow who washed +for the soldiers. In spite of his tender years "Business" had +developed a tendency for finance that bespoke a true captain of +industry. He had commenced by selling the men newspapers, and then +having saved enough to buy first one and then a second bicycle, the +brothers went twice a day to Villers Cotterets, some fifteen miles +distant, in quest of the orders given them by the soldiers. At first +the dealers tried to have this commerce prohibited, but as the lads +were scrupulously honest, and their percentage very modest, the +Commandant not only tolerated, but protected them. + +Mimile was something of a Jonah, having twice been caught by bits of +shrapnel, which necessitated his being cared for at the dressing +station. + +"All his own fault too," exclaimed Business, shrugging his shoulders. +"He's no good at diving. Doesn't flatten out quick enough. Why I used +to come right over the road last Winter when the bombardment was on +full tilt. I was then working for the Legion and the Chasseurs. No +cinch let me tell you! It used to be--'Popaul here--Popaul +there--where's my tobacco? How about my eau-de-Cologne?' There wasn't +any choice with those fellows. It was furnish the goods or bust--and I +never lost them a sou's worth of merchandise either!" + +Business knew everything and everybody; all the tricks of the trade, +all the tricks of the soldiers. He had seen all the Generals, and all +the Armies from the British to the Portuguese. + +He had an intimate acquaintance with all the different branches of +warfare, as well as a keen memory for slang and patois. He nourished +but one fond hope in his bosom--a hope which in moments of expansion he +imparts, if he considers you worthy of his confidence. + +"In four years I'll volunteer for the aviation corps." + +"In four years? That's a long way off, my lad. That's going some, I +should say," called a _poilu_ who had overheard the confession. + +"Look here, Business, did I hear you say it won't be over in four +years?" asked another. + +"Over? Why, it'll have only just begun. It was the Americans on the +motor trucks who told me so, and I guess they ought to know!" + +We watched him distribute his packages, make change and take down his +next day's orders, in a much soiled note-book, and with the aid of a +stubby pencil which he was obliged to wet every other letter. When he +had finished a soldier slipped over towards him. + +"I say, Paul," he called out to him, "would you do us the honour of +dining with us? We've got a package from home. Bring your brother +with you." + +Business was touched to the quick. + +"I'm your man," he answered. "And with pleasure. But you must let me +furnish the _aperatif_." + +"Just as you say, old man." + +Brusquely turning about, the future tradesman sought for his clerk who +had disappeared. + +"Mimile," he shouted, "Mimile, I say, run and tell mamma to iron our +shirts and put some polish on our shoes. I'll finish to-day's job by +myself." + + + + +IV + +Not satisfied with the havoc wrought in Soissons and other cities of +the front, the Boche is now trying to encircle the head of Paris with +the martyr's crown. The capital, lately comprised in the army zone, +has been called upon to pay its blood tax, and like all the other +heroic maimed and wounded, has none the less retained its good humour, +its confidence and its serenity. + +"It will take more than that to prevent us from going to the cafes," +smiled an old Parisian, shrugging his shoulders. + +And this sentiment was certainly general if one were to judge by the +crowd who literally invaded the _terrasses_ between five and seven, and +none of whom seemed in the least preoccupied or anxious. + +_Aperatifs_ have long since ceased to be anything save pleasant +remembrances--yet the custom itself has remained strong as a tradition. +Absinthes, bitters and their like have not only been abolished, but +replaced--and by what? Mineral waters, fruit syrups and tea! + +The waiters have been metamorphosed into herbalists. Besides, what am +I saying, there are really no more waiters, save perhaps a few decrepit +specimens whom flatfoot has relegated beyond the name, their waddling +so strangely resembles that of ducks. All the others are serving--at +the front. + +From my seat I could see two ferocious looking, medal bespangled +warriors ordering, the one a linden flower and verbena, the other +camomile with mint leaf. And along with the cups, saucers and +tea-pots, the waiter brought a miniature caraffe, which in times gone +by contained the brandy that always accompanied an order of coffee. At +present its contents was extract of orange flower! + +There may be certain smart youth who brag about having obtained kirsch +for their _tilleul_, or rum in their tea, but such myths are scarcely +credited. + +Naturally there is the grumbling element who claim that absinthe never +hurt any one, and cite as example the painter Harpignies, who lived to +be almost a hundred, having absorbed on the average of two a day until +the very last. + +But all have become so accustomed to making sacrifices that even this +one is passed off with a smile. What can one more or less mean now? +Besides, the women gave up pastry, didn't they? + +One joked the first time one ordered an infusion or a lemon vichy, one +was even a bit disgusted at the taste. And then one got used to it, +the same as one is ready to become accustomed to anything; to trotting +about the darkened streets, to going to bed early, to getting along +without sugar, and even to being bombed. + +There is a drawing by Forain which instantly obtained celebrity, and +which represents two French soldiers talking together in the trenches. + +"If only they're able to stick it out!" + +"Who?" + +"The civilians!" + +And now at the end of four long years it may be truly said of the +civilian that he has "seen it through." Not so gloriously, perhaps, +but surely quite as magnificently as his brothers at the front. + +In a country like France, where all men must join the army, the +left-behind is not an indifferent being; he is a father, a brother, a +son, or a friend; he is that feverish creature who impatiently waits +the coming of the postman, who lives in a perpetual state of agony, +trembles for his dear ones, and at the same time continues his +business, often doubling, even trebling his efforts so as to replace +the absent, and still has sufficient sense of humour to remark: + +"In these days when every one is a soldier, it's a hard job to play the +civilian." + +Last summer an American friend said to me: + +"Of course, there are some changes, but as I go about the streets day +in and day out, it hardly seems as though Paris were conscious of the +war. It is quite unbelievable." + +But that very same evening when slightly after eleven, Elizabeth and I +sauntered up the darkened, deserted Faubourg St. Honore-- + +"Think," she said, catching my arm, "just think that behind each and +every one of those facades there is some one suffering, hoping, +weeping, perhaps in secret! Think of the awful moment when all the +bells shall solemnly toll midnight, every stroke resounding like a +dirge in the souls of those who are torn with anxiety, who crave +relief, and patiently implore a sleep that refuses to come." + +The soldiers know it, know but too well the worth of all the energies +expended without thought of glory; appreciate the value of that +stoicism which consists in putting on a bold front and continuing the +every-day life, without betraying a trace of sorrow or emotion. + +Many a husband is proud of his wife, many a brother of his sister, and +many a son of his father and his mother. + +Even those, who all things considered would seem the farthest from the +war, suffer untold tortures. How often last autumn did H. and I pay +visits to old artist friends, men well into the sixties with no +material worries, and no one at the front; only to find them alone in +one corner of their huge studios, plunged in profound reveries, and +utterly unconscious of the oncoming night, or the rain that beat +against the skylights. + +"I know, I know, it's all very well to shake yourself and say you must +work. It's easy enough to recall that in 1870 Fantin Latour shut +himself up and painted fruit and flowers, and by emulation, buoyed up +perhaps by this precedent, you sit down and sketch a still life. What +greater joy than to seek out a harmony, find the delicate suave tones, +and paint it in an unctuous medium. Yes, it's a joy, but only when +head and heart are both in it! The museums too, used to be a source of +untold pleasure, but even if they were open you wouldn't go, because +the head and the heart are 'Out there' where that wondrous youth is +being mowed down--'Out there' where lies our every hope, 'Out there' +where we would like to be, all of us! 'Tis hardly the moment to paint +ripe grapes and ruddy apples, and to feel that you're only good for +that! It's stupid to be old!" + +And many, many a dear old man has passed away, unnoticed. When one +asks the cause of a death friends shrug their shoulders, + +"We scarcely know, some say one thing, some another--perhaps the war!" + +"In proportion you'll find that there are as many deaths on the +Boulevard as in the trenches," said our friend, Pierre Stevens, on +returning from Degas' funeral. + +I would you might go with me, all you who love France, into one of +those Parisian houses, where after dinner when the cloth has been +removed, the huge road maps are spread out on the dining-room table, +and every one eagerly bends over them with bated breath, while the +latest _communique_ is read. Fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and +little children, friends and relatives, solemnly, anxiously await the +name of their _secteurs_--the _secteurs_ where _their_ loved ones are +engaged. How all the letters are read, re-read and handed about, each +one seeking a hidden sense, the meaning of an allusion; how dark grows +every brow when the news is not so good--what radiant expanse at the +word victory. + +And through fourteen hundred long days this same scene has been +repeated, and no one has ever quailed. + +The theatres have cellars prepared to receive their audiences in case +of bombardment, and one of our neighbours, Monsieur Walter, has just +written asking permission in my absence to build an armoured dug-out in +the hallway of my home. + +"It is precisely the organisation of this dugout that prompts my +writing to you, _chere Madame_. + +"So much bronchitis and so many other ills have been contracted in +cellars, that I hesitate to take my children down there; but on the +other hand, I dare not leave them upstairs, where they would be +altogether too exposed. It is thus that I conceived the idea of asking +your permission to transform into a sort of 'Dug-out dormitory'--(if I +may be permitted the expression) the little passage way, which in your +house separates the dining-room from the green room. To have something +absolutely safe, it would be necessary to give the ceiling extra +support, then set steel plates in the floor of the little linen room +just above and sandbag all the windows. + +"Naturally, I have done nothing pending your consent. Useless to say, +we will put everything in good order if you return, unless you should +care to use the dug-out yourself. My wife and I shall anxiously await +your reply." + +And this in Paris, June 28th, 1918! + + +I do not know what particular epoch in world war events served as +inspiration to the author of a certain ditty, now particularly popular +among the military. But decidedly his injunction to + + "Pack all your troubles in an old kit bag, + And smile, smile, smile," + +has been followed out to the letter, in the case of the Parisian, who +has also added that other virtue "Patience" to his already long list of +qualities. + +With the almost total lack of means of communication, a dinner downtown +becomes an expedition, and a theatre party a dream of the future. + +During the Autumn twilights, on the long avenues swept by the rain, or +at street corners where the wind seizes it and turns it into miniature +water spouts, one can catch glimpses of the weary, bedraggled Parisian, +struggling beneath a rebellious umbrella, patiently waiting for a cab. +He has made up his mind to take the first that goes by. There can be +no question of discrimination. Anything will be welcome. Yes, +anything, even one of those evil-smelling antiquated hackneys drawn by +a decrepit brute who will doubtless stumble and fall before having +dragged you the first five hundred yards, thereby bringing down the +pitiless wrath of his aged driver, not only on his own, but your head. + +Taxis whizz by at a rate which leads one to suppose that they had a +rendezvous with dame Fortune. Their occupants are at the same time +objects of envy and admiration, and one calls every latent cerebral +resource to his aid, in order to guess where on earth they were to be +found empty. And how consoling is the disdainful glance of the +chauffeur who, having a fare, is hailed by the unfortunate, desperate +pedestrian that has a pressing engagement at the other end of town. + +If one of them ever shows signs of slowing up, it is immediately +pounced upon and surrounded by ten or a dozen damp human beings. + +Triumphantly the driver takes in their humble, supplicating glances +(glances which have never been reproduced save in pictures of the +Martyrs), and then clearing his throat he questions: + +"First of all I've got to know where you want to go. I'm bound for +Grenelle." + +Nobody ever wants to go to Grenelle. + +If some one tactfully suggests the Avenue de Messine, he is instantly +rebuffed by a steady stare that sends him back, withered, into the +second row of the group. A shivering woman, taking all her courage +into her hands, suggests the Palais d'Orsay, but is ignored while a man +from behind calls forth "Five francs if you'll take me to the Avenue du +Bois." + +The chauffeur's glance wavers, it seems possible that he might +entertain the proposal. The gentleman steps forward, already has his +hand on the door handle, when from somewhere in the darkness, helmet +clad, stick in his hand, kit bag over one shoulder, a _poilu +permissionaire_ elbows his way through the crowd. There is no +argument, he merely says, + +"Look here, old man, I've got to make the 6.01 at the Gare du Nord; +drive like hell!" + +"You should worry. We'll get there." + +Now, the Gare du Nord is certainly not in the direction of Grenelle. +On the contrary it is diametrically opposite, geographically speaking. +But nobody seems to mind. The chauffeur is even lauded for his +patriotic sentiments, and one good-hearted, bedraggled creature +actually murmurs: + +"I only hope the dear fellow does make it!" + +"What does it matter if we do have to wait a bit--that's all we've +really got to do, after all," answers an elderly man moving away. + +"It would be worse than this if we were in the trenches," chimes in +some one else. + +"My son is in water up to his waist out there in Argonne," echoes a +third, as the group disbands. + +And yet people do go to the theatre. + +Gemier has made triumphant productions, with the translations of the +Shakesperean Society, and true artist that he is, has created +sensational innovations by way of _mise-en-scene_ in the "Merchant of +Venice" and "Anthony and Cleopatra." + +It's a far cry now to the once all too popular staging a la Munich. + +Lamy and Le Gallo were excruciatingly funny in a farce called "My +God-son," but the real type of theatrical performance which is +unanimously popular, which will hold its own to the very end, is the +Review. + +How on earth the authors manage to scrape up enough comic subjects, +when sadness is so generally prevalent, and how they succeed in making +their public laugh spontaneously and heartily, without the slightest +remorse or _arriere pensee_, has been a very interesting question to me. + +Naturally, their field is limited, and there are certain subjects which +are tabooed completely; so the trifling event, the ridiculous side of +Parisian life, have come to the fore. Two special types, the slacker +and the profiteer, or _nouveau riche_, are very generally and very +thoroughly maltreated. If I am any judge, it is the _embusque_, who is +the special pet, and after him come the high cost of living, the lack +of fuel, the obscurity of the streets, the length of women's skirts, +etc.--all pretexts for more or less amusing topical songs. + +As to the war itself, they have made something very special of it. +Thanks to them the trenches become a very delightful spot populated by +a squadron of nimble footed misses, who, booted, spurred, +helmet-crowned and costumed in horizon blue, sing of the heroism and +the splendid good humour of the _poilu_ while keeping time to a martial +rhythm. + +There is invariably a heavy comedian who impersonates the jovial +_chef_--preparing a famous sauce in which to dish up "Willy" the day he +shall be captured; the soldier on furlough who is homesick for the +front; the wounded man who stops a moment to sing (with many frills and +flourishes) the joys of shedding one's blood for his country. + +Attacks are made to well known accompaniments--Bombardments perpetrated +in the wings by the big bass drum, and both though symbolic, are about +as unreal as possible. + +Nobody is illusioned, no one complains. On the contrary, they seem +delighted with the show they have paid to see. Furthermore, the better +part of the audience is composed of soldiers, wounded men, +convalescents, and _permissionaires_, and they all know what to expect. + +Near me sat two of the latter--healthy looking lads, wind burned and +tanned, their uniforms sadly faded and stained, their helmets scarred +and indented. Both wore the Croix de Guerre, and the Fourragere or +shoulder strap, showing the colours of the military medal, which at +that time being quite a novelty, caught and held the eyes of all who +surrounded them. + +From scraps of their conversation I learned that they had left the +battle front of the Somme that very morning, were merely crossing +Paris, taking a midnight train which would land them home some time the +following day. + +I even managed to gather that their papers had reached them at the very +moment when they came out of the trenches, that they had not even had +time to brush up, so great was their fear of missing the last train. + +Less than twenty-four hours ago, then, they had really been in +it--standing out there in the mud, surrounded by rats and the putrid +odour of dead bodies, the prey not only of the elements, but of enemy +bombs and shells, expecting the end at any instant; or curled up, half +frozen in a humid, slimy dug-out, not long enough to permit stretching +out--scarcely deep enough to be called a shelter. + +Would they not be disgusted? Ready to protest against this disfigured +travesty of their war? + +I feel quite certain they never gave it a thought. Blissfully +installed in their comfortable orchestra seats they didn't intend to +miss a word of the entire performance. And when finally in an endless +chain of verses, a comedian, mimicking a _poilu_ with his kit on his +back, recited his vicissitudes with the army police, and got mixed up +in his interpretation of R.A.T., G.Q.G.--etc., they burst into round +after round of applause, calling and recalling their favourite, while +their sides shook with laughter, and the tears rolled down their cheeks. + +These same faces took on a nobly serious aspect, while a tall, pale, +painted damsel draped in a peplum, evoked in ringing tones the glorious +history of the tri-colour. I looked about me--many a manly countenance +was wrinkled with emotion, and women on all sides sniffed audibly. It +was then that I understood, as never before, what a philosopher friend +calls "the force of symbols." + +An exact scenic reproduction of the war would have shocked all those +good people; just as this impossible theatrical deformation, this +potpourri of songs, dances and orchestral tremolos charmed and +delighted their care-saturated souls. + +Little girls in Alsatian costume, and the eternally sublime Red Cross +nurse played upon their sentimentality; the slacker inspired them with +disgust; they shrieked with delight at the _nouveau riche_; and their +enthusiasm knew no bounds when towards eleven-fifteen arrived the +"Stars and Stripes" accompanied by a double sextette of khaki-coloured +female ambulance drivers. Tradition has willed it thus. + +If the war continue any length of time doubtless the United States will +also become infuriated with the slacker, and I tremble to think of the +special brand of justice that woman in particular will have in store +for the man who does not really go to the front, or who, thanks to +intrigue and a uniform, is spending his days in peace and safety. + +Alas, there are _embusques_ in all countries, just as there are +_nouveaux-riches_. In Paris these latter are easily discernible. They +have not yet had time to become accustomed to their new luxuries; +especially the women, who wear exaggerated styles, and flaunt their +furs and jewels, which deceive no one. + +[Illustration: DOOR OF MADAME HUARD'S HOME--PARIS] + +"They buy everything, so long as it is expensive," explained an +antiquity dealer. "They want everything, and want it at once!" + +The few old artisans still to be found who are versed in the art of +repairing antiques, are rushed to death, and their ill humour is almost +comic, for in spite of the fact that they are being well paid for their +work, they cannot bear to see these precious treasures falling into the +hands of the vulgar. + +"This is for Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So," they inform you with an ironical +smile, quite certain that you have never heard the name before. + +It would almost seem as if a vast wave of prosperity had enveloped the +country, were one to judge of the stories of millions made in a minute, +fortunes sprung up over night, new factories erected where work never +ceases; prices paid for real estate, monster strokes on the Bourse. +Little wonder then that in May just past, with the Germans scarcely +sixty miles from Paris, the sale of Degas' studio attained the +extraordinary total of nearly two million dollars; an Ingres drawing +which in 1889 brought eight hundred and fifty francs, selling for +fourteen thousand, and a Greco portrait for which Degas himself gave +four hundred and twenty francs in 1894, fetching eighty-two thousand +francs. + +Yes, such things happen even in France, and one hears but too often of +fortunes accumulated in the past four years--but alas! how much more +numerous are those which have been lost. The _nouveaux-pauvres_ far +outnumber the _nouveaux-riches_; but these former seem to go into +hiding. + +The Parisian bourgeois was essentially a property owner. His delight +was in houses; the stone-front six-story kind, the serious rent-paying +proposition, containing ten or a dozen moderate-priced apartments, and +two good stores, from which he derived a comfortable income. Such was +the ultimate desire of the little shop-keeper, desire which spurred him +on to sell and to economise. + +A house, some French rentes, government bonds (chiefly Russian in +recent years) and a few city obligations, were the extent of his +investments, and formed not only the nucleus but the better part of +many a French fortune. + +Imagine then the predicament of such people under the moratorium. Few +and far between are the tenants who have paid a sou of rent since +August, 1914, and the landlord has no power to collect. Add to this +the ever increasing price of living, and you will understand why many +an elderly Parisian who counted on spending his declining years in +peace and plenty, is now hard at work earning his daily bread. + +Made in a moment of emergency, evidently with the intention that it be +of short duration, this law about rentals has become the most +perplexing question in the world. Several attempts have been made +towards a solution, but all have remained fruitless, unsanctioned; and +the property owners are becoming anxious. + +That men who have been mobilised shall not pay--that goes without +saying. But the others. How about them? + +I happen to know a certain house in a bourgeois quarter of the city +about which I have very special reasons for being well informed. + +Both stores are closed. The one was occupied by a book-seller, the +other by a boot-maker. Each dealer was called to the army, and both of +them have been killed. Their estates will not be settled until after +the war. + +The first floor was rented to a middle-aged couple. The husband, +professor in a city school, is now prisoner in Germany. His wife died +during the Winter just passed. + +On the second landing one entered the home of a cashier in a big +National Bank. He was the proud possessor of a wife and three pretty +babies. The husband, aged thirty-two, left for the front with the rank +of Lieutenant, the first day of the mobilisation. His bank kindly +consented to continue half salary during the war. The lieutenant was +killed at Verdun. His employers offered a year and a half's pay to the +young widow--that is to say, about six thousand dollars, which she +immediately invested in five per cent government rentes. A +lieutenant's yearly pension amounts to about three hundred dollars, and +the Legion of Honour brings in fifty dollars per annum. + +They had scarcely had time to put anything aside, and I doubt if he +carried a life insurance. At any rate the education of these little +boys will take something more than can be economised after the bare +necessities of life have been provided. So how is the brave little +woman even to think of paying four years' rent, which when computed +would involve more than two-thirds of her capital? + +The third floor tenant is an elderly lady who let herself be persuaded +to put her entire income into bonds of the City of Vienna, Turkish +debt, Russian roubles, and the like. I found her stewing up old +newspapers in a greasy liquid, preparing thus a kind of briquette, the +only means of heating which she could afford. Yet the prospect of a +Winter without coal, possibly without bread, did not prevent her from +welcoming me with a smile, and explaining her case with grace and +distinction, which denoted the most exquisite breeding. Her maid, she +apologised as she bowed me out, was ill of rheumatism contracted during +the preceding Winter. + +The top apartment was occupied by a government functionary and his +family. As captain in the infantry he has been at the front since the +very beginning. His wife's family are from Lille, and like most +pre-nuptial arrangements when the father is in business, the daughter +received but the income of her dowry, which joined to her husband's +salary permitted a cheerful, pleasant home, and the prospect of an +excellent education for the children. + +The salary ceased with the Captain's departure to the front; the wife's +income stopped when the Germans entered Lille a few weeks later. They +now have but his officer's pay, approximately eighty dollars per month, +as entire financial resource. Add to this the death of a mother and +four splendid brothers, the constant menace of becoming a widow, and I +feel certain that the case will give food for reflection. + +All these unfortunate women know each other; have guessed their mutual +misfortunes, though, of course, they never mention them. Gathered +about a single open fire-place whose welcome blaze is the result of +their united economy, they patiently ply their needles at whatever +handiwork they are most deft, beading bags, making filet and mesh +laces, needle-work tapestry and the like, utilising every spare moment, +in the hope of adding another slice of bread to the already too frugal +meals. + +But orders are rare, and openings for such work almost nil. To obtain +a market would demand business training which has not been part of +their tradition, which while it tempts, both intimidates and revolts +them. Certain desperate ones would branch out in spite of all--but +they do not know how, dare not seem so bold. + +And so Winter will come anew--Winter with bread and sugar rations at a +maximum; Winter with meat prices soaring far above their humble pocket +books. + +Soup and vegetable stews quickly become the main article of diet. Each +succeeding year the little mothers have grown paler, and more frail. +The children have lost their fat, rosy cheeks. But let even a local +success crown our arms, let the _communique_ bring a little bit of real +news, tell of fresh laurels won, let even the faintest ray of hope for +the great final triumph pierce this veil of anxiety--and every heart +beat quickens, the smiles burst forth; lips tremble with emotion. +These people know the price, and the privilege of being French, the +glory of belonging to that holy nation. + + + + +V + +When after a lengthy search our friends finally discover our Parisian +residence, one of the first questions they put is, "Why on earth is +your street so narrow?" + +The reason is very simple. Merely because la rue Geoffrey L'Asnier was +built before carriages were invented, the man who gave it its name +having doubtless dwelt there during the fourteenth or fifteenth +century, as one could easily infer after inspecting the choir of our +parish church. But last Good Friday, the Germans in trying out their +super-cannon, bombarded St. Gervais. The roof caved in, killing and +wounding many innocent persons, and completely destroying that choir. + +Elsewhere a panic might have ensued, but residents of our quarter are +not so easily disturbed. The older persons distinctly recall the +burning of the Hotel de Ville and the Archbishop's Palace in 1870. And +did they not witness the battles in the streets, all the horrors of the +Commune, after having experienced the agonies and privations of the +Siege? I have no doubt that among them there are persons who were +actually reduced to eating rats, and I feel quite certain that many a +man used his gun to advantage from between the shutters of his own +front window. + +Their fathers had seen the barricades of 1848 and 1830, their +grandfathers before them the Reign of Terror--and so on one might +continue as far back as the Norman invasion. + +The little cafe on the rue du Pont Louis-Philippe serves as meeting +place for all the prophets and strategists of the quarter, who have no +words sufficient to express their disdain for the Kaiser's heavy +artillery. + +"It's all bluff, they think they can frighten us! Why, I, Madame, I +who am speaking to you--I saw the Hotel de Ville, the Theatre des +Nations, the grain elevators, all in flames and all at once, the whole +city seemed to be ablaze. Well, do you think that prevented the +Parisians from fishing in the Seine, or made this cafe shut its doors? +There was a barricade at either end of this street--the blinds were up +and you could hear the bullets patter against them. The insurgents, +all covered with powder, would sneak over and get a drink--and when +finally their barricade was taken, it was the Republican soldiers who +sat in our chairs and drank beer and lemonade! _Their_ guns, humph! +Let them bark!" + +It is at this selfsame cafe that gather all the important men of our +district, much as the American would go to his club. They are serious +_bourgeois_, well along in the fifties, just a trifle ridiculous, +perhaps on account of their allure and their attire. But should one +grow to know them better he would soon realise that most of them are +shrewd, hard-working business men, each burdened with an anxiety or a +sorrow which he never mentions. + +They too love strategy. Armies represented by match safes, dominoes +and toothpicks have become an obsession--their weakness. They are +thorough Frenchmen and their critical sense must be unbridled. They +love their ideas and their systems. They would doubtless not hesitate +to advise Foch. Personally, if I were Foch, I should turn a deaf ear. +But if I were a timid, vacillating, pessimistic spirit, still in doubt +as to the final outcome, I should most certainly seat myself at a +neighbouring table and listen to their conversation that I might come +away imbued with a little of their patience, abnegation, and absolute +confidence. + +Nor does the feminine opinion deviate from this course. I found the +same ideas prevalent in the store of a little woman who sold umbrellas. +Before the war Madame Coutant had a very flourishing trade, but now her +sales are few and far between, while her chief occupation is repairing. +She is a widow without children, and no immediate relative in the war. +Because of this, at the beginning she was looked down upon and her +situation annoyed and embarrassed her greatly. But by dint of search, +a most voluminous correspondence, and perhaps a little bit of intrigue, +she finally managed to unearth two very distant cousins, peasant boys +from the Cevennes, whom she frankly admitted never having seen, but to +whom she regularly sent packages and post cards; about whom she was at +liberty to speak without blushing, since one of them had recently been +cited for bravery and decorated with the _Croix de Guerre_. + +This good woman devotes all the leisure and energy her trade leaves +her, to current events. Of course, there is the official _communique_ +which may well be considered as the national health bulletin; but +besides that, there is still another, quite as indispensable and fully +as interesting, made up of the criticism of local happenings, and +popular presumption. + +This second _communique_ comes to us direct from Madame Coutant's, +where a triumvirate composed of the scissors-grinder, the +woman-who-rents-chairs-in-St.-Gervais, the sacristan's wife, the +concierge of the Girls' School, and the widow of an office boy in the +City Hall, get their heads together and dispense the news. + +The concierges and cooks while out marketing, pick it up and start it +on its rounds. + +"We are progressing North of the Marne"; "Two million Americans have +landed in France," and similar statements shall be accepted only when +elucidated, enlarged and embellished by Madame Coutant's group. Each +morning brings a fresh harvest of happenings, but each event is +certified or contradicted by a statement from some one who is "Out +there," and sees and knows. + +Under such circumstances an attack in Champagne may be viewed from a +very different angle when one hears that Bultot, the electrician, is +telephone operator in that region; that the aforesaid Bultot has +written to his wife in most ambiguous phraseology, and that she has +brought the letter to Madame Coutant's for interpretation. + +But it is more especially the local moral standards which play an +important part and are subject to censorship in Madame Coutant's +circle. The individual conduct of the entire quarter is under the most +rigid observation. Lives must be pure as crystal, homes of glass. It +were better to attempt to hide nothing. + +That Monsieur L., the retired druggist, is in sad financial straits, +there is not the slightest doubt; no one is duped by the fact that he +is trying to put on a bold face under cover of war-time economy. + +That the grocer walks with a stick and drags his leg on the ground to +make people think he is only fit for the auxiliary service, deceives no +one; his time will come, there is but to wait. + +Let a woman appear with an unaccustomed furbelow, or a family of a +workman that is earning a fat salary, eat two succulent dishes the same +week, public opinion will quickly make evident its sentiments, and +swiftly put things to rights. + +The war must be won, and each one must play his part--do his bit, no +matter how humble. The straight and narrow paths of virtue have been +prescribed and there is no better guide than the fear of mutual +criticism. That is one reason why personally I have never sought to +ignore Madame Coutant's opinion. + +It goes without saying that the good soul has attributed the +participation of the United States in this war entirely to my efforts. +And the nature of the advice that I am supposed to have given President +Wilson would make an everlasting fortune for a humourist. But in spite +of it all, I am proud to belong to them; proud of being an old resident +in their quarter. + +"Strictly serious people," was the opinion passed upon us by the +sacristan's wife for the edification of my new housemaid. + +It is a most interesting population to examine in detail, made up of +honest, skilful Parisian artisans, _frondeurs_ at heart, jesting with +everything, but terribly ticklish on the point of honour. + +"They ask us to 'hold out'," exclaims the laundress of the rue de Jouy; +"as if we'd ever done anything else all our lives!" + +These people were capable of the prodigious. They have achieved the +miraculous! + +With the father gone to the front, his pay-roll evaporated, it was a +case of stop and think. Of course, there was the "Separation fee," +about twenty-five cents a day for the mother, ten cents for each child. +The French private received but thirty cents _a month_ at the beginning +of the war. The outlook was anything but cheerful, the possibility of +making ends meet more than doubtful. So work it was--or rather, extra +work. Eyes were turned towards the army as a means of livelihood. +With so many millions mobilised, the necessity for shirts, underwear, +uniforms, etc., became evident. + +Three or four mothers grouped together and made application for three +or four hundred shirts. The mornings were consecrated to house work, +which must be done in spite of all, the children kept clean and the +food well prepared. But from one o'clock until midnight much might be +accomplished; and much was. + +The ordinary budget for a woman of the working class consists in +earning sufficient to feed, clothe, light and heat the family, besides +supplying the soldier husband with tobacco and a monthly parcel of +goodies. Even the children have felt the call, and after school, which +lasts from eight until four, little girls whose legs must ache from +dangling, sit patiently on chairs removing bastings, or sewing on +buttons, while their equally tiny brothers run errands, or watch to see +that the soup does not boil over. + +Then when all is done, when with all one's heart one has laboured and +paid everything and there remains just enough to send a money-order to +the _poilu_, there is still a happiness held in reserve--a delight as +keen as any one can feel in such times; i.e., the joy of knowing that +the "Separation fee" has not been touched. It is a really and truly +income; it is a dividend as sound as is the State! It has almost +become a recompense. + +[Illustration: VIEW OF ST. GERVAIS FROM MADAME HUARD'S PARIS HOME +(BOMBARDED BY GERMAN SUPER CANNON, APRIL, 1918)] + +What matter now the tears, the mortal anxieties that it may have cost? +For once again, to quote the laundress of the rue de Jouy-- + +"Trials? Why, we'd have had them anyway, even if there hadn't been a +war!" + +In these times of strictest economy, it would perhaps be interesting to +go deeper into the ways of those untiring thrifty ants who seem to know +how "To cut a centime in four" and extract the quintessence from a +bone. My concierge is a precious example for such a study, having +discovered a way of bleaching clothes without boiling, and numerous +recipes for reducing the high cost of living to almost nothing. + +It was in her lodge that I was first introduced to a drink made from +ash leaves, and then tasted another produced by mixing hops and +violets, both to me being equally as palatable as certain brands of +grape juice. + +Butter, that unspeakable luxury, she had replaced by a savoury mixture +of tried out fats from pork and beef kidney, seasoned with salt, +pepper, allspice, thyme and laurel, into which at cooling was stirred a +glass of milk. Not particularly palatable on bread but as a seasoning +to vegetable soup, that mighty French stand-by, I found it most +excellent. Believe me, I've tried it! + +Jam has long been prepared with honey, and for all other sweetening +purposes she used a syrup of figs that was not in the least +disagreeable. The ration of one pound of sugar per person a month, and +brown sugar at that, does not go very far. + +The cold season is the chief preoccupation of all Parisians, and until +one has spent a war winter in the capital he is incapable of realising +what can be expected from a scuttle full of coal. + +First of all, one commences by burning it for heating purposes, +rejoicing in every second of its warmth and glow. One invites one's +friends to such a gala! Naturally the coal dust has been left at the +bottom of the recipient, the sack in which it was delivered is well +shaken for stray bits, and this together with the sittings is mixed +with potter's clay and sawdust, which latter has become a most +appreciable possession in our day. The whole is then stirred together +and made into bricks or balls, which though they burn slowly, burn +surely. + +The residue of this combustible is still so precious, that when +gathered up, ground anew with paper and sawdust, and at length +amalgamated with a mucilaginous water composed of soaked flax-seed, one +finally obtains a kind of pulp that one tries vainly to make ignite, +but which obstinately refuses to do so, though examples to the contrary +have been heard of. + +The fireless cooker has opened new horizons, for, of course, there is +still enough gas to start the heating. But none but the wealthy can +afford such extravagance, so each one has invented his own model. My +concierge's husband is renowned for his ingenuity in this particular +branch, and people from the other side of the Isle St. Louis, or the +rue St. Antoine take the time to come and ask his advice. It seems to +me he can make fireless cookers out of almost anything. Antiquated +wood chests, hat boxes, and even top hats themselves have been utilised +in his constructions. + +"These are real savings-banks for heat"--he explains pompously--for he +loves to tackle the difficult--even adjectively. His shiny bald pate +is scarce covered by a Belgian fatigue cap, whose tassel bobs in the +old man's eyes, and when he carried his long treasured gold to the +bank, he refused to take its equivalent in notes. It was necessary to +have recourse to the principal cashier, who assured him that if France +needed money she would call upon him first. Then and then only would +he consent to accept. + +He is a Lorrainer--a true Frenchman, who in the midst of all the +sorrows brought on by the conflict, has known two real joys: the first +when his son was promoted and made lieutenant on the battle field; the +second when his friends the Vidalenc and the Lemots made up a quarrel +that had lasted over twelve years. + +"I was in a very embarrassing position," he explained, "for I held both +families in equal esteem. Fortunately the war came and settled +matters. When I say fortunately, of course, you understand, Madame, +what I mean. '_A quelquechose malheur est bon_.'" + +And in truth the original cause of difference between the Lemots, +drapers, and the Vidalenc, coal and wood dealers, had been lost in the +depths of time. But no hate between Montague and Capulet was ever more +bitter. The gentle flame of antipathy was constantly kept kindled by a +glance in passing, a half audible sneer, and if the Vidalenc chose the +day of the White Sale to hang out and beat their stock of coal sacks, +one might be certain that the Lemots would be seized with a fit of +cleanliness on the coldest of winter days, and would play the hose up +and down the street in the freezing air about an hour or so before the +Vidalencs would have to unload their coal wagons. + +The younger generation, on leaving school every afternoon, would also +see to it that the family feud be properly recognised, and many and +bitter were the mutual pummelings. + +Reconciliation seemed an impossibility, and yet both were hardworking, +honest families, economical and gracious, rejoicing in the friendship +of the entire quarter, who, of course, were much pained by the +situation. + +Even the mobilisation failed to bring a truce and the unforgettable +words of "Sacred Unity" fell upon arid ground. + +But how strange, mysterious and far reaching are the designs of +Providence. Young Vidalenc was put into a regiment that was brigaded +with the one to which belonged Monsieur Lemot. + +The two men met "Out there," and literally fell into each other's arms. + +A letter containing a description of this event arrived in the two +shops at almost the same moment. That is to say the postman first went +to Father Vidalenc's, but by the time the old man had found his +spectacles, Madame Lemot had received her missive, and both were +practically read at once. Then came the dash for the other's shop, the +paper waving wildly in the air. + +Of course, they met in the street, stopped short, hesitated, collapsed, +wept and embraced, to the utter amazement of the entire quarter who +feared not only that something fatal had happened, but also for their +mental safety. + +Later in the day the news got abroad, and by nightfall every one had +heard that Father Vidalenc had washed Madame Lemot's store windows, and +that Madame Lemot had promised to have an eye to Vidalenc's accounts, +which had been somewhat abandoned since the departure of his son. + +When Lemot returned on furlough there was a grand dinner given in his +honour at Vidalenc's, and when Vidalenc dined at Lemot's, it was +assuredly amusing to see the latter's children all togged out in their +Sunday best, a tri-colour bouquet in hand, waiting on their doorstep to +greet and conduct the old man. + +Unfortunately there was no daughter to give in matrimony so that they +might marry and live happily ever after. But on my last trip home I +caught a glimpse of an unknown girlish face behind Madame Lemot's +counter, and somebody told me it was her niece. + +It would not only be unfair, but a gross error on my part to attempt to +depict life in our quarter without mentioning one of the most notable +inhabitants--namely Monsieur Alexandre Clouet, taylor, so read the sign +over the door of the shop belonging to this pompous little person--who +closed that shop on August 2nd, 1914, and rallied to the colours. But +unlike the vulgar herd he did not scribble in huge chalk letters all +over the blinds--"The boss has joined the army." No, indeed, not he! + +Twenty four hours later appeared a most elaborate meticulous sign which +announced: + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + wishes to inform his numerous + customers that he has joined the ranks + of the 169th infantry, and shall do + his duty as a Frenchman. + + +His wife returned to her father's home, and it was she who pasted up +the series of neat little bulletins. First we read: + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + is in the trenches but his health is + excellent. + + He begs his customers and friends + to send him news of themselves. + Postal Sector 24X. + + +I showed the little sign to my friends who grew to take an interest in +Monsieur Clouet's personal welfare, and passing by his shop they would +copy down the latest news and forward it to me, first at Villiers, and +afterwards to the States. + +It is thus that I learned that Monsieur Clouet, gloriously wounded, had +been cared for at a hospital in Cahors, and later on that he had +recovered, rejoined his depot and finally returned to the front. + +One of my first outings during my last trip sent me in the direction of +Monsieur Clouet's abode. I was decidedly anxious to know what had +become of him. To my surprise I found the shop open, but a huge +announcement hung just above the entrance. + + MONSIEUR CLOUET + + gloriously wounded and decorated + with the Military Medal, regrets to + state that in future it will be + impossible for him to continue giving his + personal attention to his business. + + His wife and his father-in-law will + hereafter combine their efforts to give + every satisfaction to his numerous + customers. + + +I entered. For the moment the wife and the father-in-law were +combining their efforts to convince a very stout, elderly gentleman +that check trousers would make him look like a sylph. + +"Ah, Madame, what a surprise," she cried, on seeing me. + +"But your husband?" I queried. "Is it really serious--do tell me!" + +"Alas, Madame, he says he'll never put his foot in the shop again. You +see he's very sensitive since he was scalped, and he's afraid somebody +might know he has to wear a wig!" + + + + +VI + +The Boche aeroplane was by no means a novelty to the Parisian. Its +first apparitions over the capital (1914) were greeted with curious +enthusiasm, and those who did not have a field glass handy at the time, +later on satisfied their curiosity by a visit to the Invalides, where +every known type of enemy machine was displayed in the broad court-yard. + +The first Zeppelin raid (April 15th, 1915) happened toward midnight, +and resulted in a good many casualties, due not to the bombs dropped by +the enemy, but to the number of colds and cases of pneumonia and +bronchitis caught by the pajama-clad Parisian, who rushed out half +covered, to see the sight, thoughtlessly banging his front door behind +him. + +But the first time that we were really driven to take shelter in the +cellar was after dinner at the home of a friend who lives in an +apartment house near the Avenue du Bois. We were enjoying an impromptu +concert of chamber music, when the alarm was given, swiftly followed by +distant but very distinct detonations, which made hesitation become +imprudence. + +The descent to the basement was accomplished without undue haste, or +extraordinary commotion, save for an old Portuguese lady and her +daughter who lost their heads and unconsciously gave us a comic +interlude, worthy of any first-class movie. + +Roused from her sleep, the younger woman with self preservation +uppermost in her mind, had slipped on an outer garment, grabbed the +first thing she laid her hands on, and with hair streaming over her +back, dashed down five long flights of stairs. + +At the bottom she remembered her mother, let forth an awful shriek, and +still holding her bottle of tooth wash in her hands, jumped into the +lift and started in search of her parent. + +In the meantime, the latter on finding her daughter's bed empty, had +started towards the lower floors, crossing the upward bound lift, which +Mademoiselle was unable to stop. + +Screams of terror, excited sentences in Portuguese--in which both gave +directions that neither followed, and for a full ten minutes mother and +daughter raced up and down in the lift and on the stairway, trying +vainly to join one another. + +A young lieutenant home on leave, at length took pity on them and +finally united the two exhausted creatures who fell into each other's +arms shrieking hysterically: + +"If we must die--let us die together!" + +The concierges and the servants began arranging chairs and camp stools +around the furnace; the different tenants introduced themselves and +their guests. Almost every one was still about when the signal was +given, and this cellar where the electric lamps burned brightly soon +took on the aspect of a drawing-room, in spite of all. One lone man, +however, stood disconsolate, literally suffocating beneath a huge +cavalry cape, hooked tight up to his throat. As the perspiration soon +began rolling from his forehead, a friend seeking to put him at his +ease, suggested he open up his cloak. + +The gentleman addressed cast a glance over the assembled group, +broadened out into a smile, and exclaimed-- + +"I can't. Only got my night shirt underneath." + +The hilarity was general, and the conversation presently became bright +and sparkling with humorous anecdotes. + +The officers held their audience spellbound with fear and admiration; +the women talked hospital and dress, dress and hospital, finally +jesting about the latest restrictions. One lady told the story of a +friend who engaged a maid, on her looks and without a reference, the +which maid shortly became a menace because of her propensity for +dropping and breaking china. + +One day, drawn towards the pantry by the sound of a noise more terrible +than any yet experienced, she found the girl staring at a whole pile of +plates--ten or a dozen--which had slipped from her fingers and lay in +thousands of pieces on the floor. + +The lady became indignant and scolded. + +"Ah, if Madame were at the front, she'd see worse than that!" was the +consoling response. + +"But we're not at the front, I'll have you understand, and what's more +neither you nor I have ever been there, my girl." + +"I beg Madame's pardon, but my last place was in a hospital at Verdun, +as Madame will see when my papers arrive." + +General laughter was cut short by the sound of two explosions. + +"They're here. They've arrived. It will soon be over now," and like +commentaries were added. + +A servant popped the cork of a champagne bottle, and another passed +cakes and candied fruit. + +An elderly man who wore a decoration, approached the officers. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "excuse me for interrupting, but do any of you +know the exact depth to which an aeroplane bomb can penetrate?" + +The officers gave him a few details, which, however, did not seem to +satisfy the old fellow. His anxiety became more and more visible. + +"I wouldn't worry, sir, if I were you. There's absolutely no danger +down here." + +"Thank you for your assurance, Messieurs," said he, "but I'm not in the +least anxious about my personal safety. It's my drawings and my +collection of porcelains that are causing me such concern. I thought +once that I'd box them all up and bring them down here. But you never +can tell what dampness or change of temperature might do to a water +colour or a gouache. Oh! my poor Fragonards! My poor Bouchers! +Gentlemen, never, never collect water colours or porcelains! Take it +from me!" + +At that moment the bugle sounded--"All's well," and as we were +preparing to mount the stairs, the old man accosted the officers anew, +asking them for the titles of some books on artillery and fortification. + +"That all depends to what use you wish to apply them." + +"Ah, it's about protecting my collection. I simply must do something! +I can't send them to storage, they wouldn't be any safer there, and +even if they were I'd die of anxiety so far away from my precious +belongings." + +"Good-nights" were said in the vestibule, and the gathering dispersed +just as does any group of persons after a theatre or an ordinary +reception. But once in the street, it was absolutely useless to even +think of a taxi. People were pouring from every doorway, heads stuck +out of every window. + +"Where did they fall? Which way?" + +In the total obscurity, the sound of feet all hurrying in the same +direction, accompanied by shouts of recognition, even ripples of +laughter, seemed strangely gruesome, as the caravan of curious hastened +towards the scene of tragedy. + +"No crowds allowed. Step lively," called the _sergeants-de-ville_, at +their wits' end. "Better go back home, they might return. Step +lively, I say!" + + +It happened thus the first few visits, but presently the situation +became less humorous. One began to get accustomed to it. Then one +commenced to dislike it and protest. + +Seated by the studio fire, we were both plunged deep in our books. + +"_Allons_!" exclaimed H. "Do you hear the _pompiers_? The Gothas +again!" + +We stiffened up in our chairs and listened. The trumpets sounded +shrilly on the night air of our tranquil Parisian quarter. + +"Right you are. That means down we go! They might have waited until I +finished my chapter, hang them! There's no electricity in our cellar," +and I cast aside my book in disgust. + +Taking our coats and a steamer rug we prepared to descend. In the +court-yard the clatter of feet resounded. + +The cellar of our seventeenth century dwelling being extremely deep and +solidly built, was at once commandeered as refuge for one hundred +persons in case of bombardment, and we must needs share it with some +ninety odd less fortunate neighbours. + +"Hurry up there. Hurry up, I say," calls a sharp nasal voice. + +That voice belonged to Monsieur Leddin, formerly a clock maker, but now +of the _Service Auxiliare_, and on whom devolved the policing of our +entire little group, simply because of his uniform. + +His observations, however, have but little effect. People come +straggling along, yawning from having been awakened in their first +sleep, and almost all of them is hugging a bundle or parcel containing +his most precious belongings. + +It is invariably an explosion which finally livens their gait, and they +hurry into the stairway. A slight jam is thus produced. + +"No pushing there! Order!" cries another stentorian voice, belonging +to Monsieur Vidalenc, the coal dealer. + +"Here! here!" echo several high pitched trebles. "_Tres bien, tres +bien_. Follow in line--what's the use of crowding?" + +Monsieur Leddin makes another and still shriller effort, calling from +above: + +"Be calm now. Don't get excited." + +"Who's excited?" + +"You are!" + +"Monsieur Leddin, you're about as fit to be a soldier as I to be an +Archbishop," sneered the butcher's wife. "You'd do better to leave us +alone and hold your peace." + +General hilarity, followed by murmurs of approval from various other +females, which completely silenced Monsieur Leddin, who never reopened +his mouth during the entire evening, so that one could not tell whether +he was nursing his offended dignity or hiding his absolute incompetence +to assume authority. + +Places were quickly found on two or three long wooden benches, and a +few chairs provided for the purpose, some persons even spreading out +blankets and camping on the floor. + +The raiment displayed was the typical negligee of the Parisian working +class; a dark coloured woollen dressing gown, covered over with a shawl +or a cape, all the attire showing evidence of having been hastily +donned with no time to think of looking in the mirror. + +An old lantern and a kerosene lamp but dimly lighted the groups which +were shrouded in deep velvety shadows. + +Presently a man, a man that I had never seen before, a man with a long +emaciated face and dark pointed beard, rose in the background, holding +a blanket draped about him by flattening his thin white hand against +his breast. The whole scene seemed almost biblical, and instantly my +mind evoked Rembrandt's masterpiece--the etching called 'The Hundred +Florin Piece,' which depicts the crowds seated about the standing +figure of our Saviour and listening to His divine words. + +But the spell was quickly broken when an instant later my vision +coughed and called-- + +"Josephine, did you bring down the 'Petit Parisien,' as I told you?" + +Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, and then a rather distant explosion +gave us reason to believe that the enemy planes were retiring. + +"_Jamais de la vie_! No such luck to-night. Why we've got a good +couple of hours ahead of us, just like last time. You'll see! Much +better to make yourself as comfortable as possible and not lose any +sleep over it." + +The tiny babies had scarcely waked at all, and peacefully continued to +slumber on their mothers' knees, or on improvised cots made from a +blanket or comforter folded to several thicknesses. + +The women soon yawned, and leaning their backs against the wall nodded +regularly in spite of their efforts not to doze off, and each time, +surprised by the sudden shock of awakening would shudder and groan +unconsciously. + +Tightly clasped in their hands, or on the floor between their feet lay +a bag which never got beyond their reach, to which they clung as +something sacred. Certain among them were almost elegant in their grey +linen covers. Others had seen better days, while still others dated +back to the good old times of needlework tapestry. There were carpet, +kit and canvas bags, little wooden chests with leather handles, and one +poor old creature carefully harboured a card-board box tied about with +a much knotted string. + +What did they all contain? In France amid such a gathering it were +safe to make a guess. + +First of all, the spotless family papers--cherished documents +registering births, deaths and marriages. A lock of hair, a baby +tooth, innumerable faded photographs, a bundle of letters, a scrap of +paper whereon are scrawled the last words of a departed hero, and way +down underneath, neatly separated from all the rest, I feel quite sure +the little family treasure lies hidden. Yes, here is that handful of +stocks and bonds, thanks to which their concierge bows to them with +respect; those earnings that permit one to fall ill, to face old age +and death without apprehension, the assurance the children shall want +for nothing, shall have a proper education--the certitude that the two +little rooms occupied can really be called home; that the furniture so +carefully waxed and polished is one's own forever. Bah! what terrors +can lack of work, food shortage, or war hold for such people? Thus +armed can they not look the horrid spectres square in the face? The +worst will cost but one or two blue bank notes borrowed from the little +pile, but because of the comfort they have brought they will be +replaced all the more gayly when better days shall come. + +All this ran through my brain as I watched those hands--big and small, +fat and thin, young and old, clasping their treasure so tightly, and I +couldn't help feeling that gigantic convulsive gesture of thousands of +other women, who all over the great Capital at that same moment were +hugging so lovingly their little all; the fruit of so much toil and so +much virtue. + +My reflections were cut short by a deafening noise that roused my +sleeping companions. The children shrieked, and the women openly +lamented. + +"That was a close call," commented Monsieur Neu, our concierge. + +Five or six boys wanted to rush out and see where the bomb had fallen. +They were dissuaded, but with difficulty. + +An elderly man had taken his six year old grandson on to his knee, and +that sleepy little Parisian urchin actually clapped his hands and +crowed over the shock. + +"Jiminy, that was a fine one!" + +"That's right, my child," pompously exclaimed the grandsire. "Never, +never forget the monsters who troubled your innocent sleep with their +infamous crimes." + +"Oh, cut it out, grandpop," was the somewhat irreverent reply. "Aren't +you afraid you might miss forty winks?" and then turning to his mother, +"I say, mamma, if one of them lands on our house, you promise you'll +wake me up, won't you? I want to see everything, and last time and the +time before, I missed it!" + +"Yes, darling, of course, but go to sleep, there's a good boy." + +A tall, good-looking girl over in one corner openly gave vent to her +sentiments. + +"The idiots! the idiots! if they think they can scare us that way! +They'd far better not waste their time, and let us sleep. It isn't a +bit funny any more, and I've got to work just the same to-morrow, Boche +or no Boche!" + +Two rickety old creatures clasped each other in arms, and demanded in +trembling voices if there was any real danger! This produced a ripple +of merriment. + +Monsieur Duplan, the butcher, then asked the ladies' permission to +smoke, the which permission was graciously accorded. + +"Why, if I'd only thought, I'd have brought down another lamp and my +work. It's too bad to waste so much time." + +"I have my knitting. You don't need any light for that." + +"Where on earth did you get wool? How lucky you are!" + +From Monsieur Leddin's lips now rose a loud and sonorous snore. + +"Decidedly that man is possessed of all the charms," giggled a +sarcastic neighbour. + +"Yes, it must be a perfect paradise to live with such an angel, and to +feel that you've got him safe at home till the end of the war. I don't +wonder his poor little wife took the children and went to Burgundy." + +"Why isn't he at the front?" hissed some one in a whisper. + +"Yes--why?" + +"There are lots less healthy men than he out there. The fat old +plumber who lived on the rue de Jouy, and who can hardly breathe, was +taken----" + +"And the milkman who passed a hundred and three medical inspections and +finally had to go." + +"If you think my husband is overstrong, you're mistaken." + +"And mine, Madame, how about him?" + +Something told me that Monsieur Leddin's fate was hanging in the +balance on this eventful evening. + +"Shake him up, Monsieur Neu, he doesn't need to sleep if we can't. +We've all got to work to-morrow and he can take a nice long nap at his +desk." + +"Oh, leave him alone," put in Monsieur Laurent, the stationer, who was +seated near me. "Just listen to those fiendish women. Why they're +worse than we are about the slackers. After all, I keep telling them +there must be a few, otherwise who's going to write history? And +history's got to be written, hasn't it?" + +"Most decidedly," I replied. + +And having at length found a subject of conversation that I had deigned +approve, he continued, + +"Just think of what all the poor kids in generations to come will have +to cram into their heads! The names of all the battles on all the +Fronts and the dates. It makes me dizzy! I'm glad it's not up to me. +I like history all well enough, but I'd rather make it than have to +learn it." + +Monsieur Laurent did not speak lightly. He had veritably helped to +make history, having left his right foot and part of his leg "Out +there" on the hills of Verdun. + +I asked him how he was getting along since his return. + +"Better than ever! Excellent appetite--never a cold--never an ill. +I'll soon be as spry as a rabbit. Why, I used to be too heavy, I +always fell asleep after luncheon. That campaign set my blood to +rights. I'm ten years younger," he exclaimed, pounding his chest. + +"That's a good strong-box, isn't it?" and he coughed loudly to +thoroughly convince of its solidity. + +"France can still count on me! I was ready for war, and I shall be +prepared for peace." + +"Just wait till it gets here," murmured some woman. + +[Illustration: THE COURTYARD LEADING TO MADAME HUARD'S CELLAR] + +"It'll come, it's bound to come some time," he cried, evidently +pursuing a favourite theme. "And we'll like it all the better for +having waited so long." + +Monsieur Laurent has firm faith in the immediate business future. + +"_Voila_! all we've got to do is to lay Germany out flat. Even then +the economical struggle that will follow the war will be terrible," he +prophesies. "The French must come to the fore with all the resources +of their national genius. As to myself, I have my own idea on the +subject." + +We were fairly drinking in his words. + +"You've all doubtless seen the sign that I put up in my window?" + +We acquiesced. + +"Well, it was that sign that opened my eyes." + +I was all attention by this time, for I distinctly remembered the above +mentioned sign. It had puzzled and amused me immensely. Painted in +brilliant letters, it ran as follows: + + _EXCEPTIONAL BARGAIN:_ + + _For men having their left foot + amputated and wearing size No. 9. + 3 shoes for the right foot--two + black and one tan; excellent + quality, almost like new. + For sale, or exchange for shoes + belonging to the left foot. Must be + of same quality and in like condition._ + + +"I haven't yet made any special effort to ascertain whether there are +more amputations of the left than of the right foot," continued +Monsieur Laurent; "I suppose it's about equal. Well, my plan is just +this. As soon as there's peace I'm going to set up shop on the rue St. +Antoine, or the Place de la Bastille. I'll call it 'A la botte de +l'ampute,' and I sell my shoes separately instead of in pairs. There's +a fortune in it inside of five years." + +"Just hear him raving," sighed his wife. "You know well enough, +Laurent, that just so soon as the war is over we're going to sell out, +and with the money, your pension, and what we've saved up, we'll go out +to the Parc St. Maur, buy a little cottage and settle down. I'll raise +a few chickens and some flowers, and you can go fishing in the Seine +all day long." + +"But the economical struggle?" + +"You let the economical struggle take care of itself. Now, with your +mad idea, just suppose those who had a right foot all wanted tan shoes, +and those who had a left couldn't stand anything but black? I'd like +to know where you'd be then? Stranger things than that have happened." + +Laurent gazed at his wife in admiration. + +"With all your talk about the future, it seems to me we've been down +here a long time since that last explosion." + +One woman looked for her husband but could not find him. The Rembrandt +Christhead had also disappeared. + +A tall fifteen year old lad who stood near the door informed us that +they had slipped out to see. + +"So has Germain." + +"Then you come here! Don't you dare leave me," scolded the mother. +"Can you just see something happening to him with his father out there +in the trenches?" + +Monsieur Neu and two other men soon followed suit. + +The big boy who had so recently been admonished managed to crawl from +beneath his mother's gaze and make his escape. + +"If ever I catch him, he'll find out what my name is," screamed the +excited woman, dashing after him into the darkness. + +Then, presently, one by one we took our way towards the hall, and the +cellar seemed empty. + +The tall boy came back to the entrance, all excitement. + +"We saw where it fell!" he panted. "There are some wounded. The +police won't let you go near. There's lots and lots of people out +there. Where's mamma?" + +"She's looking for you!" + +He was off with a bound. + +The instinct to see, to know what is going on is infinitely stronger +than that of self preservation. Many a soldier has told me that, and I +have often had occasion to prove it personally. + +Some of the women started towards the street. + +"We're only going as far as the door," said they by way of excuse. +"You're really quite safe beneath the portico." And they carried their +babies with them. + +So when the final signal of safety was sounded, there remained below +but a few old women, a couple of very small children, and Monsieur +Leddin, whom nothing seemed to disturb. + +The mothers returned to fetch their children. The old ladies and +Monsieur Leddin were aroused. + +"_C'est fini_! _Ah_!" + +And in the courtyard one could hear them calling as they dispersed. + +"Good-night, Madame Cocard." + +"Good-night, Madame Bidon." + +"Don't forget." + +"I won't." + +"Till next time." + +"That's it, till next time." + +A young woman approached me. + +"Madame, you won't mind if I come after them to-morrow, would you?" she +begged with big wistful eyes. "The stairway is so dark and so narrow +in our house, I'm afraid something might happen to them." + +"Mercy me! you're surely not thinking of leaving your babies alone in +the cellar?" + +"Oh, Madame, it's not my babies. Not yet," and she smiled. "It's my +bronze chimney ornaments!" + +"Your what?" + +"Yes, Madame, my chimney ornaments. A clock and a pair of +candlesticks. They're over there in that wooden box all done up +beautifully. You see Lucien and I got married after the war began. It +was all done so quickly that I didn't have any trousseau or wedding +presents. I'm earning quite a good deal now, and I don't want him to +think ill of me so I'm furnishing the house, little by little. It's a +surprise for when he comes home." + +"He's at the front?" + +"No, Madame, in the hospital. He has a bad face wound. My, how it +worried him. He wanted to die, he used to be so handsome! See, here's +his photograph. He isn't too awfully ugly, is he? Anyway I don't love +him a bit less; quite the contrary, and that's one of the very reasons +why I want to fix things up--so as to prove it to him!" + + + + +VII + +The Moulin Rouge no longer turns. The strains of sounding brass and +tinkling cymbal which once issued incessantly from every open cafe, and +together with the street cries, the tram bells and the motor horns of +the Boulevards Exterieurs, formed a gigantic characteristic medley, +have long since died away. The night restaurants are now turned into +workrooms and popular soup kitchens. Montmartre, the heart of Paris, +as it used to be called, Montmartre the care-free, has become drawn and +wizened as a winter apple, and at present strangely resembles a little +provincial city. + +If it were true that "There is no greater sorrow than recalling happy +times when in misery," doubtless from France would rise but one long +forlorn wail. The stoic Parisian _poilu_, however, has completely +reversed such philosophy, and unmindful of the change his absence has +created, delights in the remembrance of every instant, dreams but of +the moment when he shall again be part of the light-hearted throngs who +composed the society of the Butte. Time and again I have seen heavy +army trucks lumbering down the avenue, bearing in huge chalk letters on +either side of the awning-covered sides, such inscriptions as--_Bon +jour, Montmartre. A bientot la Cigale--Greetings from the Front_--and +like nonsense, denoting not only a homesick heart, but a delicate +attention towards a well beloved. + +A few months might have made but little difference, but each succeeding +year of war has brought indelible changes. Gone forever, I fear, are +the evenings when after dinner at the Cuckoo, we would stand on the +balcony and watch the gradual fairy-like illumination of the panorama +that stretched out before us. The little restaurant has closed its +doors, but the vision from the terrace is perhaps more majestic, for as +the last golden rays of twilight disappear, a deep purple vapour rising +from the unknown, rolls forward and mysteriously envelops the _Ville +Lumiere_ in its sumptuous protecting folds. Alone, overhead the star +lamp of a scout plane is the only visible light. + +The old Moulin de la Galette has cast aside its city airs and taken on +a most rural aspect, while the _maquis_, or jungle on whose site a +whole new white stone quarter had been projected, is now but a mass of +half finished, abandoned foundations, wherein the children of the +entire neighbourhood gather to play at the only game which now has a +vogue, i.e., "War." + +_La petite guerre_ they call it. + +We came upon them quite by accident one afternoon, and discovered two +hostile bands occupying first line trenches. + +Of course, as no one wished to be the Boche, it looked for a time as +though the campaign would have to be deferred, but so violent was the +love of fray that it was soon decided that the _opposite_ side in both +cases would be considered Hun, and thus the difficulty was solved. + +It goes without saying that the school which is first dismissed +occupies the better positions. The others must rely upon their +strength and valour to win out. + +The first attack was with hand grenades in the form of pebbles. +Patrols advanced into No Man's Land, crawling and crouching until with +a yell the belligerents met. Prisoners were taken on both sides. + +"What forces have we in front of us?" demanded an important looking +twelve year old General of an enemy soldier who was brought before him. + +Dead silence ensued. + +"If he refuses to answer, turn him upside down until he does." + +The order was executed. + +From the opposite trench came shrieks of "Boche! Boche!--it's only the +Boche who maltreat prisoners." + +The aforementioned who was rapidly developing cerebral congestion, made +sign that he would speak. + +"Turn him right side up!" + +The young executioner obeyed, but still held a firm grip on the +unfortunate lad's collar. + +"Now, then, how many of you are there in your trenches?" + +"Enough to make jelly out of your men if there are many like you!" +shrieked the captive, struggling to escape. + +"Take him behind the lines, don't be rough with him. Respect is due +all prisoners," ordered the General, whose eye had caught a glimpse of +his army being menaced by the blond headed enemy. + +"Look out, boys! Down with your heads! They're sending over some +'coal scuttles.' Dig in I say and keep a sharp look out! What's the +matter back there?" + +"It's little Michaud. He's wounded!" + +"Don't cry, Michaud, go out by the connecting trench to the dressing +station. It's not far." + +The hail of "coal scuttles" having subsided, the General mounted to his +observation post. + +"Hey! Michel! Gaston! hey there, the artillery!" he yelled. "Get in +at them quick. Go to it, I say. Don't you see they're going to +attack! What's artillery for, anyway?" + +"We can't fire a shot. They're pounding on our munitions dump." + +"What difference does that make?" + +Under heavy fire the artillery achieved the impossible, which actually +resulted in bloodshed. But their determination was soon rewarded, for +the patent "Seventy Fives," represented by huge slabs of sod, soon +rained into the enemy trenches, sowing panic and disorder. + +Profiting by the confusion, our General grabbed up a basket and began +distributing munitions. + +"Attention! Listen to me! Don't any one fire until I give the word. +Let them approach quite close and then each one of you choose your man. +Dentu, if you're too short, stand on a stone or something!" + +The artillery wreaking havoc in his midst, the enemy decided to brusque +matters and attack. He left his trenches shouting, "_Vive la France! +En avant! Aux armes, mes citoyens! A bas le Boche!_" + +"Attention! Are you ready? Fire!" commanded our General. + +Bing! bang! a veritable tornado of over-ripe tomatoes deluged the +astonished oncomers, who hesitated an instant and then fell back. The +standard bearer having received one juicy missile full in the face, +dropped his emblem and stared wild-eyed about him. From the head and +hair of the enemy General, whose cardboard helmet had been crushed to a +pulp, streamed a disgusting reddish mess. The other unfortunate +wounded were weeping. + +"_En avant a la bayonette_! _Vive la France_! We've got them, they're +ours," shrieked the delighted commander, who owed his rank to the fact +that his parents kept a fruit stand. + +It was victory for certain, and a proudly won triumph. The melee was +hot and ferocious, many a patch or darn being put in store for certain +patient, all-enduring mothers. + +The dressing station was full to overflowing. Here the feminine +element reigned supreme, their heads eclipsed beneath a stolen dish +cloth, a borrowed towel, or a grimy handkerchief. And here too, little +Michaud, his pate enveloped in so many yards of bandage that he seemed +to be all turban, sat on an impromptu cot, smiling benignly while +devouring a three sou apple tart, due to the generosity of the Ladies' +Red Cross Emergency Committee, which had taken up a collection in order +to alleviate the sufferings of their dear hero. + +To be perfectly frank, almost all the supply of dressings had been +employed on Michaud's person at the very outbreak of hostilities, so, +therefore, when the stock ran short and more were needed, they were +merely unrolled from about his head. + +Leaving him to his fate, we advanced a bit in order to communicate with +one of the glorious vanquished. + +"They think they've got us," he explained, "but just you wait and see! +I know a shop on the Avenue de Clichy where you can get rotten eggs for +nothing! They don't know what's coming to them--they don't!" + +Thus for these little folks the very state of their existence is the +war. They do not talk about it because they are living it. Even those +who are so fortunate as to recall the happy times when there was no +conflict, scarcely assume a superiority over their comrades who cannot +remember that far distant epoch. + +"My papa'll be home next week on furlough if there isn't an attack," or +"Gee, how we laughed down cellar the night of the bombardment," are +common phrases, just as the words, "guns, shells, aeroplanes and gas," +form the very elements of their education. The better informed +instruct the others, and it is no uncommon occurrence to see a group of +five or six little fellows hanging around a doorway, listening to a +gratuitous lecture on the 75, given by an elder. + +"That's not true," cuts in one. "It's not that at all, the +_correcteur_ and the _debouchoir_ are not the same thing. Not by a +long sight! I ought to know, hadn't I, my father's chief gunner in his +battery." + +"Ah, go on! Didn't Mr. Dumont who used to teach the third grade, draw +it all out for us on the blackboard the last time he was home on leave? +What do you take us for? Why he's even got the _Croix de Guerre_ and +the 'Bananna.'" [1] + +Nor is the _communique_ ignored by these budding heroes. On the +contrary, it is read and commented upon with fervour. + +In a little side street leading to the Seine, I encountered a ten year +old lad, dashing forward, brandishing the evening paper in his hand. + +"Come on, kids, it's time for the _communique_," he called to a couple +of smaller boys who were playing on the opposite curb. The children +addressed (one may have been five, the other seven, or thereabouts) +immediately abandoned their marbles, and hastened to join their +companion, who breathlessly unfolded the sheet. + +"Artillery combats in Flanders----" he commenced. + +The little fellows opened their big candid eyes, their faces were drawn +and grave, in an intense effort of attention. Their mouths gaped +unconsciously. One felt their desire to understand, to grasp things +that were completely out of reach. + +"During the night a spirited attack with hand grenades in the region of +the Four de Paris," continued the reader. "We progressed slightly to +the East of Mort Homme, and took an element of trenches. We captured +two machine guns, and made several prisoners." + +"My papa's in Alsace," piped one listener. + +"And mine's in the Somme." + +"That's all right," inferred the elder. "Isn't mine at Verdun?" and +then proudly, "And machine gunner at that!" + +Then folding his paper and preparing to move on: + +"The news is good--we should worry." + +Yes, that's what the little ones understood best of all, "the news is +good," and a wonderful, broad, angelic smile spread out over their +fresh baby faces; a smile so bewitching that I couldn't resist +embracing them--much to their surprise. + +[Illustration: A COURTYARD IN MONTMARTRE] + +"I just must kiss you," I explained, "because the news is good!" + +From one end to the other of the entire social scale the children have +this self same spirit. + +Seated at the dining-room table, a big spot of violet ink on one cheek, +I found little Jules Gauthier carefully copying something in a note +book. + +"What are you doing there, Jules?" + +"Writing in my book, Madame." + +"What are you writing?" + +"About the war, everything I can remember." + +At that particular moment he was inscribing an anecdote which he had +just heard some one telling in his mother's drawing room. + +"The President of the Republic once asked General de Castelnau, 'Well, +General, what shall you do after the war is over?' + +"'Weep for my sons, Mr. President.'" + +"But, Jules, why do you write such things?" I queried. + +"Because it's splendid, and I put down everything I know or hear that's +beautiful or splendid." + +And true enough, pele mele with portraits he had cut out and pasted, +plans for aeroplanes that he had drawn, were copies of extraordinary +citations for bravery, memorable dates and descriptions of battles. + + +In the Summer of 1915, my friend Jeanne took her small baby and her +daughter Annette, aged five, to their little country home on the +seashore in Brittany. The father, over military age, remained in town +to look after some patriotic work. + +Help was hard to get, and Jeanne not over strong was torn between +household duties and her infant son, so that Annette, clad in a bathing +suit and sweater, spent most of her time on the beach in company with +other small people of her own years. + +Astonished at seeing the little one so much alone, certain kind-hearted +mothers invited her to partake of their bread, chocolate and other +dainties provided for the gouter of their own offspring, and as the +child gladly and continually accepted, her apparent abandon became a +subject of conversation, and they decided to question Annette. + +"Where is your mother, dear?" + +"She's home, very ill." + +"Oh, really. I'm so sorry, what's the trouble--nothing serious, I +hope?" + +"I think it must be--you see she has had her three brothers killed and +now grandpa has enlisted." + +"Dear me, how terrible! And your papa?" + +"Oh, he's in town working for the government. One of his brothers was +killed and the other is blind. Poor old grandma died of the shock." + +Moved by the lamentable plight of so young a mother, the good ladies +sought to penetrate her seclusion, offer their condolences, and help +lift the cloud of gloom. + +Imagine then their surprise at being received by my smiling, +blond-haired friend, who failed to comprehend their mournful but +astonished looks. + +At length Annette's story was brought to light, and Jeanne could but +thank them for their trouble, at the same time explaining that neither +she nor her husband had ever had brothers, and that their parents had +been dead these many years. + +"You naughty, wicked girl!" scolded Jeanne, as her tearful progeny was +led forward. "You wicked, wicked girl--what made you tell such lies?" + +The culprit twisted her hands; her whole body fairly convulsed with +restrained sobs. + +"Answer me at once! Do you hear me?" + +Annette hesitated, and then throwing herself in her mother's arms, +blurted out, "Oh, mamma, I just couldn't help it! All the others were +so proud of their _poilus_, and I haven't any one at the front; not +even a god-son!" + +It seems highly probable that children who have received such an +education will ultimately form a special generation. Poor little +things who never knew what "play" meant, at a time when life should +have been all sunshine and smiles; tender, sensitive creatures brought +up in an atmosphere of privation and tears. + +Those who were between ten and fifteen years of age at the outbreak of +the war have had a particularly hard time. + +In the smaller trades and industries, as well as on the farms, with a +father or an elder brother absent, these youngsters have been obliged +to leave school or college, and hasten to the counter or the plough. +And not only have they been called upon to furnish the helping hand, +but in times of moral stress they have often had to give proof of a +mature judgment, a courage, a will power, and a forebearance far beyond +their years. + +After a ten months' absence, when I opened up my Parisian home, I found +it necessary to change or replace certain electric lighting +arrangements. As usual I called up the Maison Bincteux. + +"_Bien, Madame_, I shall send some one to look after it." + +The next morning my maid announced _La Maison Bincteux_. + +When I reached the hallway, I found the aforesaid _Maison_ to be a lad +some fifteen years old, who might easily have passed for twelve, so +slight was his build. His long, pale, oval face, which seemed almost +unhealthy, was relieved by a pair of snapping blue eyes. + +"Did you bring a letter?" + +"Oh, no, Madame, I am Monsieur Bincteux's son." + +"Then your father is coming later?" + +"Oh, no, Madame, he can't, he is mechanician in the aviation corps at +Verdun. My oldest brother is in the artillery, and the second one has +just left for the front--so I quit school and am trying to help mother +continue the business." + +"How old are you?" + +"I belong to the Class of 1923," came the proud reply. + +"Oh, I see. Come right in then, I'll show you what I need." + +With a most serious and important air he produced a note book, tapped +on the partitions, sounded the walls, took measures and jotted down a +few lines. + +"Very well, Madame, I've seen all that's necessary. I'll be back +to-morrow morning with a workman." + +True to his word he appeared the next day, accompanied by a decrepit, +coughing, asthmatic specimen of humanity, who was hardly worthy of the +honorable title his employer had seen fit to confer. + +Our studio is extremely high, and when it was necessary to stretch out +and raise our double extension ladder, it seemed as though disaster +were imminent. + +We offered our assistance, but from the glance he launched us, I felt +quite certain that we had mortally offended the manager of the _Maison +Bincteux_. He stiffened every muscle, gave a supreme effort, and up +went the ladder. Truly his will power, his intelligence and his +activity were remarkable. + +After surveying the undertaking, he made his calculations, and then +addressing his aid: + +"We'll have to bore here," he said. "The wires will go through there, +to the left and we'll put the switches to the right, just above; go +ahead with the work and I'll be back in a couple of hours." + +The old man mumbled something disobliging. + +"Do what I tell you and don't make any fuss about it. You're better +off here than in the trenches, aren't you? We've heard enough from +you, old slacker." + +The idea that any one dare insinuate that he ought to be at the front +at his age, fairly suffocated the aid electrician, who broke into a fit +of coughing. + +"Madame, Madame," he gasped. "In the trenches? Why I'm seventy-three. +I've worked for his father and grandfather before him--but I've never +seen his like! Why only this very morning he was grumbling because I +didn't ride a bicycle so we could get to places faster!" + +At noon the _Maison Bincteux_ reappeared, accompanied by the General +Agent of the Electric Company. He discussed matters in detail with +this awe inspiring person--objected, retaliated, and finally terminated +his affairs, leaving us a few moments later, having accomplished the +best and most rapid job of its kind I have ever seen. + +With the Class of 1919 now behind the lines, by the time this volume +goes to press, there is little doubt but that the class of 1920 shall +have been called to the colours. All these lads are the little fellows +we used to know in short trousers; the rascals who not so many summers +since climbed to the house-tops, swung from trees, fell into the river, +dropped torpedoes to frighten the horses or who when punished and +locked in their rooms, would jump out the window and escape. + +Then, there were those others, "the good boys," whose collars and socks +were always immaculate, romantic little natures that would kiss your +hand with so much ceremony and politeness, blushing if one addressed +them affectionately, spending whole days at a time lost in fantastic +reveries. + +To us they hardly seem men. And yet they are already soldiers, +prepared to make the supreme sacrifice, well knowing from father, +brothers or friends who have gone before, all the grandeur and +abnegation through which their souls must pass to attain but an +uncertain end. + +Any number of what we would call mere children have been so imbued with +the spirit of sacrifice, that they have joined the army long before +their Class was called. Madame de Martel's grandson, the sons of +Monsieur Barthou, Louis Morin, Pierre Mille, to mention but a few in +thousands, all fell on the Field of Honour before attaining their +eighteenth year. + +And each family will tell you the same pathetic tale: + +"We tried to interest him in his work--we provided all kinds of +amusements; did everything to keep him here; all to no avail. There +was just one thought uppermost in his mind--Enlist--Serve. He was all +we had!" + +Little Jacques Krauss promised his mother he would not go until he had +won his baccalaureate, and my friend lived in the hope that all would +be over by the time the "baby" had succeeded. But, lo! the baby, +unknown to his parents, worked nights, skipped a year, passed his +examination, and left for the front, aged seventeen years and three +months! He had kept his word. What could they do? + +In another household--my friends the G's., where two elder sons have +already been killed, there remained as sole heir, a pale, lanky youth +of sixteen. + +With the news of his brothers' death the flame of vengeance kindled, +and then began a regime of overfeeding, physical exercises, and medical +supervision, that would have made many a stouter heart quail. + +Every week the family is present when the chest measure is taken. + +"Just one more centimetre, and you'll be fit!" exclaims the +enthusiastic father, while on the lashes of the smiling mother form two +bright tears which trickle unheeded down her cheeks. + +There reigns a supernatural enthusiasm among all these youths; an +almost sacred fire burns in their eyes, their speech is pondered but +passionate. They are so glad, so proud to go. They know but one +fear--that of arriving too late. + +"We don't want to belong to the Class that didn't fight." + +And with it all they are so childlike and so simple--these heroes. + +One afternoon, in a tea room near the Bon Marche, I noticed a soldier +in an obscure corner, who, his back turned to us, was finishing with +vigorous appetite, a plate of fancy cakes and pastry. (There was still +pastry in those days--1917.) + +"Good!" thought I. "I'm glad to see some one who loves cakes enjoying +himself!" + +The plate emptied, he waited a few minutes. Then presently he called +the attendant. + +She leaned over, listened to his whispered order, smiled and +disappeared. A moment later she returned bearing a second well laden +dish. + +It was not long before these cakes too had gone the way of their +predecessors. + +I lingered a while anxious to see the face of this robust sweet tooth, +whose appetite had so delighted me. + +He poured out and swallowed a last cup of tea, paid his bill and rose, +displaying as he turned about a pink and white beardless countenance, +that might have belonged to a boy of fifteen--suddenly grown to a man +during an attack of measles. On his breast was the _Medaille +Militaire_, and the _Croix de Guerre_, with three palms. + +This mere infant must have jumped from his school to an aeroplane. At +any rate, I feel quite certain that he never before had been allowed +out alone with sufficient funds to gratify his youthful passion for +sweetmeats and, therefore, profiting by this first occasion, had +indulged himself to the limit. Can you blame him? + + + +[1] The "Bananna"--slang for the Medaille Militaire--probably on +account of the green and yellow ribbon on which it hangs. + + + + +VIII + +To go from Le Mans to Falaise, from Falaise to St. Lo; from St. Lo to +Morlaix, and thence to Poitiers would seem very easy on the map, and +with a motor, in times gone by it was a really royal itinerary, so +vastly different and picturesque are the various regions crossed. But +now that gasolene is handed out by the spoonful even to sanitary +formations, it would be just as easy for the civilian to procure a +white elephant as to dream of purchasing sufficient "gas" to make such +a trip. + +There is nothing to do but take the train, and that means of locomotion +not only requires time, but patience and considerable good humour. +Railway service in France has been decidedly reduced, and while +travelling is permitted only to those persons who must needs do so, the +number of plausible motives alleged has greatly augmented, with the +result that trains are crowded to the extreme limit. To tell the +truth, a good third of the population is always moving. For how on +earth is one to prevent the parents of a wounded hero from crossing the +entire country to see him, or deny them the right to visit a lad at his +training camp? + +This then accounts for the appearance of the Breton peasant's +beribboned hat and embroidered waistcoat on the promenades of the +Riviera, the Arlesian bonnet in the depths of Normandy, the Pyrenese +cap in Lorraine. + +All this heterogeneous crowd forms a long line in front of the ticket +office, each one encumbered with a basket or a bag, a carpetsack or a +bundle containing pates and sausages, pastry and pickles, every known +local dainty which will recall the native village to the dear one so +far away. + +It is thus that from Argentan to Caen I found myself seated between a +stout motherly person from Auvergne, and a little dark man from whose +direction was wafted so strong an odour of garlic that I had no +difficulty discerning from what region he hailed. Next to him were a +bourgeois couple whose mourning attire, red eyes and swollen faces +bespoke plainly enough the bereavement they had just suffered. Silent, +indifferent to everything and everybody, their hands spread out on +their knees, they stared into the ghastly emptiness, vainly seeking +consolation for their shattered dream, their grief-trammelled souls. + +A heavily built couple of Norman farmers occupied the seats on either +side of the door, and then came a tall young girl and her mother, a +Belgian soldier, and finally a strange old creature wearing an +antiquated starched bonnet, a flowered shawl, and carrying an umbrella +such as one sees but in engravings illustrating the modes and customs +of the eighteenth century. She was literally buried beneath a +monumental basket which she insisted upon holding on her knees. + +Every available inch of floor space was covered with crocks and kits +full of provisions, and in the rack above our heads were so many boxes +and bundles, bags and bales, remaining aloft by such remarkable laws of +equilibrium that I feared lest any moment they fall upon our heads, and +once this catastrophe occurred there seemed to be little hope of +extricating oneself from beneath the ruins. + +The conversation was opened by the Norman farmer who offered to relieve +the little old woman of her basket and set it safely between his feet. + +"_Oh, non merci_," she piped in a thin little wavering treble, and an +inimitable accent which made it impossible to guess her origin. + +"Oh, no, Monsieur, thank you," she continued. "It's full of cream +tarts and cherry tarts, and custard pies made right in our own home. +I'm taking them to my boy, and as we stayed up very late to make them +so that they would be quite fresh, I should hate to have any of them +crushed or broken. He did love them so when he was little!" + +"Our son was just the same. As soon as he was able to eat he begged +them to let him have some _brioche_. But his fever was too high when +we got there, and he couldn't take a thing. 'That doesn't matter,' he +said to his mother. 'Just the sight of them makes my mouth water, and +I feel better already.'" + +My Provencal neighbour could no longer resist. His natural +loquaciousness got the better of his reserve. + +"Well, the first thing my son asked for was olives, so I brought him +enough to last, as well as some sausage which he used to relish. Oh, +if only I could bring him a little bit of our blue sky, I'm sure he +would recover twice as quickly." + +The mother of the young girl now sat forward and asked the Norman +farmer's wife where and how her son had been wounded. + +"He had a splinter of shell in his left thigh. He'd been through the +whole campaign without a scratch or a day of illness." + +The woman's eyes sparkled with pride and tenderness. + +The short man beside me, who informed me he was a native of Beaucaire +on the Rhone, had one son wounded and being cared for in a hospital at +Caen, a second prisoner in Germany, and two sons-in-law already killed. + +According to a letter which the dear old flowered shawl spelled out to +us word by word, her grandson had been wounded in seven different +places, and had had one hand and one leg amputated. But he hastened to +add that he was not worrying a bit about it. + +The young girl's mother had one son in the ranks, and a second, aged +seventeen, had enlisted and was about to leave for the front. She and +her daughter were on their way to embrace him for the last time. + +The Belgian soldier was just getting about after an attack of typhoid +fever, and the motherly person on my left was travelling towards her +husband, a territorial of ripe years whose long nights of vigil beneath +bridges and in the mud of the Somme had brought him down with +inflammatory rheumatism. Their son, they prayed, was prisoner--having +been reported missing since the 30th of August, 1914. This coarse, +heavy featured woman of the working classes, cherished her offspring +much as a lioness does her young. She told us she had written to the +President of the Republic, to her Congressman, her Senator, to the King +of Spain, the Norwegian Ambassador, to the Colonel of the Regiment, as +well as to all the friends of her son on whose address she had been +able to lay hand; and she would keep right on writing until she +obtained some result, some information. She could not, would not, +admit that her boy was lost; and scarcely stopping to take breath she +would ramble on at length, telling of her hopes and her disappointments +to which all the compartment listened religiously while slowly the +train rolled along through the smiling, undulating Norman country. + +Each one did what he could to buoy up the mother's hopes. + +The little Southerner seemed to possess a countless number of stories +about prisoners, and he presently proceeded to go into minute detail +about the parcels he sent to his own son, explaining the regulation as +to contents, measures and weights, with so much volubility that the +good soul already saw herself preparing a package to be forwarded to +her long lost darling. + +"You can just believe that he'll never want for anything--if clothes +and food will do him any good. There's nothing on earth he can't have +if only we can find him, if only he comes back to us." + +And growing bolder as she felt the wealth of sympathy surrounding her, +she looked over and addressed the woman in mourning, who at that moment +smiled gently at her. + +"We thought we knew how much we loved them, didn't we, Madame? But +we'd never have realised how really deep it was if it hadn't been for +this war, would we?" + +The woman continued to smile sadly. + +"More than likely you've got somebody in it too," persisted the stout +Auvergnate, whose voice suddenly became very gentle and trembled a +trifle. + +"I _had_ three sons. We have just buried the last one this morning." + +All the faces dropped and a ghastly silence fell upon the group. Each +one looked straight into the distance ahead of him, but the bond of +sympathy was drawn still tighter, and in the moment of stillness that +ensued I felt that all of us were communing with Sorrow. + + +Between Folligny and Lamballe, we were quite as closely huddled between +three soldiers on furlough, a stout old priest, a travelling salesman, +and a short gentleman with a pointed beard, a pair of eyeglasses and an +upturned nose. + +At one moment our train halted and waited an incredible length of time +vainly whistling for the tower-man to lift the signal which impeded our +progress. + +The travelling salesman who was cross and weary finally left his seat, +grumbling audibly. + +"We'll never in the world get there on time. It's certain I shall miss +my connection! What a rotten road! What management!" + +"It's the war," murmered the priest pulling out a red checked +handkerchief in which he buried his nose. + +"You don't have to look far to see that," responded the other, still +grumbling. + +"Oh, it's plain enough for us all right. Those who are handling +government jobs are the only fellows who don't know it, I should say." + +"Bah! each of us has his troubles--each of us has his Cross to bear," +murmured the Father by way of conciliation, casting his eyes around the +compartment, much as he would have done upon the faithful assembled to +hear him hold forth. + +"Pooh! it's you priests who are the cause of all the trouble. It was +you who preached and got the three year service law voted." + +The poor Curate was fairly suffocated with surprise and indignation. +He was so ruffled he could hardly find a word. In the meantime the +travelling salesman taking advantage of his silence, continued: + +"Yes, it was you and the financiers, and it's nothing to brag about +either!" + +The man with the upturned nose now wheeled about sharply. His blood +was up and he strangely resembled a little bantam cockerel. + +"Monsieur," he snapped, and his voice was clear and cutting, "if any +one had a right to express a complaint on any subject whatsoever, it +would certainly be the soldiers who are seated in this compartment. +Now as they have said nothing, I cannot admit that you, a civilian, +should take such liberties." + +"But, Monsieur----" + +"Yes, Monsieur, that's exactly what I mean, and as to the sentiments to +which you have given voice they are as stupid as they are odious. We +all know now that war was inevitable. The Germans have been preparing +it for forty years." + +"Monsieur!" + +"Monsieur!" + +The two glared fixedly at each other for an instant; the one was very +red, the other extremely pale. Then they turned about and resumed +their places in each corner. The priest produced his breviary, the +soldiers finished a light repast composed of bread and cheese. + +They were all three peasants, easily discernible from the way they +slowly chewed and swallowed, or caught up a crumb of cheese on the +point of their knives. They had sat silent and listened to the +outbursts without turning an eyelash. Then presently one of them +lifted his head and addressing his companions in a deep bass voice: + +"Well," said he, "this makes almost two days now that we've been on the +way!" + +"What have you got to kick about?" retaliated the other, shutting his +knife and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're as well +off here as you were in the trenches of Bois Le Pretre, aren't you?" + +The third one said nothing, but recommenced carving a cane which he had +abandoned for an instant, and which he was terminating with more +patience than art, though the accomplishment of his task seemed to give +him infinite pleasure. + +As the commercial traveller had predicted, we were hours late and in +consequence missed our connection, but the platform of a station where +two lines meet, offers, under such circumstances, so diverse and +diverting a spectacle that we hardly regretted the delay. It is here +that any one interested in physiognomy can best study and judge the +masses, for it is as though the very texture from which France is woven +were laid bare before him. This spectacle is constantly changing, +constantly renewed, at times deeply moving. No face can be, or is, +indifferent, in these days and one no longer feels himself a detached +individual observer; one becomes an atom of the crowd, sharing the +anxiety of certain women that one knows are on their way to a hospital +and who half mad with impatience are clutching the fatal telegram in +one hand, while with the fingers of the other they thrum on one cheek +or nervously catch at a button or ornament of their clothing. + +Or again one may participate in the hilarious joy of the men on +furlough, who having discovered the pump, stand stripped to the waist, +making a most meticulous toilet, all the while teasing a fat, +bald-headed chap to whom they continuously pass their pocket combs with +audible instructions to be sure to put his part on the left side. + +The waiting-rooms literally overflow with soldiers--some stretched out +on the benches, some on the floor; certain lying on their faces, others +on their backs, and still others pillowing their heads on their +knapsacks. + +One feels their overpowering weariness, their leaden sleep after so +many nights of vigil; their absolute relaxation after so many +consecutive days in which all the vital forces have been stretched to +the breaking point. + +From time to time an employe opens the door and shouts the departure of +a train. The soldiers rouse themselves, accustomed to being thus +disturbed in the midst of their slumber. One or two get up, stare +about them, collect their belongings and start for the platform, +noiselessly stepping over their sleeping companions. At the same time +newcomers, creeping in behind them, sink down into the places which +they have just forsaken, while they are still warm. + +On a number of baggage trucks ten or a dozen Moroccan soldiers have +seated themselves, crosslegged, and draped in their noble burnous, they +gently puff smoke into the air, without a movement, without a gesture, +without a sound, apparently utterly oblivious to the noisy employes, or +the thundering of the passing trains. + +On the platform people walk up and down, up and down; certain among +them taking a marked interest in the old-fashioned, wheezing +locomotives which seem fairly to stagger beneath the long train of +antiquated coaches hitched behind them. + +Here, of course, are to be found the traditional groups in evidence at +every station; a handful of people in deep mourning on their way to a +funeral; a little knot of Sisters of Charity, huddled together in an +obscure corner reciting their rosary; families of refugees whom the +tempest has driven from their homes--whole tribes dragging with them +their old people and their children who moan and weep incessantly. +Their servants loaded down with relics saved from the disaster in +heavy, clumsy, ill-tied bundles, are infinitely pitiable to behold. +They are all travelling straight ahead of them with no determined end +in view. They seem to have been on the way so long, and yet they are +in no haste to arrive. Hunger gnawing them, they produce their +provisions, and having seated themselves on their luggage, commence a +repast, eating most slowly, the better to kill time while waiting for a +train that refuses to put in an appearance. + +The _buffet_ is so full of noise, smoke and various other odours, that +having opened the door one hesitates before entering. There is a long +counter where everything is sold; bread, wine, cider, beer and +lemonade; sandwiches, pates, fruit and sweetmeats. One makes his +choice and pays in consequence. At the side tables the civilians are +lost mid the mass of blue uniforms. + +[Illustration: MONSIEUR AMEDE] + +This is a station in Normandy, and for the boys of this region nothing +can substitute a good big bowl of hot vegetable soup, seasoned with the +famous _graisse normande_ and poured over thin slices of bread, the +whole topped off with a glass of cider or "pure juice" as they call it. +It is a joy to see them seated about the board, their elbows on the +table, their heads bent forward over the steaming bowl, whose savoury +perfume as it rises to their nostrils seems to carry with it a +veritable ecstasy, if one were to judge by the beatific expression on +every countenance. + +"That goes right to the spot, doesn't it?" + +From another table a voice responds: + +"Yes, fellows, it's better than a kick in the shins, every time!" + +The last mouthful gone, the cider bottles empty, they tighten the +straps of their kit bags and rise regretfully from their seats. + +"_Allez_. Off again, boys! _C'est la guerre_!" and they shuffle away +humming and filling their pipes. + +From the direction of the _buvette_, or bar comes noisy laughter +followed by oaths. The uncertain voice of a seemingly intoxicated +individual dominates all others. Yet nothing but soft drinks are sold. + +"As the Colonel of the 243rd used to say," it continues, "'Soldiers of +my regiment, repose upon your arms!' My arms are the bottle! My +bottle and my wife are the only things worth while when I'm on +furlough. I----" + +His voice disappeared an instant, dimmed by the rising tumult. Then +suddenly it broke forth anew-- + +"Attention! Present arms, here comes a coal scuttle. Now +then,--flatten out on the back of your stomach!" + +An instant later the man appeared at the threshold of the dining room. + +He was a heavily built, big jointed, husky Norman farmer-soldier, with +his helmet pulled down low over his eyes, so that the upper part of his +face was completely hidden from view. + +Suddenly he pushed it far back on his head, and casting a sweeping +glance over the assembled diners, he called forth in stentorian tones +that made every one turn around: + +"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" + +The cashier behind the counter, who evidently foresaw trouble, called +out to him in shrill tones: + +"You've made a mistake, go back to the _buvette_. You've nothing to do +out here!" + +Removing his helmet, the gallant knight made the lady a sweeping bow. + +"Your servant, Madame. Your humble servant," he continued. "Cyprien +Fremont, called Cyp for short." + +"Did you hear what I said? Now then, take yourself off," cried the +ungracious adored one. + +But the _poilu_ was not to be so silenced. + +Putting his hand to his heart and addressing the assembly: + +"Ungrateful country!" he cried, "is it thus that you receive your sons +who shed their blood for you?" + +"That's all right, but go and tell it elsewhere. Go on, I say!" + +"I've only got one more word to say and then it will be over." + +But before he could utter that word his companions seized him and +dragged him back from whence he came. As he disappeared from view, we +heard him announce his intention of "doing some stunts"--which offer +was apparently joyously accepted, followed by more laughter and several +"dares." + +Suddenly the most terrific noise of falling and breaking glass and +china brought every one to his feet. Excited voices could be heard +from the direction in which Cyprien had vanished. The army police +dashed in, followed by the station master and all the employes. A +lengthy discussion was begun, and having finished our dinner we left +matters to adjust themselves and sauntered forth onto the platform. + +Here we found our Cyprien surrounded by his companions, who were busy +disinfecting and binding up the wounds that he had received when the +china cabinet had collapsed upon him. One of the men poured the +tincture of iodine onto a hand held fast by a friend. Two others were +rolling a bandage about his head, while the patient, far from subdued, +waved the only free but much enveloped hand that he possessed, beating +time to the air that he was literally shouting and in whose rather bald +verse the station master's wife was accused of the grossest infidelity. + +"Shh! Cyprien," his friends enjoined; "shut up a bit, can't you?" + +But it was no easy thing to impose silence upon Cyprien when he had +made up his mind to manifest a thought or an opinion. + +"You'll get us all into trouble, old man, see if you don't. Cut it +out, won't you? See, here comes an officer." + +The officer approached them. + +"It's not his fault, sir," began one of the fellows, before his +superior had time to ask a question. "I assure you, it's not his +fault. He's just back from Saloniki--his first furlough in a year, +sir. It must have gone to his head. I swear he hasn't had anything +but cider to drink, sir." + +"But that's no excuse for making all this noise. Show me his military +book!" + +The officer took it, ran through the pages, and then approached Cyprien. + +At the sight of the gold braid Cyprien stood up and saluted. + +"Before you went to Saloniki, I see you fought at Verdun." + +"Yes, sir." + +"And at Beausejour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And Vauquois?" + +"Yes, sir." + +The eyes of the two veterans met; the officer's glance seeking to +pierce that of the soldier in front of him. Then suddenly, in an +irresistible burst of sympathy and respect, he thrust out his hand and +caught up one of Cyprien's bandaged pair. + +"I was there, too," was all he said. + +Instantly sobered, our hero straightened up and literally crushed his +superior's fingers in his mighty fist. + +"Come with me," said the officer; "I know a place where you can rest +until it's time to leave. And you boys here," said he turning towards +them, "you'll see to it that he doesn't miss his train." + +Night, inky black, fathomless night, had now settled about us. In the +distance one could just discern the red and green signal lamps--at +closer range the burning tip of a cigar or cigarette. The soldiers +turned up their collars. The wind shifting to the north was piercing +cold. One had to walk briskly up and down to avoid becoming chilled. +Way at the other end of the platform the flare of fugitive matches +revealed shadows moving about as though searching for something upon +the ground. + +"What are you looking for?" + +"A third-class return ticket for Royan. That old lady over there has +lost hers." + +We turned about to see a poor old wrinkled soul, in her native Norman +costume, wringing her hands in distress. + +"What a misfortune! Oh dear, oh dear, what a misfortune! What will +become of me now? What shall I do?" + +And to each inquisitive newcomer she babbled forth her story of a +wounded grandson whom she was on her way to visit. The curate and +another man of her village had seen to her expenses. They had +purchased her ticket and handed it to her with strict instructions not +to lose it. For safety's sake she had knotted it in the corner of her +handkerchief--and now it wasn't there! + +The inquirer then examined her handkerchief, made her stand up and +shake her clothing, turn her pockets inside out, empty her baskets and +her handbag; and still not willing to trust the thoroughness of his +predecessors he would begin looking all over the immediate vicinity, +match in hand. So presently nearly two hundred men, forgetting their +soreness and fatigue, were down on their knees scouring every nook and +cranny. The sleepers were awakened, the drinkers routed out and put to +work, scanning every inch of ground. + +A loud and persistent ringing of an electric bell sounded on the air. + +"Hey there, fellows!" called a tall Zouave. "Get together, the train +is announced, and since we can't find grandma's ticket we can't leave +the old girl alone in the dark, so come on, chip in--we'll make it up +to her. She says it cost forty-two francs and ten centimes. Are you +ready?" + +And removing his helmet he started to make the rounds. In an instant +coppers and silver rang in the steel recipient. + +"Stop! that's enough." + +They retired to count. + +"Chic--there's some left over!" + +"Never mind, she'll buy something for the kid with it." + +Some one purchased the ticket. + +"There now, grandma, a new ticket and enough to buy your boy a cake +with, so you should worry! But as you're too young to travel alone, +we're going to take you in with us. We just happen to be going your +way. Here Ballut, Langlois! Quick there--take her baskets. Now then, +don't let go my arm--here comes the train. Sh! don't cry, there's +nothing to bawl about, we're all good fellows--all of us got grandmas +who'd make just as big fools of themselves if they had to travel." + +And with infinite care and tenderness a dozen hands hoisted their +precious burden into the dimly lighted wooden-benched compartment. + +Yes, travelling in France under such circumstances is to me more +interesting than ever, for when it is not one's fellow passengers who +hold the attention, there are always those thousand and one outside +incidents which the eye retains involuntarily. War factories and +munition plants sprung from the ground as though by magic; immense +training camps in course of construction, aviation fields over which so +cleverly hover those gigantic, graceful war birds, who on catching +sight of the train fly low and delight the astonished passengers by +throwing them a greeting, or, challenging the engineer, enter into a +race. + +But above all, there is the natural panorama; that marvellous +succession of hills and vales, hamlets and rivers, fields and gardens, +so wonderfully harmonious beneath the pearl tinted sky. How it all +charms and thrills, and how near the surface is one's emotion on +hearing a soldier voice exclaim: + +"What a country to die for!" + + +So the hours sped by, and at length we reached our destination. P---- +is a flourishing little city, perched on the side of a rocky hill, with +a broad landscape spreading out at its feet. + +The best hotel is called "L'hotel des Hommes Illustres"--and its facade +is adorned with the statues of the above mentioned gentlemen carved in +stone. The proprietor, who built the edifice and paid the bill, having +been sole judge in the choice of celebrities, the result is as +astonishing as it is eclectic, and though absolutely devoid of beauty, +thoroughly imposing. + +We arrived before our luggage, which was conveyed by so old and puffy a +horse that we considered it criminal not to leave our cab and finish +the hill on foot. At the top of a monumental staircase we entered the +hotel office, behind whose desk were enthroned two persons of most +serious aspect; the one, stout and florid of complexion with a long +nose and an allure worthy of Louis XIV, proudly bore upon her head such +an extraordinary quantity of blond hair arranged in so complicated a +fashion that I trembled to think of the time required to dress it. The +other, sallow faced, with a long curved chin, might have been taken for +a Spanish Infanta, pickled in vinegar and allspice. + +The formality of greetings accomplished, princess number one produced a +book in which we were to sign our names. The dignity and importance +she attached to this ceremony would certainly not have been misplaced +in a Grand Chamberlain preparing the official register for the +signature of Peace preliminaries. + +This, together with the manner in which she took note of our names, +drying them with a spoonful of gold sand, gave me the illusion that I +had just performed some important rite. + +"One or two rooms?" she queried. + +"One big room, Madame." + +"With or without bath?" demanded the co-adjutor, whose voice possessed +a contralto quality utterly out of keeping with her pale blond hair and +complexion. + +"With bath, please." + +A new register was opened. Both bent over it closely, each showing the +other a different paragraph with her fore finger. Finally they +murmured a few inaudible syllables and then shook their heads. + +"Would you prefer number six or number fourteen?" finally asked the +Infanta. + +We looked at each other in astonishment, neither being superstitious +about numbers, but it would have been painful to announce to these +ladies that the matter was totally indifferent to us. They had been so +condescending as to allow us a choice. + +"Number six has a balcony and two windows. Number fourteen has one +window and a bathroom," the princess informed us. + +"But," continued the Infanta, "it is our duty to inform you that hot +water has been forbidden by the municipal authorities, and that cold +water is limited to two pitchers per person, per room." + +I said I would take number six, which arrangement terminated the +ladies' mental indecision, and seemed to please them greatly. They +smiled benignly upon us. + +The smaller one, whom I have called the coadjutor, because her throne +was less elevated than the princess', put her finger on a button and a +violent ringing broke the silence of the vast hallway. No one answered. + +Three times she repeated the rings, with an imperious movement. + +"Be kind enough to go and call Monsieur Amede, Mademoiselle Laure." + +On her feet, Mademoiselle Laure was even smaller than when seated. She +crossed the vestibule, opened a door, and her strong voice resounded +along an empty corridor from which issued the odour of boiling +cauliflower. + +"Monsieur Amede!" she shouted anew, but not even an echo responded. + +"Mademoiselle Laure, ask for the head waiter." + +Mademoiselle Laure recrossed the vestibule and opening a door +diametrically opposed to the other, called: + +"Monsieur Balthazard!" + +Monsieur Balthazard appeared, his shirt sleeves rolled up beyond his +elbow, wiping his hands on a blue gingham apron. He was a little slim +man who may have been sixty years old. A glass eye gave him a +sardonic, comic or astonished air, according to the way he used his +good one, which was constantly moving, at the same time that it was +clear and piercing. + +"Monsieur Balthazard--what an attire for a head waiter!" + +"Madame, I was just rinsing the wine barrels." + +"And how about the errands for the people in rooms twenty-four and +twenty-seven." + +A noise at the hall door attracted our attention. It was as though +some one were making desperate and fruitless attempts to open it. + +"There he is now," exclaimed Monsieur Balthazard. "I'll go and let him +in. He's probably got his hands full." + +Monsieur Amede, literally swamped beneath his bundles, staggered into +the vestibule. To the different errands confided to his charge by the +hotel's guests had undoubtedly been added the cook's list, for an +enormous cabbage and a bunch of leeks completely hid his face, which +was uncovered only as he let them fall to the ground. + +When he had finally deposited his treasures, we discovered a small lad +about fourteen or fifteen years of age, dressed in a bellboy's uniform +which had been made for some one far more corpulent of stature. The +sleeves reached far down over his hands, the tight fitting, gold +buttoned jacket strangely resembled a cross between a bag and an +overcoat, and though a serious reef had been taken in the trousers at +the waist line, the legs would twist and sway--at times being almost as +ample as those worn by the Turkish sultanas. + +Our coachman now arrived with our luggage. + +"Monsieur Amede, take this luggage and accompany Monsieur and Madame to +number six." + +The child gathered up his new burden and started upstairs. + +We followed, helping him pick up the various objects which successively +escaped his grasp. + +"Goodness, it seems to me you're awfully young to be doing such heavy +work!" + +"Oh," said he, wiping his brow, "I'm very lucky. My mother is cook +here, and Monsieur Balthazard is my uncle. With old fat Julia, the +maid, and Mathilde, the linen woman, we're all that's left. All the +men have gone to war, and the women into the powder mills. We keep the +hotel going, we do." + +Monsieur Amede was full of good will, and a desire to help me all he +could. He explained to us that he was now building the solid +foundation of a future whose glories he hardly dare think, so numerous +and unfathomable did they seem. Unfortunately, however, we were +obliged to note that he seemed little gifted for the various +occupations to which he had consecrated his youth--and his glorious +future--for in less than five minutes he had dropped a heavy valise on +my toes, and upset an ink-well, whose contents dripped not only onto +the carpet but onto one of my new bags. In trying to repair damages, +Monsieur Amede spoiled my motor veil and got several large spots on the +immaculate counterpane, after which he bowed himself out, wiping his +hands on the back of his jacket, assuring us that there was no harm +done, that no one would scold us, nor think of asking us for damages. + +We saw him again at dinner time, when disguised as a waiter he passed +the different dishes, spilling sauce down people's necks, tripping on +his apron and scattering the handsome pyramids of fruit hither and yon. +Lastly he took a plunge while carrying out an over-loaded tray, but +before any one could reach him he was on his feet, bright and smiling, +exclaiming: + +"I'm not hurt. No harm done. I'll just sweep it up. It won't stain." + +In the meantime quiet, skilful Uncle Balthazard strained every nerve in +a herculean effort to keep his temper and serve thirty persons all at +once. + +It was touching to hear the old man murmur, "Gently, boy--go gently," +as his youthful protege stumbled from one blunder to another. "Go +gently, you can be so clever when you're not in a hurry!" + +Monsieur Amede almost caused us to miss the train next evening in spite +of the numerous warnings from the princess behind the desk, who had +arranged the hour of our departure. That brilliant young man who had +been sent ahead with our luggage was nowhere to be found when our train +was announced. My husband, a woman porter, a soldier on furlough who +knew him, started out to scour the immediate surroundings of the +station, finally locating him in a backyard near the freight depot, his +hands in his pockets, excitedly following a game of nine-pins at which +a group of convalescent African soldiers was playing. + +Of course he immediately explained that there was no harm done since +the train was twenty minutes late, and when finally it arrived and he +handed our baggage into the compartment, he accidentally let slip a +little wooden box containing an old Sevres vase, which I had purchased +at an antiquity dealer's that very morning. + +He picked it up, exclaiming: + +"Lucky it's not fragile." + +And lifting his cap, on whose visor one might read "Hotel des Homines +Illustres," he cheerfully wished us a _Bon voyage_. + + + + +IX + +Before the war it used to be Aunt Rose's victoria that met us at the +station; a victoria drawn by a shiny span and driven by pompous old +Joseph, the coachman, clad in a dark green, gold-buttoned livery and +wearing a cockade on his hat. Aunt Rose's coachman, and the Swiss at +Notre Dame were classed among the curiosities of the city, as could be +attested by the numerous persons who hastened to their doorstep to see +the brilliant equipage pass by. + +But this time we found the victoria relegated beside the old "Berline" +which Aunt Rose's great-grandmother had used to make a journey to +Italy; the horses had been sent out to the farm, where they were +needed, and Joseph, fallen from the glory of his box, attired in a +striped alpaca vest, and wearing a straw hat, half civilian, half +servant, seemed a decidedly puffy old man, much aged since our last +visit. + +"Monsieur and Madame will be obliged to take the omnibus. Will +Monsieur kindly give me the baggage check?" + +Then as I fumbled in my purse-- + +"Monsieur and Madame will find many changes, I fear." + +But in spite of his prophecy to us there seemed little difference. The +rickety old omnibus rattled and bumped noisily over the pointed cobble +pavements, the tiny city merely seemed asleep behind its drawn blinds +and its closed shutters. At the corner of the square in front of the +chateau the old vegetable vendor still sold her products seated beneath +her patched red cotton parasol; the Great Dane watchdog lay in exactly +the same place on the tinker's doorstep. Around the high church tower +the crows circled and cawed as usual, while the bell of its clock +which, as we passed, slowly struck three, was echoed by the distant +hills with the same familiar sound. + +The omnibus deposited us at the entrance to the big roomy edifice which +Aunt Rose called "home." + +The broad facade, evenly pierced by its eighteen long French windows, +had a genial, inviting appearance, while the soft rose colour of the +bricks, the white stone trimming, the iron balconies, mingled here and +there with bas-reliefs and sculptures, were in perfect harmony with the +tall slanting slate roof and majestic chimneys, the whole forming one +of those delightful ensembles constructed by local architects during +the 17th century for the pleasure and comfort of a large French +bourgeois family. + +Aunt Rose herself, leaning upon an ivory-headed cane, but bright eyed +and alert as ever, awaited us at the top of the steps. From her we +soon learned that we had missed our friends the M.'s by but a day, and +that little Andre, son of our cousins in Flers, had announced his visit +for the following Monday. + +At this point Friquet, her old Pomeranian favourite, crept down from +his cushion and approached us. + +"He doesn't bark any more, so you know he must be getting old," smiled +Aunt Rose, caressing her pet. + +"My poor Victoire is getting on, too, I fear. Her nephew is stone +blind since the battle of the Marne. Joseph has lost two of his +grandsons; of course, he didn't tell you--he doesn't want any one to +speak of it--but he's very much upset by it. Nicholas and Armandine do +nothing but worry about their poor little Pierre, who hasn't given a +sign of life for three months now--so I fear you will have to be very +patient and very indulgent guests." + +The delightful old lady led us to our room, "the psyche room" we, the +youngsters, used to call it on account of the charming grisaille wall +paper, dating from the end of the Empire period, and representing in +somewhat stiff but none the less enchanting manner the amorous +adventures of that goddess. + +I have always had a secret feeling that many a time, urged by her +confessor, Madame de C. had been upon the point of obliterating or +removing those extremely chaste nude images. But at the last moment +rose up the horror of voluntarily changing anything in the homestead, +transforming a whole room that she always had known thus, and perhaps +the unavowed fear of our ridicule and reproach, had made her renounce +her project. + +"Brush up quickly, and come right down to tea. We've got so many +things to talk over. You've so much to tell me!" + +So a quarter of an hour later, tea-cup in hand, we must needs go into +the details of our trips, inform her of our hopes and fears, tell of +all the different things we had seen--what America was going to +do--what it had already accomplished. And with her marvellously quick +understanding, her vivacious intelligence, the old lady classified the +facts and the anecdotes, asked us to repeat dates and numbers, that she +might the better retain them in her splendid memory. + +All through dinner and the long evening she plied us with questions, +kept the conversation running along the same lines, returning now and +then to a certain theme, or certain figures, and asking us to go into +even more detail. + +"I know I'm an abominable old egoist," at length she apologised. "But +you'd forgive me if only you realised how much happiness your stories +will bring, and to how many people. I imagine that you haven't had +much time for correspondence with our family--but that's all an old +woman like myself is good for these days." + +"Our family" consisted in relationship to the 'nth degree of all the +H's, de C's, B's and F's that were then in existence, some of them such +distant cousins that Aunt Rose herself would never have recognised them +had they met. And besides these people there were her friends, her +servants, her farmers, possibly a group of three hundred persons with +whom the good soul corresponded, giving news of the ones to the others, +announcing misfortunes or joys--a living link between us all. + +Left a widow when still quite young, Aunt Rose had lived with and +respected the memory of her husband. Though she had had many an offer, +she had never cared to remarry. But unable to stand the damp climate +of Normandy, she had returned to her family homestead in this little +city of the Bourbonnais, in whose suburbs she possessed quite a fortune +in farm lands. Alone in the world, with no immediate family, she had +devoted herself not only to her own, but to her husband's relatives. +Her home had always been the _havre de grace_, known and venerated by +them all; a meeting place for reconciliation between persons whose +self-control had escaped them; the shelter for prodigal and repentant +sons who awaited the forgiveness of their justly wrathful sires; the +comforting haven that seemed to assuage the pangs of departure and +bereavement. But above all it was the one spot for properly +celebrating family anniversaries, announcing engagements, and spending +joyous vacations. + +The war had been the cause of a great deal of hard work in this respect. + +"Why, I receive more letters than a State functionary," Aunt Rose +informed me when I came upon her early the next morning, already +installed behind her huge flat-topped desk, her tortoise-shell +spectacles tipped down towards the end of her very prominent nose. + +"For nearly four years I've been writing on the average of twenty +letters a day and I never seem to catch up with my correspondence. +Why, I need a secretary just to sort out and classify it. You haven't +an idea the different places that I hear from. See, here are your +letters from the United States. Leon is in the Indo-Chinese Bank in +Oceania. Albert is mobilised at Laos, Quentin in Morocco. Jean-Paul +and Marcel are fighting at Saloniki; Emilien in Italy. Marie is +Superior in a convent at Madrid; Madeline, Sister of Charity at Cairo. +You see I've a world-wide correspondence. + +"Look," she continued, opening a deep drawer in one side of her desk, +"here are the letters from my _poilus_ and, of course, these are only +the answered ones. The dear boys just love to write and not one of +them misses a week without doing so. I'm going to keep them all. +Their children may love to have them some day." + +Then she opened a smaller drawer, and my eye fell upon a dozen or +fifteen packages, all different in size and each one enveloped in white +tissue paper, carefully tied about with grey silk ribbon. + +"These were written by our dear departed," she said simply. + +In an instant they passed before my eyes, those "dear departed." Big, +tall William, so gay and so childish, he who used to play the ogre or +the horse, or anything one wished: a person so absolutely indispensable +to their games that all the little folk used to gather beneath his +window early in the morning, crying in chorus: "Uncle William! Uncle +William! do wake up and come down and play!" + +[Illustration: FLOCKING TO READ THE COMING COMMUNIQUE IN A LITTLE +FRENCH CITY] + +Jean-Francois, the engineer; Philippe, the architect; Honore, whom we +dubbed "Deshonore," because he used always to return empty-handed when +we went hunting together. Gone, gone forever! + +Aunt Rose picked up one of the smaller packages. + +"These were from little Jacques." And two bright tears trembled on her +lashes. + +"You remember him, of course, my dear. He was an orphan, he never knew +his mother. I always supposed that is what made him so distant and +reserved. Jean, his guardian, who is very severe, used to treat him as +he did his own children--scolding him often about his indolence, his +lack of application to his studies. + +"I used to have him here with me during his vacations. He loved this +old house--and I knew it. Sometimes when you would all start out for +some excursion I'd see him coming back towards the gate: + +"'You're not going with them then, Jacques?' + +"'No, thank you, Aunt Rose, it's so nice in your drawing-room.' + +"When he was just a little baby I often wanted to take him onto my lap +and laugh and play with him. But he was so cold and distant! A funny +little mite, even with boys of his own age. Nobody seemed to +understand him exactly; certain people even thought that his was a +surly nature. + +"He spent his last furlough here, and I found quite a change in him. +He was more robust and tanned. A splendid looking fellow, and I was so +proud of him. + +"'Aunt Rose,' he asked even before we embraced, 'is there any one else +stopping with you?' + +"'Why no, child, and I'm afraid you'll find the house very empty. If +only I'd known you were coming I most certainly should have invited +your cousins.' + +"'Oh, I'm so glad you didn't! I much prefer being alone with you.' + +"He came and went in the house, but never could be persuaded to go +outside the yard. I should have loved to have taken him with me and +shown his War Cross to some of my old friends. But he wouldn't hear of +it. + +"'Pooh!' he would laugh when I would suggest such a thing. 'If ever +they come near me I'll tell them I've got "trench pest"--and then +you'll see them clear out.' + +"He went down in the kitchen and I'd hear him pottering around. I +never knew him so gay and happy. + +"'Tante Rose, I'm going to sing you "La Madelon" and the "Refrain de la +Mitraille." It was Planchet, the tinsmith, who composed it!' + +"He'd sit for hours in that big blue armchair, blinking at the fire, +and then suddenly he'd come to earth and explain: + +"'Aunt Rose, what a pleasure to be here.' + +"When finally he had to go back, he caught me and whispered in my ear, +as I kissed him: + +"'Next time, Tante, you promise me not to invite any one, won't you?' + +"Poor child, he will never come back, and his friend Planchet, the +tinsmith, saw him fall with a bullet through his heart. It was he who +wrote me the sad news. + +"Well, my dear, what mystery the soul hides within itself! In one of +the cupboards of the room he occupied I found two note books and a +diary filled with verses he had never shown to any one, never admitted +having written. How little we guessed what he was about when we +scolded him for his indolence and inattention. If you only knew what +accents, what harmonious phrases he found to depict the shades of our +trees, the rippling of the river, the perfume of the flowers and his +love for us all. + +"There is a whole chapter devoted to the old homestead. He seemed to +feel everything, divine everything, explain everything. None of us +understood him. There is no use pretending we did. Not one among us +would ever have guessed that so splendid and delicate a master of the +pen lived and moved amongst us." + +Aunt Rose looked straight out onto the sun-lit court, the great tears +trickling down her cheeks. + +For a long time neither of us spoke. + + +Like its mistress, Aunt Rose's home lives to serve the war. The +culinary realm is always busily engaged preparing _pates_ and +_galantines_, _rillettes_ and sausages. "For our boys," is the answer +almost before the question is put. "They're so glad to get home-made +dainties, and are always clamouring for more--no matter how much you +send! + +"Since they must eat preserved food, we might as well send them +something we make ourselves, then we're sure it's the best. Why, I'd +be ashamed to go out and buy something and send it off without knowing +who had handled it." This was the cook's idea of patriotism, which I +shared most heartily, having at one time had nothing but "bully beef" +and dried beans as constant diet for nearly a fortnight. + +The coachman and inside man sealed the crocks and tins, prepared and +forwarded the packages. + +"Oh, there's one for everybody! Even the boys of the city who haven't +got a family to look after them. They must be mighty glad Madame's +alive. We put in one or two post cards, views of the town. That +cheers them up and makes them feel they're not forgotten here in R----." + +One afternoon on descending into the kitchen we beheld two sturdy +looking fellows seated at table and eating with ravenous appetite. One +was an artilleryman who had but a single arm, the other a _chasseur_, +whose much bandaged leg was reposing upon a stool. + +"They are wounded men on convalescent leave," explained Armandine. +"The poor fellows need a little humouring so that they'll build up the +quicker, and an extra meal surely can't hurt!" + +This was certainly the opinion of the two invalids who had just +disposed of a most generous bacon omelet, and were about to dig into a +jar of _pate_. + +Armandine and Nicholas watched them eat with evident admiration, fairly +drinking up their words when between mouthsful they would stop for +breath and deign to speak. Their rustic eloquence was like magic balm +poured onto a constantly burning, ulcerated sore. + +"Your son? Why, of course, he'll turn up!" the artilleryman assured +them. + +"But he hasn't written a line!" + +"That's nothing. Now just suppose that correspondence is forbidden in +his sector for the time being." + +"I know, but it's three months since we heard from him. We've written +everywhere, to all the authorities, and never get any returns--except +now and then a card saying that they're giving the matter their +attention. That's an awfully bad sign, isn't it?" + +"Not at all, not at all," chimed in the _chasseur_. "Why, some of the +missing have been found in other regiments, or even in the depots, and +nobody knows how they got there. + +"Three months? Why, that's not long. After the battle of the Marne my +poor old mother had them say Heaven knows how many masses for the +repose of my soul; for four months and three days she never heard a +thing of me, and I'd written her regularly every week. + +"Yes, and what are you going to do if the letter carrier gets killed, +or the Boche locate the mail waggon on the road every other delivery? +Nobody's going to inform you of the accident." + +"And that does happen often?" + +"Almost every day." + +"Quite a common occurrence; there's nothing for you to worry about yet, +really now." + +So "hope springs eternal" in the breasts of the bereaved parents, whose +smile gradually broadens out into a laugh when the artillery-man +recounts some grotesque tale, and gives his joyous nature free rein. + +The convalescents who came to this particular city must have +recuperated in the minimum of time, if _regime_ had anything to do with +the re-establishment. In every house the cloth was always on the +table, the door open in sign of welcome. + +"Come in and have a bite with us," people would call to them as they +passed by. + +Certain among them were being treated for severe cases and had been in +the city a long time. The townspeople were proud of their progress and +their cure, almost as proud as of their notary, who on leaving for the +front was only a second lieutenant, but now had command of a battalion +of _chasseurs_. Nor must one forget Monsieur de P.'s son, cited for +bravery among the aces, and least of all ignore Monsieur Dubois, who +having lost both sons, shut up his house, settled his business and +without telling any one went off and enlisted as a simple private at +sixty-two years of age. + +In coming to this distant little city I had sought to find repose for +my somewhat shattered nerves; dared hope for complete rest beneath this +hospitable, sympathetic roof. But the war was everywhere. Yes, far +from the sound of the guns one's eyes are spared the spectacles of +horror and desolation, but there is not a soul who for a single instant +really escapes the gigantic shiver that has crept over all the world. +Out here, far removed from the seat of events, life necessarily becomes +serious and mournful. The seemingly interminable hours lend themselves +most propitiously to reflections, foster distress and misgivings, and +one therefore feels all the more keenly the absence of the dear ones, +the emptiness due to the lack of news. + +There are but two moments when real excitement ripples the apparent +calm of the little city; one in the morning when the paper boy +announcing his approach by blowing his brass horn, runs from door to +door distributing the dailies, while people rush forth and wait their +turns impatiently. + +The evening _communique_ arrives at 8 P. M. An old white-haired +postman pastes it upon the bulletin board outside the post office. +Long before the hour one can hear steps echoing on the pavement, as +men, women and children, old people on crutches, cripples leaning on +their nurses' arms, hasten in the same direction, moved by the same +anxious curiosity. When the weather is inclement one turns up his +trousers, or removes her best skirt. It is no uncommon sight to see +women in woollen petticoats with a handkerchief knotted about their +heads standing there umbrella in hand, patiently awaiting the news. + +A line forms and each one passes in front of the little square piece of +paper, whose portent may be so exhilarating or tragic. Then some one +clears his throat, and to save time reads the bulletin for the benefit +of the assembled group. + +Here again the strategists are in evidence. + +Monsieur Paquet, the jeweller, having served his three years some three +decades ago at Rheims, has a wonderfully lucid way of explaining all +the operations that may be made in that region, while Monsieur Morin, +the grocer, whose wife comes from Amiens, yields the palm to no one +when that sector is mentioned. + +Each one of these gentlemen has a special view on the subject, each +favours a special mode of combat, and each, of course, has his +following among the townspeople. But the masses give them little heed. + +Monsieur Paquet's persistent optimism or Monsieur Morin's equally +systematic pessimism do not touch them in the least. The French soul +has long since known how to resist emotions. Sinister rumours shake it +no more than do insane hopes and desires. + +"All we know is that there's a war," exclaimed a sturdy housewife +summing up her impressions, "and we've got to have victory so it will +stop!" + +"Amen," laughs an impudent street gamin. + +Slowly the crowd disperses, and presently when the gathering is +considerably diminished a group steps forward, presses around the +bulletin board and comments on the _communique_ in an incomprehensible +tongue. + +By their round, open faces, their blond hair and that unspeakable air +of honesty and calm resolution, one instantly recognises the Belgians. +Yes, the Belgians, come here in 1914, the Belgians who have taken up +their abode, working anywhere and everywhere, with an incomparable +good-will and energy. But they have never taken root, patiently +waiting for the day when once again they may pull out their heavy drays +that brought them down here, whose axles they have never ceased to +grease, just as they have always kept their magnificent horses shod and +ready to harness, that at a moment's notice old women and children may +be hoisted into the straw and the whole caravan thread its way +northward towards the native village; that village of which they have +never ceased to talk, about which they tell the youngsters, who +scarcely remember it now. + +"Ah, Madame," exclaimed one poor old soul in a phrase that might have +seemed comic if it hadn't been so infinitely profound and touching. +"Ah, Madame, even if there isn't anything left, it will be our village +just the same!" + +Alas! I know but too well the fate of such villages at the front, +occupied by the enemy, crushed beneath his iron heel, or subjected to +his gun fire. + + + + +X + +It was Aunt Rose's custom to spend one week out of every four at her +country seat. With the war had come the shortage of labour, and now +that her head man had been mobilised it was necessary for some one to +take direct control, superintend and manage these valuable farm lands +which must do their share towards national support. + +It needed no urging to persuade us to accompany her. + +"My farmers haven't the time to make the trip to town individually, so +I get a list of their wants and my coming saves them so much trouble." + +So early one morning a big break was driven up to the door, and in less +than five minutes it was so full of bundles and packages that I had my +doubts as to our all fitting in, not to mention the word "comfortably." +And when finally we did jog away it took every effort of the broad +backed dray horse, who had been sent from the farm, to pull us up the +long sunny hills, so frequent in this region. + +The village which would be our ultimate destination was twelve miles +from any station, and the nearest railway a funny little two-foot-gauge +road, whose locomotives were comic to behold, their vociferous attempts +at whistling not even frightening the baby calves who stood and stared +at them indifferently as they passed. Furthermore, the line was no +longer in public service, save on market days at Le Donjon. + +Our route lay through an admirable, undulating country which seemed to +be totally deserted, for not even a stray dog crossed our path. Far in +the distance, however, from time to time one might hear the throb of a +motor. + +"They are winnowing almost everywhere today," explained Aunt Rose, +"taking advantage of the good weather. We shall doubtless find every +one very busy at Neuilly." + +The thrashing machine had been set up on the public square, and all +along the last mile before entering the village we met great loads of +wheat and oats, drawn by huge white oxen, who in turn were led by what +seemed to me to be very small boys. The latter, stick in hand, walked +in front of their beasts, and swelling their youthful voices would +intone a kind of litany which the animals apparently understood and +obeyed. + +The brilliant noonday sun shone down and bathed everything in gold. + +In the shadow of the little church the engine, attended by two +white-bearded men, churned along, from time to time sending forth a +shrill whistle. Women with bandana handkerchiefs tied down closely +about their heads, unloaded the carts, and lifting the heavy sheaves in +their brawny arms, would carry them to the machine, where others, +relieving them, would spread them out and guide them into the aperture. + +Two handsome girls that might have served as models for goddesses +stood, pitch-fork in hand, removing the chaff. The breeze blowing +through it would catch the wisps and send them dancing in the air, +while the great generous streams of golden grain flowing from the +machine seemed like rivers of moulten metal. + +The children and tiny babies lay tucked away in the straw, sound asleep +beneath a giant elm that shaded one corner of the square. Now and +again a woman would leave her companions and wiping the perspiration +from her brow, approach this humble cradle, lift her infant in her +arms, and seeking a secluded spot, give it suckle. + +I cannot tell how long I stood watching this wonderful rustic +spectacle, so rich in tone and colouring, so magnificent in its +simplicity, so harmonious in movement. There was no undue noise--every +motion seemed regulated, the work accomplished without haste but with +an impressive thoroughness. Here then was the very source of the +country's vitality. Elsewhere the war might crush and destroy lives, +cities and possessions, but this was the bubbling spring-head from +whence gushed forth, unrestrained, the generative forces; stronger than +war, stronger than death, life defiantly persistent. And I was seized +with an immense pride, an unlimited admiration for these noble, simple +women of France who had had the courage to set forth such a challenge! + +For it is the women who have done it, of that there can be no doubt. + +[Illustration: MAXENCE] + +The census indicates that in 1914 the total number of inhabitants +within this little village was seven hundred and fifty. Of these, one +hundred and forty men were mobilised, and forty-five have already been +killed. The masculine element, therefore, has been reduced to a +minimum. + +Thevenet, the carpenter, grocery man and choir leader, gifted with a +strong voice and a shock of curly black hair, but lame in both legs, is +certainly, when seated behind his counter, the noblest specimen of the +stronger sex that the village possesses. + +His pupil, disciple and companion, called Criquet, is, as his pseudonym +indicates, extremely small of stature, and though he regularly presents +himself before the draft boards, he has invariably been refused as far +too small to serve his country in the ranks. + +Of course, there are quite a number of sturdy old men, who have had +ample occasion to do their bit by helping their daughters or their +sons' wives on their farms. So in the village itself there remains +hardly any one. + +Old man Magnier is so bent with rheumatism that each movement is +accompanied by an alarming cracking of his bones, and one is tempted to +ask him not to stir for fear of suddenly seeing him drop to pieces, as +would an antiquated, over-dry grandfather clock, on being removed from +a long stay in the garret. + +Monsiau, the inn-keeper, is ready and willing to do almost anything but +he is so terribly stout that the slightest physical effort causes him +to turn purple and gasp for breath. He therefore remains seated, +nodding like a big Buddha, half dozing over the harangues of his friend +Chavignon, the tailor, whose first name, by the way, is Pacifique. But +in order to belie this little war-like appellation, Chavignon spends +most of the time he owes to the trade dreaming of impossible plans and +preparing ghastly tortures, to which the Kaiser shall be submitted when +once we have caught him. + +Bonnet, the hardware dealer, in spite of his seventy-eight years, comes +and goes at a lively pace--coughing, grumbling, mumbling--always in a +hurry, though he never has anything special to attend to. + +And finally there is Laigut; Laigut whom one consults when at his wits' +end, simply because he knows everything in general, and nothing in +particular, his knowledge covering all the arts and sciences as resumed +in the Grand Encyclopedia. He is a little man with spectacles, and a +short grey beard, costumed winter and summer alike in the same suit of +worn brown velvet, a rabbit skin cap on his head, his feet shoved into +wooden sabots. + +His reputation before the war was not what one would call spotless. +His passion for fowl (other people's on principle) had led to his being +strongly suspected. He was a poacher, as well, always ready to bring +you the hare or the pike you needed, at a fixed date and hour, more +especially when the shooting and fishing seasons were closed. + +His was one of those hidden geniuses which the war had revealed. +Otherwise we should never on earth have suspected him of being so +capable. But be it requested that he repair a sewing machine, a +bicycle or a watch; sharpen a pair of scissors, put in a pane of glass, +make over mattresses, shear a horse, a dog or a human, paint a sign, +cover an umbrella, kill a pig or treat a sprain, Laigut never +hesitates, Laigut is always found competent. Add to this his commerce +in seeds and herbs, his talent for destroying snakes and trapping +moles, the fact that he is municipal bell ringer and choir boy, and you +will have but a feeble idea of the activities of this man whose field +seems so unlimited. + +In a little old shed behind his house he carefully stores the +innumerable and diverse objects which are confided to his care, and +contrary to what one might suppose, he bears no malice for the lack of +esteem bestowed upon him in times gone by. Not at all. His breadth of +character is equalled only by the diversity of his gifts. From time to +time a fowl may still disappear, but none save _Maitre Renard_ is now +accused. In these days there are so many foxes about! + +If I may seem to have gone deep into detail concerning these people it +is only because I am anxious to make better understood what life means +in a village without men. That is to say without valid men who care +for the cattle, steer the plough, keep the furrows of equal depth and +straight as a die; rake, hoe and sow; reap, harvest and carry the heavy +burdens, in fact, perform all the hard, fatiguing labour that the +upkeep of the soil requires. + +And yet, in spite of their absence, not a foot of ground has been +neglected. The cattle are robust and well cared for, the harvests +reaped and brought to cover, the taxes and the rents have been paid, +and down under the piles of linen in those big oak cupboards lie many +blue bank notes, or several bonds of the National Defense. And France +has crossed the threshold of her fifth year of war. + +To whom is this due? The women. + +There were no training schools to teach them how to sow or reap--no +kindly advisors to take the husbands' places and tell them what animals +to keep and feed, at what time to sell, or at what price. They had to +learn from hard experience, taxing their intuition and great common +sense to the utmost. + +And with it all they are so shy and modest; at heart a little bit +ashamed when you speak to them in terms of admiration for what they +have done. + +"We didn't really know what to do at the end of that first year when we +found there wasn't any one to take care of the ground," explained Julie +Laisne, who lives just behind Aunt Rose. + +"I would have tried to plough, been glad to do it, but I was afraid the +others would make fun of me," said Anna Troussiere. + +"That's just the way I felt about it," exclaimed Julie. "I nearly went +crazy when I knew time was flying, winter coming, and no wheat in. +I've no doubt it was the same with all the others. Then one day the +news ran round like lightning that Anna was out ploughing her fields, +with her kid and her grandfather to help her. Nobody took the time to +go and see if it was true. Each one got out her plough. Of course, +the first furrows were not very straight, but soon we got used to it, +and Lord, how we laughed over my first attempts, when my husband came +home the next fall on furlough." + +I wish that some great master of the pen might paint in words as simple +as the Golden Legend, in stanzas as pure as the Litanies of the Holy +Virgin, the picture of this little Julie, up and about with the first +rays of dawn, always hard at work, and whom when night has closed in I +have often come upon, bending over beneath her tallow candle, writing +to the dear one at the front. To this task as to all the others she +concentrates her every effort and attention, anxious that no news be +forgotten,--news which is as fresh and naive as the events and the +nature that inspires it. "The sow has had twelve little pigs, the +donkey has a nail in its hoof, little Michel has a cold, and butter now +sells for forty-three sous the pound." + +Her farm is too small and brings in too little for her to dream of +taking on some one to help. But she keeps three cows, and three +calves; a dozen or two pigs, a donkey and all the chickens she can +afford to feed. Forty acres is quite a responsibility for so small a +person, and it requires lots of courage to replace the missing muscle, +to till the soil, care for the kitchen garden and the animals, and send +three small children off to school on time, all of them washed and +combed, without a hole in their stockings or a spot on their aprons. +It needs something more than courage to be able to sing and dissimulate +one's anxieties, to hide in one corner of that envelope that will be +opened by him "Out there," a little favourite flower, tenderly cared +for, nursed to maturity. + +"Bah!" she laughs as I sympathise. "It might be bad if one were all +alone in his troubles. But we're all in the same boat, down here!" + +Yes, all of them have done their duty--more than their duty, the +impossible. In other villages it is just the same--in other Provinces. +From one end to the other of France such marvels have been accomplished +that the government decided that so much devotion merited recompense. + +So one fine morning a motor was seen to stop in front of the Cafe +Lacroix, a gentleman in uniform (some say it was the Prefet) +accompanied by two other men, got down and walked over to the town hall +that is near the church. + +A few moments later Criquet was dispatched on bicycle to Anna +Troussiere's and Claudine Charpin's, with orders to bring them back +with him. + +He soon returned accompanied by the two frightened creatures, who +fearing ill news had not unrolled their sleeves nor removed the +handkerchief from their heads, but jumped on their bicycles and +hastened to the town hall. + +Then suddenly the gentleman in uniform appeared on the steps, made them +a little speech, and stepping down pinned a medal on their heaving +breasts. He thrust a diploma which bore their names into their +trembling fingers, shook hands with them most cordially, and mounting +in his car, drove away in a cloud of dust. + +Every one, much excited, gathered around the two women. The medals +were handed about, commented upon. + +"Beautiful," exclaimed Criquet who is something of a wag. "I think +they're made of bronze. Too bad they're not chocolate so you might +give us all some." + +"Claudine," said Anna Troussiere, "it's time we went home if we don't +want to be teased to death. Goodness, if only we'd known, we might +have brushed up a bit!" + +But the incident did not end there. The government, anxious to show +its gratitude, offered to send them help, in the shape of war +prisoners. The proposition was tempting. A bourgeois who had several +big farms said he would accept four. This almost caused a revolution. +The four Germans were quartered in a shed and an old territorial +mounted guard over them. + +"They were good fellows," Julie explained when she told me the story. +"Hard workers too. Very kind to the animals and understanding +everything about a farm. I don't know--I used to have a funny feeling +when I saw them. But, poor souls, I don't suppose they wanted the war, +they'd probably have much rather been home and yet they were as +obliging as could be. Always ready to lend a hand when there was a +hard job to be tackled. + +"They made rather a good impression, and two or three of our women +farmers had almost decided to send for some. Well, this lasted until +the next Sunday. As they were all catholics, of course they came to +church, and were seated on the first bench, with their sentinel at the +end. Everything went finely until the Curate got up to preach, first +reading the announcements for the week. When he asked that prayers be +said for Jules Lefoulon and Paul Dupont, both from our parish and both +killed on the Field of Honour, and we looked up we could see the four +Boche sitting calmly in front of us--I can't tell you what it meant! +Every one was weeping. Of course, we didn't let them feel it. They +saluted every one most politely, you could almost see that they weren't +bad men--but every one said, 'No, none of their help needed. We've got +on without them up till now. I fancy we can see it through.'" + +Even Madame Fusil, the baker, who was in most urgent need of +assistance, resolved to be equal to her task alone. It is her little +daughter who delivers the bread to all the numerous patrons, quite a +complicated undertaking for so young a child, who must drive her poor +old nag and his load down many a bumpy side path. One can hear her +little voice all over the country side. "Here Jupiter--get up, I say." + +I met her one morning in the Chemin du Moulin, whip in hand, pulling +old Jupiter by the bridle. But Jupiter had decided to take a rest. +Nothing could make him budge, nothing, neither cries nor complaints, +sweetmeats nor menaces. Jupiter was as determined as he was obstinate. + +The unfortunate child was red with indignation, almost on the verge of +tears. + +"_Oui, oui,_" she fairly sobbed, "he just ought to be sent to the +front. That would teach him a lesson. He does it on purpose, I do +believe. He knows well enough I'll be late to school! It's already +half past seven. I've got three more deliveries to make, and must take +him home and unharness him!" + +"What time did you start out, child?" + +"Why, four o'clock as usual, Madame. But I'm sure to be late this +morning." + +I promised that as I was passing by the school I would step in and tell +Madame Dumont, the head mistress, the reason of her tardiness. She +felt much better after that, and presently our combined efforts got +Jupiter to move. + +True to my word I sought out Madame Dumont, and found the good woman +already extremely busy at this early hour. + +A peasant mother and her three children all arrayed in their Sunday +best, were grouped together at one end of the garden, smiling blandly +into the lens of a camera which the school mistress set up and prepared +to operate. + +"There--that's it--smile! Click! It's all over. Now then, Magloire, +climb up on a chair. Hold yourself quite straight, dear, so your papa +will see how much you've grown." + +Magloire was photographed with her nose in the air, her mouth wide +open, her other features registering the most complete lunacy. Joseph, +her brother, at whom they fairly shrieked in order to make him smile, +produced the most singular contortion of the mouth that I have ever +seen, which denoted an extreme gift for mimicry, rare in so young a +child. + +Little Marie was taken on her mother's lap, and I thought of the +ecstasy of the brave fellow to whom one day the postman would bring the +envelope containing the glorious proofs. With what pride he will show +them to his companions, how he will gloat over his Magloire and his +Joseph, his petite Marie and his _bonne femme_. Then, drawing away +from the others, he will study them again, each one in turn. Nights +when on duty, those cold nights of vigil, way out there in Saloniki, +when fatigue and homesickness will assail him, he will slip his hand +down into his pocket, and his rough fingers will touch the grease +stained envelope that contains the cherished faces of his dear ones. + +It all recalled other powder-blackened hands clenched forever about +soiled remnants of envelopes, from which protruded the edge of a +precious photograph. A shiver ran down my spine as the brave mother +and her three little ones passed by me on their way to change their +clothes--assume their humble dress. + +"_Merci, Madame Dumont. Merci bien._" + +"At your service, Madame Lecourt." And Madame Dumont turned to examine +her mail. Rather voluminous in size, but with the Mayor, his +substitute, and her husband at the front, she had become town clerk, +and the quantity of paper and printed matter a village like this daily +receives, is quite unbelievable. Quickly the little school mistress +ran through the envelopes, finally breathing a deep sigh of relief. + +"Ah, nothing this mail, thank Heaven!" + +"Why, what were you expecting?" + +"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything, but I live in terror of finding that +fatal official bulletin announcing the death of some man in our +community. Each time I leave the house, the eyes of every living soul +are fairly glued to me. The women here love me, I know, and yet I feel +that I frighten them. + +"If on going out I start up the road, those who live below here breathe +again, relieved. You cannot imagine the tricks I must resort to in +order not to arouse false suspicions. Then, as soon as I open their +door they know the reason of my coming, and what poor miserable +creatures I often take in my arms and try vainly to console. + +"Ah, Madame, the wives you can cope with, say things to, put their +babies in their arms. But the mothers, Madame, the mothers!" + +"And no one complains, Madame Dumont?" + +"No one, Madame, they all know that we've got to win this war." + +All along the road home I walked slowly, lost in reverie. But I had no +time for musing after my arrival, for Aunt Rose met me at the doorstep, +a small boy by her side. + +"Listen, my dear," she cooed, "I've a great favour to ask you. Would +you mind walking around to the farms and telling them that Maxence will +be here to-morrow morning? His little boy has just come over to tell +me." + +The coming of Maxence produced an indescribable enthusiasm wherever I +announced the news. Maxence is the only blacksmith in Neuilly. Of +course he's serving in the artillery, but during his quarterly ten-day +_permissions_, he tries to cover all the work that is absolutely +indispensable to the welfare of the community. He arrived much +sun-burned and tanned, accompanied by two other chaps who were not +expected, having travelled two days and two nights without stopping. + +They seated themselves before a succulent repast prepared by Madame +Maxence, and in the meantime the crowd began gathering in the shop. + +"Get in line! Get in line!" he called to them joyfully. "Give me time +to swallow my coffee and I'll be with you." + +Abandoning his uniform, he put on his old clothes, his sabots and his +leather apron, and for ten long days the hammer beat incessantly upon +the anvil. + +Sometimes between strokes he would look up and smile, calling out: + +"Why, they won't even give me time to catch a mess of fish, or go to +see my grandmother at Paray!" + +There is always some tool to be repaired, a last horse to be shod. + +"What do you know about this for a furlough! And every time it's the +same old story." + +The others, all those whom I have seen return from the front, do +exactly as did Maxence. + +Pushing open the gate, they embrace their pale and trembling wives, +cuddle the children in their arms, and then five minutes later one can +see Jean or Pierre, clothed in his working suit, seized and subjected +by the laws of his tradition. + +Sunday though, the whole family must go to Mass. The careful housewife +has brushed and cleaned the faded uniform, burnished the helmet, put +new laces in the great thick-soled shoes. The children cling to their +father, proud of his warlike appearance. Then afterwards, of course, +there are many hands to be shaken, but no extraordinary effusions are +manifested. + +"Ah, home at last, old man!" + +"You're looking splendid. When did you get here?" + +"Did you come across Lucien, and Bataille's son?" + +They hardly mention the war. They talk of the weather, the crops, the +price of cattle, but never of battle. I have even found a certain +extraordinary dislike for discussion of the subject. Or when they can +be persuaded to speak, they laugh and tell of some weird feat. + +"There are those who make the shells, those who shoot them, and those +who catch them. We're doing the catching just at present. There +doesn't seem to be much choice!" + +They return, just as they came, without noise, without tears. + +"Gigot's son's gone back this morning." + +"Is that so? How quickly time flies!" + +They take the road with a steady step, loaded down beneath their +bundles. But they never turn their heads for a last good-bye. + +"Aren't you going to mend my pick-axe, Maxence?" queried an old +neighbour. + +"Sorry, mother, but I've got to leave." + +"Well, then, it'll be for next time." + +"If next time there is!" + +There is that terrible conditional "If" in all such village +conversations, just the same as in every conversation all over France. + + +Two years ago still another "If" hung on every lip. The hope that it +entertained seemed so vastly distant that no one dared give it open +utterance. But each in his secret soul nurtured and cherished the +idea, until at length those whispered longings swelled to a mighty +national desire, + +"If only the Americans . . ." + +They have not hoped in vain. The Americans have come. + + + + +FINIS + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's With Those Who Wait, by Frances Wilson Huard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THOSE WHO WAIT *** + +***** This file should be named 20111.txt or 20111.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/1/20111/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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