Halfway across I distinguished two human forms leaning over the railing,
and following their example I perceived a half-dozen _hommes du genie_
hard at work mining the foundation of the center arch. So these bridges
were to be blown up, too! What was I to do? Stay on the other side and
wait for my caravan or cross over and risk my chances alone? A
reflector from below swung upward, illuminating the bridge.
"George!" I gasped.
One of the two figures straightened abruptly! In a second the boys had
recognized me. "What are you doing here? Where are the others?"
I poured out a dozen eager questions, not giving them time to reply.
When almost breathless I stopped and they explained that the caravan had
been halted on the outskirts of Melun. No refugees were allowed in
after nightfall. Fortunately the boys bethought themselves of my wounded
man's clothes and arms, and thanks to these they were allowed to pass
and deliver them to the gendarmerie. Remembering that I had friends at
Barbizon they had sent the others there by a round-about route, and had
come on to find me.
"But how did you get here?"
"Cesar brought us."
"Where is he? And Betsy?"
"Oh, we found a dentist who had an empty stable. He took them in. Betsy
refused to leave the cart. She's never had such a picnic in her life:
been traveling all day in a ten pound box of lump sugar!"
All worry had vanished, now that I found my line of conduct traced for
me. The chief thing at present was to get something to eat. So we
pushed ahead up the hill in the ever-deepening obscurity. We walked on
in silence for what seemed an interminable distance. Once I fancied I
had mistaken directions and was about to despair when the tramp of feet
coming toward us revived hope. A second later a brawny arm turned a
lantern into my face and a huge police dog growled close to my heels.
"Are you the person who is going to Dr. Masbrennier's?"
"Yes."
"_Tres bien_. Are these boys with you?"
"Yes."
"Then follow me. We're closing up the doctor's house, but I'll look
after you."
Without further ado we trudged on behind our guide, who after another
hundred yards, turned into a gateway and led us up the stone steps of a
sumptuous dwelling. Opening the door, he lit the electric light and
stepped into the vestibule.
"Come in," he said. "I'll be back in a moment." And he disappeared.
There we stood, Leon, George and myself, waiting for something to
happen, for someone to appear. Five--ten--fifteen minutes must have
elapsed--still not a sound anywhere. I was just beginning to wonder if
we had not been the dupes of some practical joke, when from a room
opening into the vestibule a light shone forth. The curtains parted and
our friend of the highroad appeared.
"Isn't much--but such as it is you're welcome. Sit down and make
yourselves comfortable." And again he disappeared.
On a snowy white table cloth three covers were laid and a tempting
supper composed of bread and butter, cheese, a bottle of white wine, and
a huge basket of most luscious hothouse grapes and pears--gladdened our
hungry gaze. We did not need a second invitation! We fell to with a
vengeance and at the end of a quarter-hour hardly a crumb remained.
"When you've finished, come upstairs; Madame will take the first door to
the right. You boys come up a flight higher," called a voice from
above.
We obeyed, and before retiring I waited a good half-hour hoping our
friend would reappear. But no one came--so bolting my door, I offered
up a prayer of thanks and was soon fast asleep.
Sunday morning, September sixth, the sun was high in the heavens when I
peeped from beneath my lace-bordered sheets and cocked my ear at the
familiar sound of the cannon. It was a long continuous roar, and now
that I had become accustomed to distancing I estimated that the battle
was on at Mormont. And I was not mistaken. A little later official
news confirmed my guess.
Finding no bell in my room, I opened the door to see a pitcher of hot
water sitting before it, and on a chair beside it, a new comb, a clean
linen duster, and a pocket handkerchief. A brief note told me that I
would find breakfast in the dining-room, and requested that I leave word
on the table saying at what time I would be in for luncheon. Decidedly
the mystery deepened--for not a sound could be heard save in the garden
where I spied George and Leon, who informed me that the house was empty,
and "a gorgeous house, Madame!" they ejaculated in admiration.
Though partially abandoned, Melun was full of life, thanks to the
presence of numerous British troops and that same long line of A. S.
C.'s now quadrupled on the highroad--two lines going, two lines coming.
As I picked my way between them, and crossed the street, my attention
was arrested by a French peasant who was conversing by means of the sign
language with the handsome driver of one of those vans, while several
children were clamoring to be allowed to sit on the seat a moment, "just
to see how it seemed."
"Can I be of any assistance?"
"Rather! Seems good to hear English, thank you."
"Really?"
"Yes. Might I ask where you come from?"
"The States."
"Do you know Cleveland?"
"Yes."
"Well, I've got a mother and three brothers buried in that cemetery.
Colonials, you know. I'm English--from Bath--oldest son. Couldn't see
things their way. Done better perhaps if I'd joined the others out
there."
I smiled at this unexpected and impromptu confession. The boy saw it
and reddened.
"Is there anything particular you want me to say to this man for you?"
said I quickly, to cover his embarrassment.
"No, thank you. But there's one thing you might be able to tell me."
"What?"
"Do you think we'll be 'home' in time to eat Christmas dinner?"
"Rather!"
"Thank you so much! Good-bye."
"Good-bye and good luck to you."
And after snapping his photograph I started on down the street in haste,
for I could see George and Leon, who had gone on ahead, now running
towards me.
"_Vite_, Madame. They need you!"
"Who?"
"The English. They can't make people understand."
I pressed forward, and came upon a crowd of gapers standing outside a
shop. Within two English officers were arguing in their native tongue
with an irate butcher, who waved one arm wildly in the air, and
brandished a huge knife in the other, shouting frantically all the
while,
"La' voila-la voila!" said George and Leon, almost dragging me forward,
proud to exhibit my accomplishments. "_La voila! Vous etes sauves._"
My greatest desire was to turn about and run, but the crowd parted to
let me through.
"Would you mind, Madame?" pleaded the lieutenant. "We need your
assistance to make this man understand that we're drafting meat for the
army. We'll pay cash, but be might just as well give it gracefully, for
we have the right to force his ice box if he refuses."
I explained gently, and when things were calm was about to slip away.
The officer touched me on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Madame, but I'm afraid we'll have to draft you, too. Our
time is limited and if a scene like this happen at every shop we'll be
punished for tardiness! Here's my order to draft an interpreter," and
he put his hand into his pocket.