My Home in the Field of Honor Part 10

I hurried Madame Guix off to her apartment, told the boys to wake Julie and have her send us a cup of tea and some refreshments in my little drawing-room. Though it was the middle of August, the rain and dampness were so penetrating that I did not hesitate to touch a match to a brushwood fire that is always prepared in my grate. In a short time my guest reappeared and as she refreshed herself, I busily plied her with questions concerning the events of the last two weeks.

Madame Guix, a woman but little over thirty, came from Choisy-le-Roi (the city of famous Rouget de l'Isle). _Merciere_ by trade, on the death of husband and baby she had adopted the career of _infirmiere_, and at the outbreak of the war found herself in possession of her diploma and ready to serve. She had enlisted at the big military hospital her native town had installed in the school house, and for three long weeks had sat and waited for something to do.

"Are there no wounded there?"

"Not when I left."

"Have you ever yet had occasion to nurse a soldier?"

"Yes, of course. Four days after the declaration when the Forty-ninth Territorials came through Choisy on their forced march to the front, we were suddenly filled up with cases of congestion. You see, that regiment is Composed of men mostly over forty, and what with the heat, their guns and their sacs, and unaccustomed to such a life, many of them couldn't stand the strain. My first patient was a sad little man named Bouteron.

"Bouteron? What Bouteron?"

"Marcel Bouteron."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Is he dead?"

"No."

I breathed again. Thank G.o.d! Bouteron, Bouteron, our Jolly little Bouteron, gaiety itself, who three weeks ago was the very life and soul of our last house party! Was it possible? Already "down and out!" And to think that this strange woman should bring me the news. I drew my chair nearer to Madame Guix and for two long hours we talked, as only women can.

From Choisy she had sought to exercise her _metier_ to better advantage by approaching the front, so had addressed herself to Madame Macherez in Soissons. From there she had been sent to me. Did she think there was any possibility of nursing wounded in our hospital? We were so far south.

She was confident that we would not be empty long. b.l.o.o.d.y battles were being waged from Alsace throughout the entire north. Belgian territory had been violated and Liege was putting up a heroic defense.

But our doctor and the pharmaceutical products? From where and when would they arrive? Food and bedding would go a long way, but were hardly sufficient to start a hospital!

We were to count on Madame Macherez for both. She had promised to do her utmost to reach us with our supplies, but the rules of circulation on the roads were so severe that even Red Cross supply cars had to stand in line and await permits. In the meantime we must organize as best we could.

The following morning a few moments' intercourse proved to me that Madame Guix's competence extended far beyond the bounds of her _metier_.

She was a splendid worker, and no task was too difficult, so long as it furthered our purpose--namely, that of being ready in case of emergency.

By noon we had decided that it would be useless to count upon my servants to help in the hospital. They already had all they could do.

So I went and asked our mayor if he knew of any women who, _de bonne volonte_, would come and a.s.sist us. Madame Guix volunteered to teach them the rudiments of bandaging between two and five on the coming afternoons, and we would establish a _roulement_ so that the little time that each disposed of might be properly and efficiently utilized.

The drum beat and made the announcement, and at two the same afternoon we had the satisfaction of welcoming some twenty women. In the meantime every bit of old linen I possessed was brought down and put on the dining room table, then measured and torn in _formes rilglementaires_ ready to be sterilized and put aside. Half a dozen bands were left out as models and it was with these that Madame Guix commenced her demonstrations. She soon put her listeners at ease, and presently all were anxious to try a hand at bandaging. The naive clumsiness of these poor souls was extremely pathetic, but such was their patriotism that they never considered themselves ridiculous for a single instant, and stood there fumbling the long linen rolls with bands that were hands more accustomed to wielding a spade or directing a plough. Again and again they would recommence certain difficult proceedings, taking turns at playing the dummy, and offering as models calves and biceps of which many an athlete might have been proud.

Of the score of women but two or three really acquired any facility, but we considered that sufficient, for in time of need the others could easily be put to work at necessary matters which were of less vital importance.

From the windows of the dining-room where the _cours_ was held, we could look down the driveway and see all the children of the neighborhood standing on the wall of the moat, craning their necks in the hope of catching a glimpse of what was going on in the chateau. It was evidently an interesting diversion, for every afternoon they reappeared, in spite of George's threats to send for the _gendarmes_. The little demons seemed to know that the gendarmes were too busy to give them any attention, and I a.s.sure you, they profited by their liberty. Little John Poupard and his five-year-old brother were the leaders of the band, and I trembled lest some day their curiosity lead to a tragic end!

Nor were my fears in vain, for one afternoon we beard a shriek and a splash, followed by cries of terror, and we knew for certain that some one had fallen into the moat. The embankment is not eight feet high, and at that season of the year there is more mud than water in the river, so I was certain that whoever had fallen in was in no danger of drowning--but nevertheless I hastened with the others to the spot.

George, who had also heard the noise, reached the scene of action before we did, and on our arrival we found him knee deep in the mud, preparing to hoist a little limp body on to the bank.

Johnny Poupard!

"Good heavens!" thought I. "Decidedly that family had no intention of letting the village rust for want of dramatic situations!"

"He's merely fainted; more frightened than hurt," declared Madame Guix, who had literally pounced upon him. "Now then, ladies," she said, turning towards the women who stood gaping at us, "now then, here's a splendid opportunity to distinguish yourselves."

And so little John Poupard was carried into the infirmary. As first patient you may be sure that be received every attention. Some ammonia was held under his nose. This soon brought him around and after carefully sounding all his bones, Madame Guix decided that there were no fractures. And the bandaging began!

It makes me smile when I think of it all now--for the only wounds Johnny possessed were a few scratches on his bands, knees and head, caused by his sudden contact with a patch of stinging nettles which had sprung up on the river banks.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, the child would probably have picked himself up and walked home, forgetting his woes an hour later. But real live models who are actually in pain, are few and far between, especially at "courses" such as ours, and the amount of professional skill that was expended on that little urchin ought to have cured six of his kind. But it all made the women so happy!

At the end of half an hour, Johnny Poupard looked more like an Egyptian mummy than a human being, so much so that when his grandmother arrived upon the scene of action, she very nearly fainted and all but became patient number two at Auxiliary Hospital No. 7!

We had some little difficulty rea.s.suring her, but when her prodigal grandson sat up and asked for bread and jam, she forgot her anxiety and began scolding him for daring to give her such a fright, and us so much trouble.

Towards the end of the third week in August the mobilization was considered finished and the Eastern Railroad opened again to the public; its time tables of course being limited and subject to instant change, the company refusing to be responsible for delays. To us at the chateau this meant very little, save that we would receive our mail and the daily papers more frequently. However, several friends who fancied I was unsafe alone and so far from the capital, kindly ventured to start to Villiers to try to persuade me to come up to town. It took them seven hours to reach Meaux (thirty miles from Paris); they were obliged to sleep there because it was because it was announced that their train went no further--and worse than all, they were eighteen hours getting home.

"Wheren't people furious?" I questioned, when afterwards they told me of their adventure.

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it patiently as part of his tribute to his country. 'The army first' was their motto."

The first batch of mail brought me any number of stale letters, which had arrived and been held in Paris over three weeks. Invitations to a house party in Belgium and things of that kind that seemed so strangely out of place now. The two most important doc.u.ments, however, came, one from my cousin, Marie Huard (Superior at the Convent of the Infant Jesus at Madrid) and the other from Elizabeth Gauthier.

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate and communicate with every member of the Huard family called to arms (and they are numerous, when one considers that H. has no less than twelve married uncles!) and she enclosed me a sort of map, or family tree, indicating the names, ages, regiments, etc., of some fifty cousins, begging me to write and encourage them from time to time.

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black border--and I trembled as I opened it. She was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of her eldest brother, killed at the battle of Mulhouse, the ninth of August. Her solitude preyed upon her, and she announced her departure for her sister's chateau in Burgundy.

That was the first real sadness that the war had brought me so far. It quite upset me, for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful friend, but one of the most promising engineers of the younger generation in France.

Both family, friends and country might well deplore such a loss.

Even the making and hoisting of a huge Red Cross flag over the chateau failed to arouse my enthusiasm all that day. The blow was too cruel and had stimulated fears which heretofore had lain dormant within me.

The next day, however, I was not permitted to brood over my grief, for Yvonne (she of the poultry farm) fell ill with a severe attack of sciatica, which kept her in her bed, every movement producing a scream of agony.

Of course Madame Guix was there to lend a hand, but that hardly altered the situation, so I was obliged to ask the boys to give another "pull"

and try to be equal to the work. Lleon accepted with such alacrity that for the first time it dawned on me that perhaps he had a soft spot in his heart for my pretty little goose girl, and this unsuspected romance, interwoven with the joys and anxieties of the moment, seemed all the more charming.

To cap the climax of misfortune, old Cesar had run a nail into his hoof and Madame Guix spent most of her time between injections of oxygen on the first floor, and iodine and flaxseed poultices in the stables. This of course meant that all errands outside the village must be made on bicycle, and George was "mustered into service." Towards noon on the 27th he made his first return trip from Charly, bringing the mail and the papers, and a very excited countenance.

"Madame, I've seen one!" he shouted, as I appeared in the doorway.

"Seen what?"

"_Un casque a' point!_"

"A what!"