Morny being near to the battlefield, we naturally saw many soldiers. The
village sheltered four convoys at a time within its walls. Officers and
non-commissioned officers were billeted on the inhabitants, and we had
to bear our share of the common misfortune. And thus Barbu and Crafleux
fell to our lot.
Barbu and Crafleux were two Prussian officers, escaped from a toy-shop,
and carefully wound up before they were let loose from Germany. They
always arrived side by side, with the same automatic stride, the one
tall, thin, and--bearded; the other short, stout, and--_crafleux_. I
must explain that _crafleux_ in the popular speech of Laon means a
misbegotten, rickety creature. The name was not well chosen, for the man
was solid, though ugly; but his round, clean-shaven face, his pig's eyes
sunk deep behind white lashes, well earned him the nickname. And Barbu
himself was no Adonis. He had a small head, with regular features, a
pointed beard, an aurified smile, cheeks seamed with scars. His style of
beauty is not that which I commend. But what matters the want of good
looks? Barbu and Crafleux revealed to us beautiful souls; they were two
model Prussians.
One morning, then, the village constable brought in a smart sergeant,
who seemed to have been taken out of a bandbox. All bows and smiles, the
young man asked for rooms, and we dared not refuse him. The contest with
Herr Mayor had been a warning to us.
"This will do," he said, entering Genevieve's room, "and this," passing
on to Yvonne's and Colette's. He withdrew, still with a smile on his
face, giving us full liberty to prepare the rooms and to rail as we
chose.
"Alas!" groaned Genevieve. "Never again shall I like my room, after I
have seen a Prussian loll on my bed."
"To begin with," I said, "you won't see him. And secondly, I have a just
and clear conception of a Prussian's method of repose. He stretches
himself out as if he were on duty, and his head on the pillow is
carefully adorned with a helmet. He is just as proper to look upon as
his photograph would be, taken after a review."
We hung tasteless chromolithographs in the place of pretty
water-colours; we took away all the books, the knick-knacks, and the
papers. Here and there Colette pinned up peacock's feathers--"to bring
them ill-luck," she said. Then both rooms waited with a grim air for the
unwelcome guests. Presently the orderlies came in, brought heaps of
baggage, got everything ready for their masters, and withdrew. An
indiscreet curiosity prompted us to take an inventory of the riches
deposited with us. Yvonne and Colette spat, like two angry cats.
"Look here! Isn't it a shame? For a single man, two boxes! five bags!
portmanteaux! Well, if he wants so much to go and fight...." Crafleux
was more modest, but Barbu had certainly imported a whole dressing-room
from Germany. The day after his arrival he showed off heaps of small
brushes in small boxes, small creams in small pots, small scents in
small bottles, and photographs and photographic apparatus, electric
lamps and re-fills for these lamps, sporting guns and india-rubber
cushions, soft blankets and uniforms without number. But he was chiefly
remarkable for his befrogged pyjamas of sky blue or Chinese flesh
colour! The sight of him must have been affecting when he had on his
helmet by way of nightcap! So Barbu and Crafleux installed themselves
downstairs, and we upstairs. Yvonne settled down in a tiny attic, and
Colette slept on a couch in Antoinette's room. I gave Genevieve a share
of my own bed in the room which already sheltered the youthful Pierrot.
We were not very comfortable, and what was worse, we suffered from the
cold. This requires an explanation. Some time ago a direful rumour had
spread about: "They have requisitioned a great number of mattresses in
Vivaise." Now Vivaise is a village not far from Morny. "You may be sure
they will do the same here," said the well-informed. And so, in all
houses, the beds were only half as high as before; and he was cunning
indeed who could say what had become of the missing part. We, for
instance, have plenty of mattresses: large, soft, elastic mattresses
which would make you wish to be ill and keep your bed--and should the
enemy of France rest upon them? That shall never be, we declared. By the
unanimous exertion of the whole family, climbing, pulling, pushing,
toiling, we succeeded in hoisting up most of these useful objects, and
hiding them in the loft under the roof. Every bed was left with one
only. When Barbu and Crafleux intruded themselves into the house, we
were hard put to it. One of us made shift with a palliasse, while
Genevieve and I slept on a hair mattress. This plan is not to be
recommended unless you choose to mortify your flesh, or to copy the
fakirs of India. We could have put up with our uncomfortable bedding if,
to add to our misfortune, the cold had not seized upon us. Our present
guests laid their hands upon heaps of blankets, their predecessors had
stolen two, and so we had just enough, and nothing to spare.
We went to sleep as straight as arrows, one on each side of the bed; we
woke up in the morning twisted into knots, one against the other, like
two shivering cats. Despair drove Yvonne from one extreme to the other;
either she lay half-smothered with heat under an enormous eider-down, or
benumbed with cold under a thin cotton blanket. The authors of our
hardships tasted the honey-dew of sleep upon beds of down; they knew not
that threatening fists were shaken at them upstairs, and that bitter
invectives vowed them to execration. Yet I think that when logs
unexpectedly tumbled down, and pieces of furniture joined the dance,
they gave a start and felt uneasy. But on the whole, as quiet as
Vert-Vert at the Visitandines, they led a happy life, got up between
nine and ten, saw about their convoy, fed well at the village inn, often
went shooting, or, if they had a mind, drove out to Laon, came back home
to rest a while and dress for dinner, and then about ten, eleven, or
midnight, got back into their rooms and their comfortable beds.
I hinted that war, conducted in this fashion, was not disagreeable.
Barbu knew that I was laughing at them.
"But our comrades ... who are fighting...."
"Do not lead such a pleasant life ... I am sure of it."
"And I think ... French convoys take their ease too."
"Well, I hope so."
But really, Barbu, it was only right that you should live in comfort,
for none knew better than you how to appreciate it!
One day, going in to return a newspaper he had lent me, I surprised this
lover of comforts seated in an arm-chair, his feet on the fender, his
head resting on a cushion, his back on another, a book in his hand, a
lamp behind him. He looked a perfect picture of self-satisfaction. But
such delights cannot last for ever. "The present convoys are going to
the front," some people said. Do you hear, Barbu? You will go to the
front. You will change your carpet for the mud of the trenches, your
pleasant fire for an icy fog, the studious light of your lamp for the
red glare of the shells! You will go to the front!
They did not go to the front. They were to pass one or two nights in
our house, and they stayed a month!
The village groaned under the reign of the invaders. Every morning the
housewives on their way to the baker poured out their complaints.
"Have yours decent manners?"
"Oh, mine are very hard to please!"
And the gossips began to tell their grievances, for many of these
undesirable guests were in truth very hard to please, and their manners
were detestable. They wiped their filthy boots on the beds and
arm-chairs, deluged the carpets and floors with water; they burnt the
furniture and linen with their cigars. They came back very late at
night, generally tipsy, went to the kitchen, searched the larder and
sideboard, and cooked an extra meal with the stolen goods. The mistress
of the house deemed herself very happy when she was not aroused from a
well-earned sleep and ordered to go and rattle about saucepans and
kitchen ranges. Of course, Barbu and Crafleux would have repudiated such
methods with disgust. Barbu and Crafleux piqued themselves on their
gentlemanly manners. Barbu and Crafleux were two model Prussians.
For truth's sake I must admit that occasionally they came home after
midnight amiably drunk, and--I am a credible witness--danced a jig in
the yard. But these are venial sins, and our watch-dogs themselves, who
from the first day had been hand in glove with the officers, looked
indulgently upon such gambols. Gracieuse was even accused of cherishing
a guilty passion for Crafleux, having once been discovered, curled into
a ball, upon the bed of the gentleman aforesaid-a most improper act for
a lady dog brought up never to enter the house. Another fault was
ascribed to Barbu. On the officers' arrival, we had held a secret
meeting to discuss the question of lights. At length we decided to give
one candle to each man, having laid by a box in case of emergency.
The next morning we discovered a scandal unheard of. Barbu ... his
candle ... a virgin candle, a white, shapely candle! The criminal had
burnt it up in a single night! A huge candle which in the present state
of things was worth its weight in gold! A few waxen tears, still hanging
to the socket, bore witness to the poor thing's death. We put in its
stead a dumpy one, whose loss we should not feel so deeply, and after
that he must provide others for himself. He must provide his firing
also. As a matter of fact he did. One day the officers demanded fires in
their rooms.
"Very well, the charwoman will look after it. But ... fuel runs short."
Barbu wrote at once a note of hand, gave it to the smart bustling
sergeant, and the day after ten sacks of coal were brought and
discharged in the coach-house. We gazed at the black heap with envious
eyes, for we used to do our cooking and warm our rooms with a poor
faggot of wood.
The officers very well knew that we lacked all kinds of stores, and
Barbu asked me once in a roundabout way if they might offer us some
petroleum and sugar.
"We have just received an abundant supply," he said, "and shall be
enchanted if you will make use of them."
This was worthy of reflection. We answered at last that we would
gratefully take their proffered goods, on condition that we might pay
for them.
My sisters-in-law made a great outcry against this proposal.
"Never," said they, "will we receive presents from Prussians!"
"Gently," I replied. "To begin with, we pay in cash for their
'presents'; then our hospitality, forced as it is, is worthy of some
recompense. And, indeed, it is ridiculous to speak of 'their'
merchandise. Is it not stolen goods? Does it not come from our bonded
warehouses and stores? Besides, is it not a good deed to help in
exhausting their provisions?"
So petroleum and sugar, flanked with coffee and rice, reappeared in the
house, and were highly appreciated by all, in spite of their Teutonic
origin.
But when the officers carried kindness so far as to offer us a hare of
their own shooting, they embarrassed us sorely. Though we were not
tempted to accept the gift, we thought a denial would offend our
dangerous guests.
"We have too many," Barbu said artlessly; "yesterday we have shot a
roebuck, seven hares, and twelve partridges in the wood of Bucy."
In our own wood! Very well, we accept the hare; it will not pay for the
rent of the shooting, so we feasted upon jugged hare, and found the very
French flavour much to our taste.
Barbu and Crafleux were two model Prussians. I do not unsay it. I even
think I have proved it. But a Prussian is always a Prussian, and the
best of the brood will never understand certain things.
"Is your piano dumb?" asked Barbu one day.
A few dances might have cheered up the house, he thought, and the roar
of the guns and the clatter of German feet in the street would have
been the best possible accompaniment. Another day, this same Barbu--to
tell the truth he talked to me with his pipe in his mouth, but you
cannot expect much from men brought up in Heidelberg--this same Barbu
asked me if I would not go for a drive to Laon with him and some
fellow-officers.
"It will be a good opportunity for shopping," he said. "No? The other
ladies will not either? Last week I dared not ask you, our carriage was
too modest, but to-day we have one of the Prince of Monaco's coaches."
Barbu still wonders why we refused. Then something still better
happened. When the officers had settled themselves in our house, we made
up our minds that the Germans should not catch sight of us in the
passage, and the order was given, "Disappear"; and the Germans never saw
the pretty faces which swarmed about us. But since I am a married woman
and proficient in German--my mother-in-law does not understand a word of
it--I had been appointed spokeswoman to the officers in case of need.
But one day I suppose the intruders caught sight of a golden head in
flight, and Barbu asked me:
"There are young girls in the house?"
"Yes, my four sisters-in-law."
"Really, we had not the least idea of it."
The next day I happened to go into the drawing-room. The blinds were
down, and the door was open into the passage. An unaccustomed object was
lying on the table. Bless me, it was a box of chocolates! Delicious
sweets, no doubt of it! And on the cover Barbu had written in his
neatest hand and best French, "Sacrifice to the invisible spirits."
Every one came and contemplated the gift and the autograph with
laughter. Then we allowed the poor chocolates to get damp in the dimly
lighted room. They disappeared three weeks after as mysteriously as they
had come, the day of "our Prussians'" departure. May they lie lightly on
Barbu's stomach!
At last the convoy left Morny. On the morning on which they were to
start Barbu plunged us into an ocean of perplexities by asking us:
"You do not mind my taking a few snapshots of your house, do you?"
"Certainly ... not, sir."
"I should be very happy if one or two of the young ladies consented to
sit at a window."
And nobody had prompted him in that! In vain I objected that the hour
was early, and that my sisters-in-law got up very late.
"Oh, it does not matter," said he. "We will wait for them. Ask the
ladies to get ready, and we will come back in half an hour."
Think how nice it would be in a year or two in Berlin, or Leipzig, or
Heidelberg, to show a few photographs! "Here are a few souvenirs of our
victorious stay in France! In that house we led a very happy life. The
young ladies whom you see were reluctant hostesses, but the French,
breathing revenge, were obliged to welcome us!"
The whole family was in a fury of anger.
"Of course, it is out of the question to comply with all the wishes of
these wretched Prussians!"
Two days before Barbu had invited his brothers-in-arms to dinner. Upon
this occasion he asked us for a table-cloth, a large table-cloth.
We took out of its dark hiding-place a damask cloth and eighteen
napkins.
"Is that what you want, sir?"
"We wish vases also."
"Will these do?"
"And we desire flowers."
"Take some asters from the garden."
And then:
"May I take a photograph of your house?"
"Sir, I cannot prevent you."
"Will you put a smiling face at the window?"
No, no, a truce to jesting. Give him a flat denial. But how? On taking
leave the Germans would certainly try to shake hands with us, that is
their way, and we were determined not to shake theirs. Would they take
it amiss?
More than once it had proved hazardous to irritate these dangerous
guests. Mme. Valbot in Lierval saw her house plundered. Why? She had
refused to sew on a button for the officer who lodged in her house.
Old Vadois, the confectioner in Laon, was listening to the tales of "his
Prussian."
"The people are not kind enough to the soldiers," the officer said. "The
French are better received in Alsace-Lorraine than we are here."
"So the French are in Alsace-Lorraine!" the old man cried out, with a
blissful look.
"Soldiers, take this man into custody, he speaks ill of the Germans,"
roared the officer. And they threw the poor wretch into a dungeon, where
he slept on straw.
Our neighbour Polinchard, who is something of a simpleton, was pruning
his pear-trees one day, when he saw his enforced boarders making
fruitless endeavours to open a fastened door.
"Not through this one," he cried, waving them back with a motion of his
pruning knife, and pointing to the usual entrance.
"What now!" cried the soldiers. "He threatens us! He threatens Germans!
Away with him to prison!"
The culprit was condemned to two months. That is why, on reflection, we
hesitated to offend Barbu and Crafleux. They had been kind, well-behaved
men, certainly, but in the village they were looked upon as haughty,
violent, and hard-hearted.
"What will Barbu say," we wondered, "if, when he holds out his large
paws, we put our hands behind our backs? Will he send us to prison, and
put us on bread and water? Will he fasten us to the stirrups of his
horse and drag us to Laon all six in a line? or will he give some such
order as this to the commandant of the village: 'Should an opportunity
come, billet fifty men on these people'?"
A pleasant prospect! The moment was critical. I made up my mind to
brazen it out. There is always--I had quite forgotten this--a chord, or
rather a cable, in all German hearts, and this chord or cable is
sentiment. Let us, then, proceed by sentiment.
I advance. My countenance is that of an angel; my eyes are full of
melancholy, my voice is honey-sweet, my hair ... no, it is not
dishevelled, or at least only morally dishevelled. I began to talk. Of
course my mother-in-law had no objection to their taking photographs of
the house. But they would permit us not to appear at the windows. The
gentlemen would understand our feelings. They were men of heart and
intelligence. They had been very kind to us, and we were very grateful
to them, but ... I became animated. "But we are at war with you ... we
cannot help seeing in you the invaders of our country, and I am sure you
are aware that certain things are painful to us! You know how hard it
would be to your wives and sisters to receive strangers. You cannot
wonder at our dealing with you as with adversaries. And I must tell you
that every time I see you I think with an inward thrill of terror, 'This
man may kill my husband.'"
I had done. I wept with emotion. Crafleux was gazing at his boots with a
shake of his head. Tears stood in Barbu's eyes, and through this
sentimental haze he saw his wife receiving French soldiers. As to
myself, I felt I would soon have to blow my nose. My mother-in-law
beheld the scene in silence, waiting to know the effect of my harangue.
It proved effectual.
"Madam, believe me, we understand and respect your feelings. We have now
only to thank you for your hospitality, and to assure you we shall
always remember it."
They bowed themselves out of the room, bowed again from the threshold,
bowed again in the yard. We heard the gate close behind them, a silence
while they took a few snapshots, and then the rolling away of their
carriage.
They were gone! Gone for ever! And no hindrances had stood in the way!
They had gone leaving behind six sacks of coal.... They had gone even
leaving a letter of recommendation for the officers who would take their
place!
God forbid I shall ever revile the memory of Barbu and Crafleux!