Yes, surely. But what cavalry? Ours?
Curiosity got the better of me, and I put my head out of the empty sash
to behold a most pathetic sight. There in the pouring rain stood some
twenty shivering horses, once fine animals' but now wounded and broken.
The lamentable little group, left-behinds of the invaders, was headed by
my old gray donkey, who had gathered them together and was now leading
them towards warmth and shelter. This sympathy among animals moved me
deeply, and I started down to see what I could do to alleviate their
suffering.
I am ashamed to say, however, that I never reached the stable, for the
sights of filth and horror that I met on the way so distracted me that I
pushed on through the whole house, anxious to see really how much damage
had been done.
I was still making my disheartening rounds when the others drove into
the yard, and the wails of lamentation rose long and loud from their
lips.
How can one describe it? It seems almost impossible. Too much has
already been said, too little is really known, so I shall content myself
with a few brief statements.
Above all I would have it understood that the chateau was first occupied
by General von Muck and his staff. The names crayoned on the doors of
my bedrooms in big red letters bear testimony--as well as some soiled
under-linen and a _glassentuch_ marked v. K.--and numerous papers
stamped with the Imperial seal. These latter are all orders or reports
belonging to the third army corps, and were left behind in the
precipitation of the flight!
As I now am able to see the matter in a cooler frame of mind, I realize
that not only was efficiency carried out in warfare but in looting--for
it seems that everything we possessed was systematically classified as
good, bad or indifferent--the former and the latter being carefully
packed into huge army supply carts, which for five long days stood
backed up against our doorstep, leaving only when completely laden with
spoils.
Then what remained was thrown into corners and willfully soiled and
smeared in the most disgusting and nauseating manner.
A proof of the above-mentioned efficiency can be given in a description
of my husband's studio, where I found all the frames standing empty--the
canvases having been carefully cut from them with a razor, and rolled
for convenience' sake.
Useless to mention that tapestries, silver, jewels, blankets and
household, as well as personal linen, were considered trophies of war.
That to me is far more comprehensible than the fact that our chateau
being installed with all modern sanitary conveniences, these were
purposely ignored, and corridors and comers, satin window curtains and
even beds, were used for the most ignoble purposes.
Everywhere were sickening traces of sodden drunkenness. On the table
beside each bed (most of them now bereft of their mattresses) stood
champagne bottles, and half emptied glasses. The straw-strewn
drawing-room much resembled a cheap beer garden after a Saturday night's
riot, and the unfortunate upright piano was not only decked with empty
champagne bottles but also contained some two to three hundred pots of
jam poured down inside--glass and all, probably just for a joke. Oh,
_Kultur!_
I think that and the fact that most of my ducks and small animals had
been killed and left to lie and rot, were the things that most angered
me, and every time the guns boomed I prayed ardently for revenge!
And 'twas I, who believing in Teuton chivalry, had imagined my
love-letters, protected by my country's emblem, would be respected! My
poor little rosewood desk had been mercilessly jabbed with bayonets, and
its contents strewn from one end of the village to the other. As to the
Stars and Stripes, when we finally disgorged the pipes of certain
sanitary apparatus that one does not usually mention in polite society,
they were found there in a lamentable condition and carried to the
wash-house with a tongs.
What a destitute little village we were. Mine was but the common lot,
for each one had lost in proportion to his fortune. Yet there was no
lamenting. There was work to be done, for the vintage season was coming
on and the vines in most places had been respected. The German officers
had even announced the fact that our country was already annexed, and
that this was to be the champagne to commemorate the triumph of the
Fatherland!
My little servants took hold of their filthy job and worked unceasingly
though it was a thankless task--for soap and soda did not exist, and
food, save the vegetables and a little pork, was hard to get.
A week sped by, and then one afternoon a military auto drove up to the
door. As I saw it enter the yard, I trembled lest it bring bad tidings
of H., but a kindly officer reassured me, by stating that though he
brought only word of mouth, my husband was still in the land of the
living. He also announced that it was his duty to requisition my
property as a French emergency hospital and that he would be obliged if
I would put all the beds I owned at his disposal. A doctor and some
_infirmiers_ would be sent immediately to put the place in working
order. Would I help? And did I know of anyone I would care to have
with me?
"You will be voluntary prisoners, you know, for this is the _zone de
operations_, and you will not be allowed to leave."