LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

them. They fell "on the Field of

       Honour" both the same day, and hardly a month later.

      But to return to my affairs.

      A trifle upset by what Mr. Mortier had told me, I hurried to the nearest telephone station and asked for Villiers. When after what seemed an interminable time I got the connection, I explained to H. what had happened.

      "For Heaven's sake leave politics alone and take the five o'clock train home! We need you to make a second fourth at bridge." H.'s lightheartedness somewhat reassured me, though for prudence's sake I went to my bank and asked to withdraw my entire account.

      "Why, Madame Huard," said the clerk in surprise, "you mean to say you are frightened?"

      I explained what I had heard in the morning.

      "Pensez-vous? Non! We would be the first to be notified. We were ever so much closer to war two years ago—at Agadir! There is no cause for alarm."

      He almost persuaded me, but after hesitating a moment I decided to abide by my original intentions.

      "I can always put my money back in a week or so if all blows over and I find I don't need it," I argued.

      "Certainly, Madame—as you will."

      And the twenty-eighth of July the Societe Generale gave me all the gold I requested.

      As the five o'clock express hurried me back home I began to understand the gravity of the situation—for the "queer looking soldiers" were nearer together all along the railway line, and it dawned on me that theirs was a very serious mission—namely, that of safeguarding the steel artery which leads from Paris to the eastern frontier.

      At Charly, our station, I was much surprised to see three French officers in full uniform get off the train and step into the taxi-autobus which deposits its travelers at the only hotel in the vicinity.

      At the chateau my story failed to make an impression. The men pooh-poohed the idea of war, and returned to the evening papers and the proces Caillaux, which was the most exciting question of the moment. In the pantry the news was greeted with hilarity, and coachman and gardener declared that they would shoulder their spades and faire la guerre en sabots.

      My friend and neighbor, Elizabeth Gauthier, was the only one who took the matter seriously, and that because she had no less than five brothers and a husband who would be obliged to serve in case of serious events. I felt rather ashamed when I saw her countenance darken, for after all, she was alone in Villiers with two tiny children; her husband, the well-known archivist, coming down but for the week-end. "What is the sense of alarming people so uselessly?" I thought.

      Wednesday, the 29th, the papers began to talk of "a tension in the political relations between France and Germany" which, however, did not quench the gaiety of a picnic luncheon in the grove by our river.

      In the afternoon the old garde-champetre asked for H. in the courtyard.

      "In case of mobilization," said he, "you have three horses and your farm cart to present to the authorities. Your cart must have its awnings complete. And your horses harnessed with their halters!"

      H. laughed and told him that he was giving himself a lot of useless trouble.

      Thursday, the 30th, market day at Charly, the nearest town to Villiers. We both drove down in the victoria, and were not surprised to see my officers of the day before seated in the hotel dining-room, finishing breakfast.

      "What are they down here for?" I queried of the proprietor.

      "Oh, they belong to the Etat Major and are out here to verify their maps. The Mayor has given them an office in the town hall. They go off on their bicycles early every morning and only return for meals."

      "It's rather a treat to see a uniform out here, where hardly an officer has appeared since last year when we had Prince George of Servia and his staff for three days."

      The general topic on the market place was certainly not war, and we drove home somewhat reassured.

      Friday, the 31st, however, the tone of the newspapers was serious and our little village began to grow alarmed when several soldiers on holiday leave received individual official telegrams to rejoin their regiments immediately. Little knots of peasants could be seen grouped together along the village street, a thing unheard of in that busy season when vineyards need so much attention. Towards noon the news ran like wildfire that men belonging to the youngest classes had received their official notices and we're leaving to join their corps. Yet there was no commotion anywhere.

      "It will last three weeks and they'll all come home, safe and sound. It's bothersome, though, that the Government should choose just our busiest season to take the men out for a holiday!" declared one peasant.

      There was less hilarity in the servants' hall when I entered after luncheon. At least I fancied so. The men had gone about their work quicker than usual, and the women were silently washing up.

      "Does Madame know that the fils Poupard is leaving by the four o'clock train—and that Cranger and Veron are going too?" asked my faithful Catherine.

      "No."

      "Yes, Madame—and Honorine is in the wash-house crying as though her heart would break."

      I turned on my heel and walked toward the river. In the wash-house I found Honorine bending over her linen, the great tears streaming down her face, in spite of her every effort to control them.

      "Why, Honorine, what's the matter?"

      "He's gone, Madame—gone without my seeing him—without even a clean pair of socks!"

      "Who?"

      "My son, Madame!"

      And the tears burst out afresh, though in silence.

      "Yes, Madame, I found this under the door when I came in at noon.—" She drew a crumpled paper from her apron pocket. I smoothed it out and read:

      "Je viens de recevior ma feuille. Je pars de suite. Je prends les deux francs sur la cheminee. Jean." (I've just received my notice. Am leaving at once. Have taken the two francs that are on the mantel. Jean.)

      I cannot say what an impression that brief but heroic note made upon me. In my mind it has always stood as characteristic of that wonderful national resolution to do one's duty, and to make the least possible fuss about it.

      At tea-time the male contingent of the house-party was decidedly restless.

      "Let's go up to Paris and see what's going on."

      "There's no use doing that. Elizabeth Gauthier went this morning and will be back in an hour with all the news. It's too late to go to town, anyway!"

      "Well, if things don't look better to-morrow I've got to go. My military book is somewhere in my desk at home and it's best to have it en regle in case of necessity," said Delorme.

      "Mine's at home, too," echoed our friend Boutiteron.

      "We'll all go to-morrow, and make a day of it," decided H.

      Just then the silhouette of the three officers on bicycles passed up the road.

      "Let's go out and ask them what's up," suggested someone.

      "Pooh! Do you think they know anything more than we do? And if they do know something, they wouldn't tell you! Don't make a fool of yourself, Hugues!"

      Presently Elizabeth Gauthier arrived, placid and cool as though everything were normal. "Paris is calm; calm as Paris always is in August."

      "But the papers? Your husband? What does he say?"

      "There are no extras—Leon doesn't seem over-alarmed, though as captain in the reserves he would have to leave within an hour after any declaration of hostilities. He has a special mission to perform. But he's certain of coming down by the five o'clock train to-morrow."

Скачать книгу