"Mr. Buckhurst left us at the railroad crossing," she said.
"Left us!"
"Yes! He boarded a train loaded with wounded.... He had business to
transact in Colmar before he presented himself to the authorities in
Paris.... And we are to go by way of Avricourt."
So Buckhurst had already begun to execute his programme. But the
abrupt, infernal precision of the man jarred me unpleasantly.
In the dark I felt cautiously for my diamonds; they were safe in my
left hip-pocket.
* * * * *
The wind had died out, and a fine rain began to filter down through a
mist which lay over the flat plain as we entered the suburbs of
Strasbourg.
Again and again we were halted by sentinels, then permitted to proceed
in the darkness, along deserted avenues lighted by gas-jets burning in
tall bronze lamp-posts through a halo of iridescent fog.
We passed deserted suburban villas, blank stretches of stucco walls
enclosing gardens, patches of cabbages, thickets of hop-poles to which
the drenched vines clung fantastically, and scores of abandoned
houses, shutters locked, blinds drawn.
High to the east the ramparts of the city loomed, set at regular
distances with electric lights; from the invisible citadel rockets
were rising, spraying the fog with jewelled flakes, crumbling to
golden powder in the starless void above.
Presently our carriage stopped before a tremendous mass of masonry
pierced by an iron, arched gate, through which double files of
farm-wagons were rolling, escorted by customs guards and marines.
"No room! no room!" shouted the soldiers. "This is the Porte de
Pierre. Go to the Porte de Saverne!"
So we passed on beneath the bastions, skirting the ramparts to the
Porte de Saverne, where, after a harangue, the gate guards admitted
us, and we entered Strasbourg in the midst of a crush of vehicles. At
the railroad station hundreds of cars choked the tracks; loaded
freight trains stalled in the confusion, trains piled with ammunition
and provisions, trains crowded with horses and cattle and sheep,
filling the air with melancholy plaints; locomotives backing and
whistling, locomotives blowing off deafening blasts of steam; gongs
sounding, bells ringing, station-masters' trumpets blowing; and, above
all, the immense clamor of human voices.
The Countess and our Alsatian driver helped me to the platform, I
looked around with dread at the throng, being too weak to battle for a
foothold; but the brave Alsatian elbowed a path for me, and the
Countess warded off the plunging human cattle, and at length I found
myself beside the cars where line-soldiers stood guard at every ten
paces and gendarmes stalked about, shoving the frantic people into
double files.
"Last train for Paris!" bawled an official in gilt and blue; and to
the anxious question of the Countess he shook his head, saying,
"There is no room, madame; it is utterly impossible--pardon, I cannot
discuss anything now; the Prussians are signalled at Ostwald, and
their shells may fall here at any moment."
"If that is so," I said, "this lady cannot stay here!"
"I can't help that!" he shouted, starting off down the platform.
I caught the sleeve of a captain of gendarmerie who was running to
enter a first-class compartment.
"Eh--what do you want, monsieur?" he snapped, in surprise. Then, as I
made him a sign, he regarded me with amazement. I had given the
distress signal of the secret police.
"Try to make room for this lady in your compartment," I said.
"Willingly, monsieur. Hasten, madame; the train is already moving!"
and he tore open the compartment door and swung the Countess to the
car platform.
I suppose she thought I was to follow, for when the officer slammed
the compartment door she stepped to the window and tried to open it.
"Quick!" she cried to the guard, who had just locked the door; "help
that officer in! He is wounded--can't you see he is wounded?"
The train was gliding along the asphalt platform; I hobbled beside the
locked compartment, where she stood at the window.
"Will you unlock that door?" said the Countess to the guard. "I wish
to leave the train!"
The cars were rolling a little faster than I could move along.
The Countess leaned from the open window; through the driving rain her
face in the lamp-light was pitifully white. I made a last effort and
caught up with her car.
"A safe journey, madame," I stammered, catching at the hand she held
out and brushing the shabby-gloved fingers with my lips.
[Illustration: "SISTERS OF CHARITY WERE GIVING FIRST AID"]
"I shall never forgive this wanton self-sacrifice," she said,
unsteadily. Then the car rolled silently past me, swifter, swifter,
and her white face faded from my sight. Yet still I stood there,
bareheaded, in the rain, while the twin red lamps on the rear car grew
smaller and smaller, until they, too, were shut out in the closing
curtains of the fog.
As I turned away into the lighted station a hospital train from the
north glided into the yard and stopped. Soldiers immediately started
carrying out the wounded and placing them in rows on mattresses ranged
along the walls of the passenger depot; sisters of charity, hovering
over the mutilated creatures, were already giving first aid to the
injured; policemen kept the crowd from trampling the dead and dying;
gendarmes began to clear the platforms, calling out sharply, "No more
trains to-night! Move on! This platform is for government officials
only!"
Through the scrambling mob a file of wounded tottered, escorted by
police; women were forced back and pushed out into the street, only to
be again menaced by galloping military ambulances arriving,
accompanied by hussars. The confusion grew into a tumult; men
struggled and elbowed for a passage to the platforms, women sobbed and
cried; through the uproar the treble wail of terrified children broke
out.
Jostled, shoved, pulled this way and that, I felt that I was destined
to go down under the people's feet, and I don't know what would have
become of me had not a violent push sent me against the door of the
telegraph office. The door gave way, and I fell on my knees, staggered
to my feet, and crept out once more to the platform.
The station-master passed, a haggard gentleman in rumpled uniform and
gilt cap; and as he left the office by the outer door the heavy
explosion of a rampart cannon shook the station.
"Can you get me to Paris?" I asked.
"Quick, then," he muttered; "this way--lean on me, monsieur! I am
trying to send another train out--but Heaven alone knows! Quick, this
way!"
The glare of a locomotive's headlight dazzled me; I made towards it,
clinging to the arm of the station-master; the ground under my feet
rocked with the shock of the siege-guns. Suddenly a shell fell and
burst in the yard outside; there was a cry, a rush of trainmen, a
gendarme shouting; then the piercing alarm notes of locomotives,
squealing like terrified leviathans.
The train drawn up along the platform gave a jerk and immediately
moved out towards the open country, compartment doors swinging wide,
trainmen and guards running alongside, followed by a mob of frenzied
passengers, who leaped into empty compartments, flinging satchels and
rugs to the four winds. Crash! A shell fell through the sloping roof
of the platform and blew up. Through the white cloud and brilliant
glare I saw a porter, wheeling boxes and trunks, fall, buried under an
avalanche of baggage, and a sister of charity throw up her arms as
though to shield her face from the fragments.
A car, doors swinging wide, glided past me; I caught the rail and fell
forward into a compartment. The cushions of the seats were afire, and
a policeman was hammering out the sparks with naked fists.
I was too weak to aid him. Presently he hurled the last burning
cushion from the open door and leaped out into the train-yard, where
red and green lamps glowed and the brilliant flare of bursting shells
lighted the fog. By this time the train was moving swiftly; the car
windows shook with the thunder from the ramparts under which we were
passing; then came inky darkness--a tunnel--then a rush of mist and
wind from the open door as we swept out into the country.
Passengers clinging to the platforms now made their way into the
compartment where I lay almost senseless, and soon the little place
was crowded, and somebody slammed the door.
Then the flying locomotive, far ahead, shrieked, and the train leaped,
rushing forward into the unknown. Blackness, stupefying blackness,
outside; inside, unseen, the huddled passengers, breathing heavily
with sudden stifled sobs, or the choked, indrawn breath of terror; but
not a word, not a quaver of human voices; peril strangled speech as
our black train flew onward through the night.