"How far off is it?" he questioned.
I told him that it was about two miles, and Meaux was about the same
distance beyond it.
"What town is that?" he asked, pointing to the hill.
I explained that the town on the horizon was Penchard--not really a
town, only a village; and lower down, between Penchard and Meaux, were
Neufmortier and Chauconin.
All this time he was studying his map.
"Thank you. I have it," he said. "It is a lovely country, and this is
a wonderful view of it, the best I have had."
For a few minutes he stood studying it in silence--alternatively looking
at his map and then through his glass. Then he dropped his map, put his
glasses into the case, and turned to me--and smiled. He had a winning
smile, sad and yet consoling, which lighted up a bronzed face, stern and
weary. It was the sort of smile to which everything was permitted.
"Married?" he said.
You can imagine what he was like when I tell you that I answered right
up, and only thought it was funny hours after--or at least I shook my
head cheerfully.
"You don't live here alone?" he asked.
"But I do," I replied.
He looked at me bravely a moment, then off at the plain.
"Lived here long?" he questioned.
I told him that I had lived in this house only three months, but that I
had lived in France for sixteen years.
Without a word he turned back toward the house, and for half a minute,
for the first time in my life, I had a sensation that it looked strange
for me to be an exile in a country that was not mine, and with no ties.
For a penny I would have told him the history of my life. Luckily he did
not give me time. He just strode down to the gate, and by the time he
had his foot in the stirrup I had recovered.
"Is there anything I can do for you, captain?" I asked.
He mounted his horse, looked down at me. Then he gave me
another of his rare smiles.
"No," he said, "at this moment there is nothing that you can do for me,
thank you; but if you could give my boys a cup of tea, I imagine that
you would just about save their lives." And nodding to me, he said to
the picket, "This lady is kind enough to offer you a cup of tea," and he
rode off, taking the road down the hill to Voisins.
I ran into the house, put on the kettle, ran up the road to call Amelie,
and back to the arbor to set the table as well as I could. The whole
atmosphere was changed. I was going to be useful.
I had no idea how many men I was going to feed. I had only seen three.
To this day I don't know how many I did feed. They came and came and
came. It reminded me of hens running toward a place where another hen
has found something good. It did not take me many minutes to discover
that these men needed something more substantial than tea. Luckily I
had brought back from Paris an emergency stock of things like biscuit,
dry cakes, jam, etc., for even before our shops were closed there was
mighty little in them. For an hour and a half I brewed pot after pot of
tea, opened jar after jar of jam and jelly, and tin after tin of biscuit
and cakes, and although it was hardly hearty fodder for men, they put it
down with a relish. I have seen hungry men, but never anything as
hungry as these boys.
I knew little about military discipline--less about the rules of active
service; so I had no idea that I was letting these hungry men--and
evidently hunger laughs at laws--break all the regulations of the army.
Their guns were lying about in any old place; their kits were on the
ground; their belts were unbuckled. Suddenly the captain rode up the
road and looked over the hedge at the scene. The men were sitting on
the benches, on the ground, anywhere, and were all smoking my best
Egyptian cigarettes, and I was running round as happy as a queen, seeing
them so contented and comfortable.
It was a rude awakening when the captain rode up the street.
There was a sudden jumping up, a hurried buckling up of belts, a grab
for kits and guns, and an unceremonious cut for the gate. I heard a
volley from the officer. I marked a serious effort on the part of the
men to keep the smiles off their faces as they hurriedly got their kits
on their backs and their guns on their shoulders, and, rigidly saluting,
dispersed up the hill, leaving two very straight men marching before the
gate as if they never in their lives had thought of anything but picket
duty.
The captain never even looked at me, but rode up the hill after his men.
A few minutes later he returned, dismounted at the gate, tied his horse,
and came in. I was a bit confused. But he smiled one of those smiles
of his, and I got right over it.
"Dear little lady," he said, "I wonder if there is any tea left for me?"
Was there! I should think so; and I thought to myself, as I led the way
into the dining-room, that he was probably just as hungry as his men.