THE PRISONERS RELEASED
The first dread days, when the Boy, heavy with fever, seemed scarcely to
realise our presence, were swiftly followed by placid hours when he lay
and smiled in blissful content, craving nothing, now that we were all
together again. But this state of beatitude was quickly ousted by a
period of discontent, when the hunger fiend reigned supreme in the
little room.
"_Manger, manger, manger, tout le temps!"_ Thus the nurse epitomised the
converse of her charges. And indeed she was right, for, from morning
till night, the prisoners' solitary topic of conversation was food.
During the first ten days their diet consisted solely of boiled milk,
and as that time wore to a close the number of quarts consumed increased
daily, until Paul, the chief porter, seemed ever ascending the little
outside stair carrying full bottles of milk, or descending laden with
empty ones.
"Milk doesn't count. When shall we be allowed food, _real_ food?" was
the constant cry, and their relief was abounding when, on Christmas Day,
the doctor withdrew his prohibition, and permitted an approach to the
desired solids. But even then the prisoners, to their loudly voiced
disappointment, discovered that their only choice lay between vermicelli
and tapioca, nursery dishes which at home they would have despised.
"_Tapioca!_ Imagine tapioca for a Christmas dinner!" the invalids
exclaimed with disgust. But that scorn did not prevent them devouring
the mess and eagerly demanding more. And thereafter the saucepan
simmering over the gas-jet in the outer room seemed ever full of savoury
spoon-meat.
I doubt if any zealous mother-bird ever had a busier time feeding her
fledglings than had the good Sister in satisfying the appetites of these
callow cormorants. To witness the French nun seeking to allay the hunger
of these voracious schoolboy aliens was to picture a wren trying to fill
the ever-gaping beaks of two young cuckoos whom an adverse fate had
dropped into her nest.
As the days wore by, the embargo placed upon our desire to cater for the
invalids was gradually lifted, and little things such as sponge biscuits
and pears crept in to vary the monotony of the milk diet.
New Year's Day held a tangible excitement, for that morning saw a
modified return to ordinary food, and, in place of bottles of milk,
Paul's load consisted of such tempting selections from the school meals
as were deemed desirable for the invalids. Poultry not being included in
the school menus, we raided a cooked-provision shop and carried off a
plump, well-browned chicken. The approbation which met this venture
resulted in our supplying a succession of _poulettes_, which, at the
invalids' express desire, were smuggled into their room under my cloak.
Not that there was the most remote necessity for concealment, but the
invalids, whose sole interest centred in food, laboured under the absurd
idea that, did the authorities know they were being supplied from
without, their regular meals would be curtailed to prevent them
over-eating.
The point of interest, for the Red-Cross prisoners at least, in our
morning visits lay in the unveiling of the eatables we had brought.
School food, however well arranged, is necessarily stereotyped, and the
element of the unknown ever lurked in our packages. The sugar-sticks,
chocolates, fruit, little cakes, or what we had chanced to bring, were
carefully examined, criticised, and promptly devoured.
A slight refreshment was served them during our short stay, and when we
departed we left them eagerly anticipating luncheon. At gloaming, when
we returned, it was to find them busy with half-yards of the long crusty
loaves, plates of jelly, and tumblers, filled with milk on our Boy's
part, and with well diluted wine on that of his fellow sufferer.
Fear of starvation being momentarily averted, the Soeur used to light
fresh candles around the tiny Holy _Bébé_ on the still green
Christmas-tree, and for a space we sat quietly enjoying the radiance.
But by the time the last candle had flickered out, and the glow of a
commonplace paraffin lamp lighted the gloom, nature again demanded
nourishment; and we bade the prisoners farewell for the night, happy in
the knowledge that supper, sleep, and breakfast would pleasantly while
away the hours till our return.
The elder Red-Cross knight was a tall, good-looking lad of sixteen, the
age when a boy wears painfully high collars, shaves surreptitiously--and
unnecessarily--with his pen-knife, talks to his juniors about the
tobacco he smokes in a week, and cherishes an undying passion for a
maiden older than himself. He was ever an interesting study, though I do
not think I really loved him until he confided his affairs of the heart,
and entrusted me with the writing of his love-letters. I know that
behind my back he invariably referred to me as "Ma"; but as he openly
addressed the unconscious nun as "you giddy old girl," "Ma" might almost
be termed respectful, and I think our regard was mutual.
All things come to him who waits. There came a night when for the last
time we sat together around the little tree, watching the Soeur light the
candles that illuminated the Holy _Bébé_. On the morrow the prisoners,
carefully disinfected, and bearing the order of their release in the
form of a medical certificate, would be set free.
It clouded our gladness to know that before the patient Sister stretched
another period of isolation. Just that day another pupil had developed
scarlet fever, and only awaited our boys' departure to occupy the little
room. Hearing that this fresh prisoner lay under sentence of durance
vile, we suggested that all the toys--chiefly remnants of shattered
armies that, on hearing of the Boy's illness, we had brought from the
home playroom he had outgrown--might be left for him instead of being
sent away to be burnt.
The Boy's bright face dulled. "If it had been anybody else! But, mother,
I don't think you know that he is the one French boy we disliked. It was
he who always shouted '_à bas les Anglais!_' in the playground."
The reflection that for weary weeks this obnoxious boy would be the only
inmate of the _boîte_, as the invalids delighted to call their
sick-room, overcame his antipathetic feeling, and he softened so far as
to indite a polite little French note offering his late enemy his
sympathy, and formally bequeathing to him the reversion of his toys,
including the _arbre de Noël_ with all its decorations, except the
little waxen Jesus nestling in the manger of yellow corn; the Soeur had
already declared her intention of preserving that among her treasures.
The time that had opened so gloomily had passed, and now that it was
over we could look back upon many happy hours spent within the dingy
prison walls. And our thoughts were in unison, for the Boy, abruptly
breaking the silence, said: "And after all, it hasn't been such a bad
time. Do you know, I really think I've rather enjoyed it!"
L'ENVOI
[Illustration: L'Envoi]
Heavy skies lowered above us, the landscape seen through the driving
mist-wreaths showed a depressing repetition of drabs and greys as we
journeyed towards Calais. But, snugly ensconced in the _train rapide_,
our hearts beat high with joy, for at last were we homeward bound. The
weeks of exile in the stately old town had ended. For the last time the
good Sister had lit us down the worn stone steps. As we sped seawards
across the bleak country, our thoughts flew back to her, and to the
little room with the red cross on its casement, wherein, although our
prisoners were released, another term of nursing had already begun for
her. In contrast with her life of cheerful self-abnegation, ours seemed
selfish, meaningless, and empty.
Dear nameless Sister! She had been an angel of mercy to us in a
troublous time, and though our earthly paths may never again cross, our
hearts will ever hold her memory sacred.
_By the same Author_
OUR STOLEN SUMMER
THE RECORD OF A ROUNDABOUT TOUR
BY
MARY STUART BOYD
WITH ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SKETCHES BY A.S. BOYD
_Extracts from Reviews_
THE WORLD.--"To be able to go round the world nowadays, and write a
descriptive record of the tour that is vivid and fresh is a positive
literary feat. It has been successfully accomplished in _Our Stolen
Summer_ by Mrs. Boyd, who with no ulterior object in making a book
journeyed over four continents in company with her husband, and picked
up _en route_ matter for one of the pleasantest, most humorous, and
least pretentious books of travel we have read for many a day. It is
admirably illustrated by Mr. A.S. Boyd, whose sense of humour happily
matches that of his observant wife, and the reader who can lay aside
this picturesque and truly delightful volume without sincere regret must
have a dull and dreary mind."
PUNCH.--"_Our Stolen Summer_ is calculated to lead to wholesale breakage
of the Eighth Commandment. Certainly, my Baronite, reading the
fascinating record of a roundabout tour, feels prompted to steal away.
Mary Stuart Boyd, who pens the record, has the great advantage of the
collaboration of A.S.B., whose signature is familiar in _Mr. Punch's_
Picture Gallery.... A charming book."
SPECTATOR.--"The writer, by the help of a ready pen and of the pencil of
a skilful illustrator, has given us in this handsome volume a number of
attractive pictures of distant places.... It is good to read and
pleasant to look at."
TRUTH.--"You will find no pleasanter holiday reading than _Our Stolen
Summer_."
ACADEMY.--"A fresh record, and worth the reading. Of such is Mrs. Boyd's
volume, which her husband has illustrated profusely with spirited line
drawings."
FIELD.--"One of the brightest books of travel that it has been our good
fortune to read. The illustrations deserve a notice to themselves. They
are far and away better than those which we usually get in books of this
kind, and we do not know that we can bestow higher praise on them than
to say that they are worthy of the letterpress which they illustrate."
LAND AND WATER.--"A delightful sketch of a delightful journey.... _Our
Stolen Summer_ is a book which will be read with equal delight on a lazy
summer holiday, or in the heart of London when the streets are enveloped
in fog and the rain is beating against the window panes. Mr. Boyd's
sketches are simply admirable."
SPHERE.--"A delightful record of travel. Mrs. Boyd is never dull, and
there is plenty of acute observation throughout her pleasant story of
travel. My Boyd's illustrations which appear on practically every page,
are, it need scarcely be said, up to the high level that is already
familiar to students of his black-and-white work."
LADIES' FIELD.--"A singularly delightful and unaffected book of travel."
MADAME.--"One of the most delightful books of travel it has been our
good fortune to read."
MORNING POST.--"If the encouragement of globe-trotting be a virtuous
action, then certainly Mrs. Stuart Boyd has deserved well of her
country. To read her book is to conceive an insensate desire to be off
and away on 'the long trail' at all hazards and at all costs.... Mr.
Boyd's illustrations add greatly to the interest and charm of the book.
There is movement, atmosphere, and sunshine in them."
STANDARD.--"Mrs. Boyd went with her husband round the world, and the
latter--an artist with a sense of humour--kept his hand in practice by
making droll sketches of people encountered by the way, which heighten
the charm of his wife's vivacious description of a _Stolen Summer_. Mrs.
Boyd has quick eyes and an open mind, and writes with sense and
sensibility."
DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"It is not so much what Mrs. Boyd has to tell as the
invariable good humour and brightness with which she records even the
most familiar things that makes the charm of her excellent diary."
DAILY CHRONICLE.--"Mrs. Boyd has written the log with sparkle and
observation--seeing many things that the mere man-traveller would miss.
Mr. Boyd's sketches are, of course, excellent."
PALL MALL GAZETTE.--"Mrs. Boyd writes with so much buoyancy, and her
humour is so unexpected and unfailing, that it is safe to say that there
is not a dull page from first to last in this record of a tour round the
world... Mr. A.S. Boyd's numerous illustrations show him at his very
best."
GLOBE.--"A work to acquire as well as to peruse."
WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.--"The narrative from beginning to end does not
contain a dull page. Of Mr. Boyd's numerous sketches it is only
necessary to say that they are excellent. Altogether _Our Stolen Summer_
will be found to be one of the most fascinating of recent books of
travel."
SUNDAY TIMES.--"Brilliantly and entertainingly written, and liberally
illustrated by an acknowledged master of the art of black and white."
SCOTSMAN.--"A beautiful and fascinating book.... Pen and pencil sketches
alike have grace, nerve, and humour, and are alive with human interest
and observation."
GLASGOW HERALD.--"One of the most delightful travel-books of recent
times.... Mrs. Boyd's volume must commend itself to people who
contemplate visiting the other side of the globe and to all stay-at-home
travellers as well."
DAILY FREE PRESS.--"Mrs. Boyd is an admirable descriptive
writer--observant, humorous, and sympathetic. Without illustrations,
_Our Stolen Summer_ would be a notable addition to the literature of
travel; with Mr. Boyd's collaboration it is almost unique."
LEEDS MERCURY.--"Vivacious and diverting record."
YORKSHIRE DAILY POST.--"For such a book there could be nothing but
praise if one wrote columns about it."
BIRMINGHAM DAILY POST.--"A singularly happy and interesting record of a
most enjoyable tour."
NORTHERN WHIG.--"Shrewdness of observation, with not a little humour and
a real literary gift, mark the story of _Our Stolen Summer_."
THE BOOKMAN.--"Mrs. Boyd writes with so much brightness, such vivacity
and picturesqueness of style, that although the volume runs to close
upon four hundred pages there is not a dull page among them. The success
of _Our Stolen Summer_, however, is due as much to the artist as to the
author; and praise must be equally divided. Mr. Boyd's sketches are
spirited, clever, full of humour and sympathetic observation. Without a
word of letter-press they would have formed an excellent travel-book;
taken in conjunction with Mrs. Boyd's narrative they are irresistible."
LONDON AND EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS
Illustrated by A.S. Boyd
A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN
BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
WITH TWENTY-SEVEN PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY A.S. BOYD
_Extracts from Reviews_
THE TIMES.--"The characters whom Stevenson had in his mind's eye are all
cleverly pictured, and the drawings may be truthfully said to illustrate
the writer's ideas--a quality that seldom resides in illustrations....
All are faithfully presented as only one who has known them intimately
could present them.... Mr. Boyd's talent for black-and-white work has
never found happier expression."
MORNING POST.--"It is impossible to imagine anything more likely to
appeal to the sentiment of the Scottish people throughout the world than
this series of pictures, instinct with the spirit of their land."
DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"One of the happiest combinations of author and artist
which has been seen of late years. Mr. Boyd has entered thoroughly into
the spirit of the lines, and his figures are instinct with graceful
humour."
DAILY CHRONICLE.--"Mr. Boyd is to be congratulated (as R. L. S. would
assuredly have granted) upon interpreting so vividly a notable feature
in the national life of Scotland."
ATHENAEUM.--"The task of illustrating Stevenson's verses was most
difficult, because it demands from the artist knowledge of local
circumstances and characteristic details. Mr. Boyd's success in making
us see so plainly the moods and manners of the 'restin' ploughman' while
he 'daundered' in his garden and 'raxed his limbs' is the more to be
enjoyed and praised."
PALL MALL GAZETTE.--"Followers of the master will appreciate this
beautiful book for its accurate interpretation of the poem as well as
for its excellent drawing."
ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.--"There is plenty of good Scotch character in the
illustrations, and a quiet observation of the humours of a parish, with
such annals as those recorded by Gait."
ACADEMY.--"An attractive book."
SATURDAY REVIEW.--"In saying therefore that Mr. Boyd's
illustrations--there is a full page drawing for each verse--are not only
worthy of the poem, but actually emphasise and define its merits, we
give the book the highest possible praise. It is a volume which should
be added to the library of every collector."
SPECTATOR.--"These illustrations to Mr. Stevenson's Scots poem are
distinctly clever, especially in their characterisation of the various
attendants at the village kirk."
SPEAKER.--"The book presents very vividly some of the aspects (both
humorous and pathetic) of a Scottish rural lowland parish, and will
doubtless touch a chord in the heart of Scotsmen throughout the world."
OUTLOOK.--"Many of Mr. Stevenson's admirers the world over have long
desired that such a classic poem should be faithfully and adequately
illustrated, and they will give a hearty welcome to this most handsome
quarto."
SCOTSMAN.--"One way and another the book is wholly delightful."
GLASGOW EVENING NEWS.--"Mr. Boyd's contributions to a volume which ought
to be popular with Scots in every part of the world, are full of pawky
humour, and their realism is so pronounced that we seem to have known
the models in the life."
DUNDEE ADVERTISER.--"This is a volume to be treasured alike for the sake
of the poet, of the artist, and of that form of Scottish life which is
rapidly disappearing before the march of progress."
ARBROATH HERALD.--"Mr. Boyd has represented these pictures in line
sketches, which are characterised at once by the strength and confidence
of a masterful draughtsman and the insight of a keen observer of
character, who has long been familiar with the types presented in
Stevenson's poem."
GOOD WORDS.--"Mr. Boyd has portrayed, with here and there a happy trait
of grace or humour beyond the wording of the text, the very scene and
people. Each of the illustrations has a charm and freshness of its own."
ART JOURNAL.--"Mr. Boyd's knowledge of Lothian peasants and their
manners is as complete as Stevenson's. His drawings place in pictorial
view the poet's thoughts, while they greatly enhance the descriptions by
emphasising what the writer rightly left vague."
LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, III St. Martin's Lane
[Illustration]
End of Project Gutenberg's A Versailles Christmas-Tide, by Mary Stuart Boyd