"Might I ask when you will release me?"
"Just as soon as we've the supply we need."
"Will you give me ten minutes to arrange my affairs here?"
"Certainly. But remember you're on parole!"
Outside I explained the situation to George and Leon, and scribbling a
note to friends in Barbizon, told the boys to drive over and reassure
the others--make them comfortable at the _Clef d'Or,_ and tell them to
expect me that evening.
"Whatever happens, wait there until I come. There's no danger of the
Germans reaching Barbizon, I fancy!"
And that is how from nine in the morning until late in the afternoon I
sat perched on the front of a British Army Supply truck, much to the
amusement of the other Tommy Atkins we encountered in Melun and the
neighboring villages.
My officer friends very courteously drove me to the hospital where I
learned that my poor wounded _chasseur_ Ballandreau had passed away in
the night, and towards five o'clock, when their task was completed, they
offered me tea and proposed to drive me to Barbizon. As we jolted down
the hill towards the railway crossing our attention was attracted by a
huge gathering of citizens and soldiers, and above the roar of our
motor, we could hear the rolling of a drum. Silence reigned instantly
and an officer in uniform in the middle of the group read out a short
message from a paper he held in his hand. What he said we could not
hear, but the mad shout of joy that went up when he had finished made us
eager to learn the news. Like lightning "Paris saved--the Germans
retreating" ran from mouth to mouth, and the delirious excitement that
seized that crowd was absolutely indescribable. Young and old, English,
and French, peasant and bourgeois, fell on each other's necks and
exchanged a joyous embrace. The awful tension of the last month was
broken and the word victory was uttered by thousands of throats,
suddenly grown husky with emotion.
My arrival and the news I bore created a sensation among my servants and
the remaining inhabitants of Millet's famous village. Barbizon was
dead--literally deserted, for not a single member of that delightful
summer colony remained, several hotels were closed, and the others as
empty as in the heart of winter. The proprietress of the _Clef d'Or_
made me a very tempting offer for a _sejour_, but I judged, and rightly,
that since the German retreat had begun, we would best follow on close
behind the victorious army, for if we waited until order was restored,
patrols would be organized and we who had no papers to identify us would
not be allowed to pass.
Before retiring I announced my intention of starting homeward, and the
joy that illuminated those anxious faces somewhat calmed my own
misgivings, for now that our adventure was safely over, I couldn't help
worrying about the absent.
When I touched my bed, I bethought me of my lodging the night before,
and realized that I knew neither the name nor address of the generous
person in whose sumptuous domicile I had been so cordially received and
graciously cared for. How and whom was I to thank?
Leon, Emile and a sturdy butcher boy from Charly who had joined the
others on the road, had now determined to enlist--so I could but
encourage their patriotic sentiments, and went with them to the
recruiting office to furnish proof of their identity.
Evidently many other youths under military age had been inspired with
the same idea, for there was a long line outside the door, and as we
stood and waited, we examined with interest the mounts of the English
cavalry regiment lined up in the street awaiting their riders. George
and Leon were eagerly fingering a long coil of rope thrown on the pommel
of one saddle, when a deep voice from behind them ejaculated,
"Guess you ain't ever seen the likes of that before. That's a lasso."
I explained, and then looking round, beheld a long, lanky individual,
his hands on his hips, literally taking us all in.
"Do you think you can tell 'em what that is, sister?"
"I fancy so."
"Then you must be from home!"
"If you mean the States--yes."
"To h--with the States! The State--Texas!"
I didn't find it necessary to translate that. "Say, you haven't by any
chance got a razor about you?" he inquired. I replied that I was not in
the habit of carrying such articles on my person.
"No offense meant--but since you speak this language, perhaps you could
persuade one of them kids to go and buy me one."
I said I thought I might, and my compatriot producing an American double
eagle, enjoined Leon to be quick and he'd make it worth his while.
"You see," he explained, "a razor is all I need to complete my outfit.
Got a Winchester, two revolvers, a Bowie knife, a lance and a lasso.
Razor's flat and easy to carry. Might be useful, too. Nothing like
being properly armed. If I've got to sell my hide you bet I'll sell it
dear!"
Leon returned and I was about to ask my friend to give us a little
exhibition of his skill with the rope, when the call to arms obliged him
to leave. So enjoining me to give his regards to Broadway, he departed
much pleased with the world in general and himself in particular.
From various sources, though none of them official, I learned that the
road as far as Coulommiers was clear. That was all we wanted to know,
so after seeing the boys off for Orleans, a very much diminished caravan
started on its homeward journey. The horses, after two days' rest, were
quite giddy, and the carts being light, they carried us on the new road
north as far as Pezarches with but few halts. The country we passed
through, though abandoned by its inhabitants, showed no traces of
invasion. The Germans had not been able to push so far west. I counted
on making Coulonimiers to sleep, but night closed in early and with it
came a chilly drizzle, which sent us in search of lodgings. Not a soul
was to be seen anywhere, and as all the houses were shut, I deemed it
unwise to force a door. So we pushed ahead into the border of the
forest, hoping that the rain would soon cease.
Presently someone discovered an abandoned hermitage, through whose low
doorway we crept, and spreading out our blankets on the floor, prepared
to make a night of it--glad of shelter from the dampness.
"Hark!" hissed George, just as we were dropping off to sleep.
We all sat up.
"There! That's the third bullet that's landed on this roof!"
Ra-ta-pan-Ratapan! There was no mistaking the sound--even through the
wind and rain that raged outside.
George crawled on his knees toward the opening, and a second later
jumped back, clapping his hand to his head with a low shriek.
"He's shot!" cried Julie.
I leaped forward, grabbed the lantern, and holding it to the spot,
opened the boy's clenched fingers. As they parted, a heavy horse
chestnut burr fell to the floor with a loud thump!
We were too nervous to appreciate the humor of the situation, and had
some little difficulty composing ourselves to rest.
As we approached Coulommiers the next morning the horrors of war became
more and more evident. On both sides of the roadway the fields were
strewn with bay and straw. Every ten paces the earth was burned or
charred, and in some places the smoke still rose from dying campfires.
Bones, bottles and tin preserve cans in extraordinary quantities were
strewn in every direction, and a half mile before we reached the town
itself, a dead horse lay abandoned in a ditch.
At this point we were hailed by a party of bedraggled refugees who
warned us that it would be useless to try to enter Coulommiers.
"We're from Neuilly--St. Front, on our way home, but there doesn't seem
much chance of our getting any further. The place is in the hands of
the military authorities--with orders to let no one pass."
We halted, and George went on ahead and interviewed a sentry, returning
with a negative reply, and the information that Coulommiers was in a
pretty mess after the looting.
"It can't be worse than _La Ferte Gauche._" And above the almost
deafening roar of the cannon an elderly man told us bow his caravan had
been caught by the Germans, stripped of everything they possessed,
separated from their women folk, and with armed sentries back of them
had been forced to work at the building of a temporary bridge to replace
the one the French had blown up.
"I got off easy--with only a few welts from a raw-hide," he murmured,
"but my brother (and he pointed to a very stout masculine figure rolled
in a blanket and sitting motionless on the steps of an abandoned road
house)--"my brother's nearly done for! You see he's near-sighted and
not used to manual labor, and every time he missed his nail with the
hammer, the German coward would jab him in the ribs with the point of
his bayonet. Seventy-two wounds!"
"And your women?"
"God knows what they did to them! My wife hasn't stopped sobbing since
we met. She's dazed--I can't make her talk."
As he rambled on with his haphazard story, glad of fellow sympathy, I
spied a line of British Army Supply carts advancing up the road. The
leader came to a halt and getting down, the driver entered the first of
the abandoned dwellings before which we were standing. Presently he
reappeared.
"Just my luck! I say"--(and this addressed to our group with a sort of
blank, hopeless expression) "I don't suppose any of you Frenchies know
where I could get a cup of tea!"