II

_August first._

The _tocsin_ ceased, but the drum rolled on.

In a moment we had recovered from the first shock, and all went out to

the highroad to hear the declaration. To H. and me it was already a

thing of the past, but we wanted to see how the peasants would take it.

At Villiers as at Charly, it was the _garde champetre_ who was charged

with this solemn mission, and the old man made a most pathetic figure as

he stood there with his drumsticks in his hand, his spectacles pushed

back, and the perspiration rolling down his tanned and withered cheeks.

"What have you got to say?" queried one woman, who was too impatient to

wait until all had assembled.

"_Bien de bon--_" was the philosophic reply, and our friend proceeded to

clear his throat and make his announcement.

It was received in dead silence. Not a murmur, not a comment rose from

the crowd, as the groups dispersed, and each one returned to his

lodgings.

We followed suit, and I went with H. towards the servants' hall.

"Give me the keys to the wine cellar," said he. "And, Nini," he

continued, addressing my youngest maid, aged ten, "Nini, lay a cloth and

bring out the champagne glasses. The boys shan't go without a last

joyful toast."

There were four of them; four of them whose military books ordered them

to reach the nearest railway station, with two days' rations, as soon as

possible after the declaration of mobilization. H. had hardly time to

bring up the champagne before we could bear the men clattering down the

stairs from their rooms. Their luggage was quickly packed--a change of

underclothes and a second pair of shoes composed their trousseaux--and

Julie came hurrying forward with bread, sausages and chocolate! "Put

this into your bags," she said. Though no one had told them, all those

who remained seemed to have guessed what to do, for in like manner

George, one of the younger gardeners, had hitched the horses to the farm

cart and drove up to the kitchen entrance.

A moment later Catherine called me aside and tearfully begged permission

to accompany husband and brother as far as Paris. The circumstances

were too serious to refuse such a request and I nodded my assent.

"Come on, boys," shouted H. "Ring the farm-bell, Nini, and call the

others in."

Their faces radiant with excitement, they gathered around the long

table. H. filled up the glasses and then raising his--

"Here's to France, and to your safe return!" said he.

"To France, and our safe return!" they echoed.

We all touched glasses and the frothy amber liquid disappeared as by

magic. Then followed a hearty handshaking and they all piled into the

little cart. George cracked the whip and in a moment they had turned the

comer and were gone.

Gone--gone forever--for in the long months that followed how often did I

recall that joyful toast, and now, a year later, as I write these lines,

I know for certain that none of them will ever make that "safe return."

Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully under the strain. She was the

first to admit that after all it would have been too trying to say

good-bye to her husband. H. and I then decided that it was best for her

to bring her children and maid and come over to the chateau where we

would share our lot in common. There was no time for lamenting--for the

sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the three most important

farm-hands, left a very large breach which had to be filled at once.

There was nothing to do but to "double up," and the girls and women

willingly offered to do their best.

Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to take over the kitchen. To

George and Leon fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs, pigs

and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen, offered to milk the cows, make

butter and cheese, look after the chickens and my duck farm, while

Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen and ten, were left to take care of the

chateau! Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large an

establishment as ours, but all so willing and so full of good humour

that things were less neglected than one might imagine.

The excitement of the day had been such that after a very hasty meal we

retired exhausted at an early hour. The night was still--so still that

though four miles from the station we could hear the roar of the trains

as they passed along the river front.

"Hark!" said H. "How close together they are running!"

We timed them. Scarcely a minute between each. Then, our ears becoming

accustomed, we were soon able to distinguish the passenger from the

freight trains, as well as the empty ones returning to Paris.

"Listen! Those last two were for the troops! That one is for the

ammunition. Oh, what a heavy one! It must be for the artillery!" And

we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed for three long weeks

there was no end to it, as night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its

human freight towards the Eastern frontier.

Sunday morning, August second, found us all at our posts as the sun

rose. Elizabeth and I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock mass, and

all along the road met men and boys on their way to the station. The

church was full, but there were only women and elderly men in the

assembly; why, we knew but too well, and many wives and mothers had come

there to hide their grief. Our curate was a very old man, and the news

had given him such a shock that he was unable to say a word after

reaching the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with the tears

streaming down his face for nearly five minutes--finally retiring

without uttering a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing that

could have happened, for his attitude encouraged others to give way to

their emotions, and there was a most impressive silence followed by much

sniffling and nose-blowing! All seemed better, though, after the shower,

and the congregation disbanded with a certain sense of relief.

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a

stock of everything she dispensed.

"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from all resources. There are no

big cities where we can get supplies, within driving reach, and our

grocers will have nothing to sell once their stock is exhausted. We're

living in the hope that the mobilization will last three weeks. That

will you do if it lasts longer? It never hurts to have a supply on

hand!"

"All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been put aside for the army. I was

ordered to do that this morning--but come around to the back door and

I'll see what I can do for you," said my amiable grocery-woman.

"That's pleasant," thought I. "No gasoline--no motor--no electricity!

Privation is beginning early. But why grumble! We'll go to bed with

the chickens and won't miss it!"

Madame Leger and I made out a long list of groceries and household

necessities, and she set to work weighing and packing, and finally began

piling the bundles into the trap drawn up close to her side door.

Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised by the load he had to carry

home, but Elizabeth and I decided that a "bird in the hand is worth two

in the bush," and one never could tell what astonishing "order"

to-morrow might bring forth.

How H. laughed when he saw us driving up the avenue.

"I didn't think you'd take me so literally," said he. "Why, war isn't

even declared, and here we are preparing for a siege!"

"Never mind," I returned, "you must remember that there are twelve

persons to feed, and we'll soon get away with all I've got here."

The afternoon was spent in arranging our apartments. For convenience

sake, we decided to close part of the chateau and all live as near

together as possible in one wing. The children and younger servants

seemed to consider the whole as a huge joke--or rather, a prolonged

picnic party, and the house rang with peals of jolly laughter.

Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled the provisions which were

piled high on the table in the servants' hall. A visit to the storeroom

and a little calculation showed that there were sufficient groceries

already on hand to last the month out.

"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll divide into three even parts

--that makes September, October and November assured. By that time

we'll know what precautions to take!"

"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling reply. And we set to work.

It all recalled the days of my childhood when I used to play at

housekeeping and would measure out on the scales of my dolls' house so

much rice, so much flour, so much macaroni, etc. I could hardly believe

I was in earnest.

We were right in the midst of our task when our gardeners appeared

bearing between them a clothes basket full of plums.

"Madame, they can't wait a day longer. They're ready to cook now."

It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for we were already as busy as we

could be. But there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would be

spoiled.

"Is that all the plums?"

"Ah, no, Madame, there are fully two baskets more. And in a day or two

the blackberries and black currants must be picked or they'll rot on the

vines."

"Heaven preserve us!" thought I. "Will we ever come to the end of it

all!" But by four o'clock the first basket of plums was stoned, the

sugar weighed, and a huge copper basin of _confiture_ was merrily

boiling on the stove.

"Where are you going to hide your provisions now you've got them so

beautifully tied up?" enquired H., his eyes twinkling.

"Hide them?"

"Yes!"

"What for?"

"In case of invasion."

We all simply shook with laughter.

"Well, if the Germans ever reach here there won't be much hope for us

all," I returned.

"No, but joking aside; suppose we suddenly get the French troops

quartered on us, are you calmly going to produce your stock, let it be

devoured in a day or so, and remain empty-handed when they depart? You

see, it isn't the little fellows who'll suffer. A big place like this

with all its rooms and its stables is just the spot for a camp!"

That idea had never dawned upon us, and we set to thinking where we

could securely hide our groceries in three different places. Finally it

was agreed that one part should be put back of the piles of sheets in

the linen closet; the second part hidden on the top shelf of a very high

cupboard in my dressing-room with toilet articles grouped in front of

it; while the third was carried up a tiny flight of stairs to the attic

and there pushed through a small opening into the dark space that leads

to the beams and rafters. It was all so infantile that we clapped our

hands and were as happy as kings when we had discovered such a good

cachette.

Night was coming on as I stood pouring the last of the plum jam into the

glasses lined up along the kitchen table. Berthe had counted nearly a

hundred, and I was seriously thinking of adopting jam-making as a

profession, when with much noise and trumpeting, a closed auto whisked

up the avenue and stopped before the entrance. I hurried to the kitchen

door, untying my apron as I ran, arriving just as an officer jumped from

the motor, and before I had time to recognize him in his new uniform,

Captain Gauthier rushed forward, exclaiming:

"I've come to fetch Elizabeth and the children!"

The others, too, had heard the motor, and in an instant there was quite

an assembly in the courtyard.

"I had great difficulty leaving Paris at all. My passport is only good

until midnight," the captain was explaining as his wife and H. appeared,

and almost without time for greeting. "Make haste," he continued,

turning to Madame Gauthier. "We must be off in a quarter of an hour, or

our machine will never reach town on time."

I hurried with Elizabeth to her apartment, where we woke and dressed two

very astonished children, while the little maid literally threw the

toilet necessities and a few clothes into a huge Gladstone bag.

"Leon evidently doesn't think us safe down here! You'd better come,

too," murmured Elizabeth as we went downstairs.

In the meantime, H. had questioned our friend as to what had transpired

in Paris within the last twenty-four hours.

"England will probably join us--and there is every possibility of

Italy's remaining neutral," he announced, as we made our appearance. And

then--"You must come to Paris. You're too near the front here," he

continued, as he piled wife, babies and servant into the taxi.

And so, with hardly time for an adieu, the motor whisked away as it had

come, leaving H. and me looking beyond it into the night.

When I returned to the pantry, I found Nini weeping copiously. Imagining

she had become frightened by the sudden departure of our friends, I was

collecting my wits to console and reassure her, when she burst forth,

"Oh, Madame--Madame--the _pates--_"

"Well?"

"The lovely _pates!_--all burned to cinders! Such a waste!"

In our excitement we had forgotten to take from the oven two handsome

_Pates de lievre_ of which I was more than duly proud. And as Nini

expressed it, they were burned to cinders. How H. chuckled at our first

domestic mishap.

"Fine cooks, you are," said he, turning to Berthe and Nini, who hung

their heads and blushed crimson. "And it's to you that I'm going to

entrust Madame when I leave!"

Tuesday, the fourth, the drum rolled at an early hour and the

_garde-champetre_ announced the declaration of war. It was not news to

anyone, for all had considered the mobilization as the real thing.

We were breakfasting when we heard a strange rumbling up the road. It

was such a funny noise--midway between that of a steam roller and a

threshing machine--that we both went out towards the lodge to see what

was passing by. We were not a little surprised on perceiving our

gendarmes sitting in an antiquated motor, whose puffing and wheezing

betokened its age. They stopped when they saw us, and after exchanging

greetings, laughingly poked fun at their vehicle--far less imposing than

their well-groomed horses, but the only thing that could cover between

seventy and eighty miles a day! From them we learned that the

mobilization was being carried out in perfection, and in all their tours

to outlying villages and hamlets not a single delinquent had been found

--not a single man was missing! All had willingly answered the call to

arms!

Between the excitement and all the work that had to be done at Villiers,

time passed with phenomenal rapidity. As yet we had had no occasion to

perceive the lack of mail and daily papers, and though I had always had

a sub-conscious feeling that H. would eventually receive his marching

orders, it was rather a shock when they came. Being in a frontier

department he was called out earlier than expected. And instead of

being sent around-circuit way to reach his regiment south of Paris, he

was ordered to gain _Chateau Thierry_ at once, and there await

instructions.

Of course I packed and unpacked his bag for the twentieth time since

Sunday, in the hope of finding a tiny space to squeeze in one more

useful article--and then descending, I jumped into the cart and waited

for him to join me. In spite of the solemnity of the moment, I couldn't

help laughing when he appeared, for disdaining the immaculate costume I

had carefully laid out, he had put on a most disreputable-looking pair

of trousers, and an old paint-stained Norfolk jacket. A faded flannel

shirt and a silk bandanna tied about his throat completed this weird

accoutrement, which was topped by a long-vizored cap and a dilapidated

canvas gunny sack, the latter but half full and slung lightly over one

shoulder. Anticipating my question, he explained that it was useless to

throw away a perfectly new suit of clothes. When he should receive his

uniform, his civilian outfit ought to be put in safe keeping for his

return. This was customary in time of peace, but who could tell?--he

might never even get a uniform, let alone hoping to see the clothes

again.

And then, when I began examining the paltry contents of his sack, he

made light of my disappointment, saying that his father, who had served

in the campaign of 1870, had always told him that a ball of strong

string and a jackknife were sufficient baggage for any soldier. I

supposed he ought to know, and was just going to ask another question,

when--

"Listen," he said, as he put his foot on the step. "Listen--before I

forget. My will is at my notary's in Paris, and on your table is a

letter to your father--if anything happens to me you know what to do."

We drove away in silence.

I let the horses walk almost all the way home and my thoughts were busy,

very busy along the way. Here I was alone--husband and friends had

vanished as by magic. My nearest relatives over five thousand miles

away--and communication with the outside world entirely cut off, for

Heaven knew how long. Evidently there was nothing to do but to face the

situation, especially as all those in my employ save Julie were under

twenty, and looked to me for moral support. This was no time to

collapse. If I broke down anarchy would reign at once.

But what to do? Go on living like a hermit on that great big estate?

The idea appalled me. It seemed such a useless existence--and in a few

moments' time I had decided to turn the place into a hospital. But how

and to whom should I offer it?

I stopped at the _Gendarmerie_, where our friends were able to give me

information.

"The nearest sanitary formation was Soissons--the Red Cross Society. The

president would probably be able to help me--" So I thanked the

_gendarme_ and left there, having decided to drive thence on the morrow.

Soissons is but twenty miles as a bird flies, but almost double that by

the winding roadway, and I was calculating what time I should start and

where I would rest the span, as I entered the yard.

"Anything new, George?" I said, as he took the bridle.

"Nothing, Madame, save that we have received orders that all the horses

must be presented at Chateau Thierry for the revision to-morrow before

ten."

"All the horses?"

"Yes, Madame, with full harnessing, halters and the farm carts."

That was a surprise! Suppose they are all taken, thought I, I shall be

almost a prisoner. And my trip to Soissons?

"Don't unharness!" I called, as George drove towards the stable. "I'm

going back to Charly."

In our little township I managed to buy a lady's bicycle. "It may come

in handy," I thought. It was the last machine that was left. From the

shop I went to the hotel.

"Where's your husband?" I said to the proprietress.

"Why, he's gone with the chauffeur to take our motorbuses and taxi to

the requisition committee."

"What?"

"Yes, Madame."

"But I wanted him to motor me over to Soissons to-morrow!"

"Well, if he gets back to-night and they leave him a single machine,

I'll let you know, Madame."

In the afternoon the drum beat anew and I learned that all the bakers in

the village (there were three of them) having been called to the front,

we were likely to be without the staff of life. In the presence,

therefore, of the impending calamity, the village government had decided

to take over the bakery--it had found an old man and a very young

apprentice who would do the work, but each citizen was requested to

declare the number of persons composing his household and in order to

economize flour, so much bread would be allowed per bead and each family

must come and fetch his supply at the town hall between eleven and

twelve o'clock!

Needless to say, it must be paid for in cash, though the Board reserved

the right to look after the village poor. In like manner, all the salt

had been reserved for the army, and we were to be rationed to

seventy-five grammes a week per person! It all sounded rather terrible,

but when put into practice it was proved that the rations were very

generous and no one had reason to complain.

By four o'clock the next morning there was a perpetual stream of farm

carts down the road leading towards Chateau Thierry. I dressed and went

to the stables where George and Leon were already harnessing. More than

once I had a tight feeling in my throat as I patted the glossy backs of

dear old Cesar and my lovely span.

The girls had decorated the carts with huge bunches of poppies, daisies

and corn-flowers and in addition to these tri-color bouquets, a little

branch of laurel was stuck up over each horse's bridle. There was a

generous distribution of sugar, and each horse was kissed on the tip of

his nose, and then the boys joined the procession on the highroad.

I watched them out of sight. "Shall we ever get through saying

'good-bye'? When will these departures cease?" thought I, as I turned

from the gate. But I was given no time to muse, for a most amazing

clamor arose from a gateway a little higher up the road, and glancing in

that direction, I saw old father Poupard leading his horse and cart into

the open. He was followed by his wife and daughter-in-law, two brawny

peasant women, who were loudly lamenting the departure of their steed!

"No, no!" literally howled mother Poupard.

"This is the last straw! Both sons gone, and now our horse! Who's

going to bring in our crop? The Lord is unjust."

"And brother's babies--poor motherless things--in an orphan asylum at

Epernay! How can we get to them now? Oh, no! Oh, no--" wailed Julia.

"Poupard!" exclaimed his wife, drying her tears on the corner of her

apron and fixing her sharp blue eyes on her husband, "Poupard, no

loitering! If they pay you for your horse, remember, no foolishness.

You bustle back here with the money--we need you to help in the

vineyard."

"This is no time for sprees," wept Julia.

"Father Poupard," admonished his irate mate, brandishing a spade,

"Father Poupard, mind what I say!"

And then in a more moderate tone, but which was distinctly audible some

thirty yards away, "I've put a bottle into your lunch basket. You won't

need to buy anything more."

There was a distinct emphasis on the word _buy_, which told me that

mother Poupard, evidently accustomed to her husband's ways, had provided

plentifully for his journey but had carefully emptied his pockets before

he started.

I went back to my preserves, but as the day wore on the lack of all

communication with the outside world began to prey on me. Towards four

o'clock I took my bicycle and started down to Charly. A quarter of a

mile from our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason had driven two

huge posts, into the ground on either side of the road, and was swinging

a heavy chain between them.

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who stood in the doorway surveying

the work. He explained that he had received instructions to the effect

that all passers-by unknown to this village were to be stopped and asked

for their papers. The men and boys who remained were to take turns

mounting guard, and thus to help to eradicate the circulation of spies.

Two suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had already been signaled.

Should they appear and fail to produce their papers, immediate arrest

would follow. Should they offer the slightest opposition or attempt

escape, the sentinels had orders to shoot.

I enquired if it would be necessary for we to have a _sauf-conduit,_

being bound for Charly, and possibly the station at Nogent, where I

hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would throw me a newspaper.

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly present me with the first

passport, and seemed wonderfully taken with my idea about the papers. He

admitted that living in darkness was beginning to get on his nerves,

too, and asked me, in case my plan should prove successful, if I would

be willing to put it on the public sign board so all could see the news.

I acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a few questions as to

names, age, characteristics and destination, he stamped the seal on my

paper, and I departed.

At Charly the same preparations had been made, and two elderly men,

leaning on their guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their

inspection.

At the hotel, the proprietor had just returned after having waited

nearly twenty-four hours in line to present his machines. All save one

had been bought for the army. But with his double-seated taxi he

promised to drive me to Soissons the following morning.

I continued my road, and reached Nogent to find that I was not alone in

my idea about begging the papers. Several others from neighboring

villages, so I heard, had already succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and

had driven off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding was very

simple. It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to

stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like

birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by. Then as it

whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, "_Les journaux! Les

jour-naux!_"

It worked like magic. We had hardly been there two minutes when a train

was signaled.

As it approached, we could see that engine and cars were decorated with

garlands of flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscriptions as,

"_Train de Plaisir pour Berlin,_" and numerous caricatures had been

chalked on the varnished sides of the carriages.

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful shouts, the boys gladly threw

us the papers which were welcomed like the rain of manna in the desert.

I managed to collect two, _L'Action Franfaise_, and _Le Bonnet Rouge_.

Until others and fresher were procured, the Royalist and the

Revolutionary sheets hung side by side on the public sign board at

Villiers, proving that under the Third Republic, _Liberte', Egalite',

Fraternite_ are not vain words.

The news of the violation of Luxembourg and Belgian territory created

less sensation than one might have expected. In the circumstances news

of any kind seemed a blessing.

There was still quite a gathering in front of the town hall when the

first carts began to return from the revision. They were few and far

between, compared with the double line that had driven past in the

morning. My heart leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, turn

into the court.

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shining. "Though still so game

that they nearly kept him. He's reserved for a second call."

"And Florentin and Cognac?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I

took it and read, "_Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc._"

"Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the

hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the

deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying

towards the stables. I followed.

"George! George!" called Julia.

"Well?" came the answer from within.

"George--where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones.

"How do I know?"

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?"

"I think so; yes."

"Then why didn't Poupard come back with you and Leon in the cart? Did

you see him?"

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"In front of a cafe as we drove past."

"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, _mon Dieu,_ what shall we do!

Oh, the wicked old man--if I had him here, I'd thrash him good!"

And mother Poupard began brandishing a pitch-fork with such violence

that I commenced to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she would

fall upon George to wreak vengeance.

"Oh, the old devil! Oh--"

"Look here, I'm not his nurse--now clear out, the lot of you!"

The injunction served its purpose, for remembering they were "not at

home," the two women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and lamenting in

such audible tones that their neighbors came out to see what was the

matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's threat of what she would do if

ever she got _le vieux_ into her clutches.

By six A. M. on the Friday I had breakfasted and was ready to leave for

Soissons. The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its appearance a few

moments later, and after a visit to the town hall, where we secured the

necessary passports, we set off on our journey.

At the entrance to every little village we were obliged to halt and

exhibit our papers--after which formality the chain would be let down

and we allowed to go our way.

Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau Thierry we could see the rows

of horses that had not yet been examined lined up along the square. The

commissaries had worked all night and their task was still far from

finished.

Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the chains were the only outward

signs that betokened the belligerent state of the country, and even then

as those who mounted guard were not in uniform, it seemed rather as

though we were passing a series of toll-gates. However, as we ran along

the splendid roads between the great fertile plains, I observed that the

harvesting was being done chiefly by women, and that the roads

themselves were empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those who had an

important errand were allowed on the _routes nationals_, thus kept clear

for the transport of troops or ammunition.

At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted at a railway crossing to let

a long, lazy train drag out of the station. When at length the bars

were drawn up, much excitement reigned on the little platform which we

had been unable to see from the other side of the rails. Young girls

with pails and dippers in their hands stood chattering with women in

wrappers, whose disheveled appearance told plainly that they had been

hastily awakened and had hurried thence without thinking of their

_toilette_.

"What is it?" I asked of the _garde-barriere_.

"Wounded!"

"Wounded?"

"Yes--the first. Not badly wounded and they are able to travel, but

unable to hold a gun. And they were all so thirsty!"

Poor fellows, thought I, already out of the ranks and the first week is

not yet passed.

More persuaded than ever of the utility of my mission, I did not stop

longer but pushed on towards Soissons. Half a mile further up the road,

an elderly man carrying a package, hailed the motor. We slowed down,

and hat in hand he approached.

"I beg pardon for the liberty I'm taking,"' he said, "but might I ask

where you're bound?"

"Soissons."

"You would be rendering a great service to the municipality if you would

allow me to ride with you in the empty seat. You see, the youngsters

who are left to reap the crops have broken the only machine in the

community, and we can't go on harvesting until it is repaired or

replaced. There are no mechanics left, and moreover, no horses that

could take us to Soissons to find one, so I've offered to go on

foot--but that means at least two full days lost before we can continue

our work."

"Get in at once," I said, and we rolled off.

It was not long before I had drawn his history from this village

alderman, an Alsatian by birth, and his tales of the war of 1870 helped

to wile away the time we were obliged to spend idling along the roadside

while our chauffeur repaired our first puncture. The emergency wheel

clapped on, we were soon en route again. My companion duly uncovered as

we passed the monument to the soldiers of the Franco-Prussian War,

almost hidden in a lovely chestnut grove, in the heart of the forest of

Hartennes.

On the outskirts of Soissons we came upon a squadron of the Ninth

Territorial Regiment, resting after the morning exercises. These

soldiers much resembled the "bushy-bearded" creatures whom I had seen

guarding the Eastern Railway, save that they were even more picturesque,

for most of them wore straw sombreros. As we passed the captain on his

horse, my companion lifted his hat and the officer replied with a

salute.

"A friend of yours?" I ventured.

"No. Never saw him before."

"But you bowed, I thought."

"Certainly. He's an officer on duty in time of war, and all civilians

owe him that courtesy."

I liked that and fancied it were old-time urbanity, though often since I

have seen it proved that the custom is not obsolete.

A little further on we came to a very jolly squadron, the cooks, who

were peeling fresh vegetables and pouring them into immense

wash-boilers, which, when filled, two privates seized by the handles and

carried towards a big barracks some hundred yards distant.

Presently we hit a cobbled road which must have been a joy to all heavy

machines, but which nearly jolted us out of our light vehicle. Patience

and good humor were very rapidly disappearing when we rounded a curve,

struck the good macadam, and I saw the twin spires of St. Jean rising

majestically against the clear blue summer sky.

At our right I noticed the entrance gate to a chateau over which hung a

big Red Cross, such as I coveted for my home, and then in a moment we

were already in a _faubourg_ of Soissons. It was not unlike the

entrance to any other provincial city in ordinary times, save that there

were many red-trousered men mixed in with the other population. There

were no chains across the road, but four soldiers in uniform mounted

guard. We showed _patte blanche_ and proceeded to ask for the Red Cross

headquarters.

"Madame Macherez is the president. You must go to her. Cross the city

and go out east towards St. Paul. Her chateau is there."

Naturally we headed straight for our destination, but were stopped every

other minute by police who side-tracked us into back streets. The big

thoroughfares must be kept clear for the army!

I set down my old friend near the town hall, and told him that I should

be returning about noon. If he were ready, I would be glad to give him

a lift. Would he meet us in front of the _Hotel du Soleil d'Or?_

He was delighted, and promised to be on time.

We crossed the Aisne; I must say rather heedlessly, little dreaming that

in so short a time it would be the object of such desperate and bloody

disputes--nor so historically famous.

The Chateau de St. Paul sits, or rather, sat back from the road,

surrounded by its lovely garden and a high wall. I left my motor and

entered the grounds, preceded by a servant who had opened the gate. In

a small drawing room I presented myself to a very charming young person

already installed behind a desk, though it was scarcely half-past eight,

and explained the object of my visit.

"Madame Macherez will be delighted. I'm her secretary, and I can assure

you she will do all she can to further your plans. Would you mind

waiting just a few moments? She'll be down presently. You see," she

continued, "we have been up all night. We suddenly had part of a

regiment quartered on us, and the officers who slept here were coming

and going most of the time. I beg you will excuse the dust, but they

haven't been gone long enough for us to make things tidy. There were

twenty here, and two hundred men in the outbuildings which makes quite a

_remue menage._"

Just then the president of the _Association des Dames Franpaises_ came

in.

Madame Macherez, a fine looking, elderly woman with iron-gray hair and

clear blue eyes, is the widow of former Senator Macherez. Her keen

understanding and wonderful business ability have won her the respect

and esteem of two entire nations; both friend and enemy are united in

their praises of this wonderful person.

I was not long in explaining my intentions--I could supply sixty beds,

with room for the double; would take all the management of a hospital,

gladly help with the nursing, but must have a doctor and other

professional aid.

Madame Macherez accepted my proposition, knew just the person I needed,

and taking off her badge pinned it on to the lapel of my coat and made

me a member of her society.

"Now, then, let's get through with the formalities at once. Here is

your _carte d'identite_. You must paste your photo on to it. With that

and an armlet stamped from the War Department you will have free access

to all the roads and you won't have to be bothered with other papers.

Let us go at once to the city hall, where they will stamp their seal on

your card, which makes it valid for your identity. From there we must

hunt out the colonel in command and get his seal. That makes it valid

with military authorities."

The president's motor was waiting outside the door.

"How long shall we be?"

"Ah, an hour at least."