My Home in the Field of Honor Part 3

At the end of five minutes' time the conversation had become general.

Although as yet there had been no official declaration everyone present was convinced that the news would shortly be made public, and though the crowd was certainly not a merry one, it was certainly not sad. Most of the men had received their orders in the morning, and had said good-bye to their loved ones at home. In consequence, there were no heart-rending scenes of farewell, no tearful leave-takings from family and friends, no useless manifestations.

Through the doorway of our stifling compartment, which up until the last moment was left open for air, we could see the train on the opposite platform silently, rapidly filling with men, each carrying a new pair of shoes either slung over the shoulders or neatly tied in a box or paper parcel. Then without any warning, without any hilarious vociferations on the part of its occupants, it quietly drew out of the station, to be instantly replaced by another train of cars.

Five times we watched the same operation recommence ere the ten o'clock train decided to leave Paris. Then as the guard went along the platform slamming the doors, a boyish face poked its way into the aperture of our compartment.

"h.e.l.lo, Louis," said he, addressing one of the workmen. "h.e.l.lo, Louis, you here, too?"

"_Eh bien, cette fois je crois quon y va! Hein?_"

Our door closed and the trainman whistled.

"_Bon voyage!_" shouted the boy through the window.

"The same to you," replied the other. That was all.

It was not a very eventful journey. It was merely hot and lengthy. We stopped at every little way station either to let down or take on pa.s.sengers. We were side-tracked and forgotten for what seemed hours at a time, to allow speedy express trains filled with men and bound for the eastern frontier to pa.s.s on and be gone.

At Changis-St. Jean I put my head out of the window and there witnessed a most touching sight. A youngish man in a well-fitting captain's uniform, accompanied by his wife and two pretty babies, was preparing to take his leave. He was evidently well known and esteemed in his little village, for the curate, the mayor, the munic.i.p.al council and numerous friends had come to see him off. The couple bore up bravely until the whistle blew-then, clasping each other in an almost brutal embrace, they parted, he to jump into the moving train mid the shouts of well-wishers, and she, her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return to her empty home.

Four months later, almost to a day, I again put my head out of the car window as we stopped at Changis. Imagine my surprise on seeing almost the same group! I recognized the mayor, the curate and the others, and a little s.h.i.+ver went down my back as I caught sight of the pretty captain's wife--her eyes red and swollen beneath the long widow's veil that covered her face. That same hopeful little a.s.sembly of August first had once again gathered on the station platform to take possession of and to conduct to their last resting place the mortal remains of their heroic defunct.

Naturally, as they did not expect us before six at the chateau, there was no carriage to meet us.

"We'll take the hotel taxi as far as Charly, and from there we'll telephone home," said H. as we got down from the train.

But there was neither hotel trap nor vehicle of any description at the station. True it was that our train was nearly two hours late! The idea of walking some four miles in the broiling sun was anything but amusing, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. So after a quarter of an hour uselessly spent in trying to get a carriage about our lonesome station, we started off on foot. We had scarcely gone two hundred yards when we caught sight of a PARISIAN taxi! H. hailed him!

"What are you doing down _here?_"

"I brought down a gentleman who was in a hurry. You see there are no more trains out of Paris on this line since noon! And there are not likely to be any for some time to come."

"Will you take us as far as Charly?"

"If it's on the way to Paris--yes! I'm in a hurry to get back. I've got to join my regiment at the Gaxe du Nord before midnight, but I'd like to ring in another job like this before that. It's worth while at 150 per trip!"

"You've got to cross Charly--there's no other way to Paris."

So we made our price and were whisked into our little market-town.

The inhabitants were on their doorsteps or chatting in little groups, and we created quite a sensation in our Parisian vehicle. H. went to the Gendarmerie at once to see if there was any official news by wire since we had left town.

"You're the one who ought to bring us news, Monsieur," said the _brigadier_. "What do they say in Paris?"

"The mobilization will be posted at four o'clock."

A hearty peal of laughter, that was most refres.h.i.+ng in the tension of the moment, burst from all three gendarmes.

"Well, it's five minutes of four now. And if what you say is so, I should think we'd know something about it by this time! Don't worry.

It's not so bad as you fancy--"

H. shook hands and we left. At the hotel we got the chateau on the wire and asked for the victoria at once. As the horse had to be harnessed and there is a two-mile drive down to Charley, we stopped a moment and spoke to the proprietress of the hotel.

"How does it happen that your motor was not at the station?" said H.

"Oh," she replied, "our officers hired it early this morning and my husband bad to drive them post-haste to Soissons. He hasn't got back yet!"

Before going farther in my narrative I shall say here, lest I forget it, that two of the supposed officers were caught within the fortnight and shot at Meaux as German spies--the third managed to make his escape.

Hearing the carriage coming down the hill, we walked towards the doorway. At that same moment we saw the white-trousered _gendarme_ hastening towards the town hall. Catching might of H., he held up the sealed envelope he held in his band, and shouted, "You were right, Monsieur. It has come!"

We jumped into the victoria, but as we crossed the square the _garde-champetre_ caught the bridle and stopped our turnout.

"One moment, Monsieur."

Then the town-crier appeared, instantly causing the staggering groups to cl.u.s.ter into one. He had no need to ring his bell. He merely lifted his hand and obtained instant silence, and then slowly read out in deep, solemn, measured tones, which I shall never forget until my dying day.

"_Extrme urgence. Ordre de mobilisation generale. Le premier jour de la mobilization est le dimanche deux aout!_"

That was all! It was enough! The tension of those last two days was broken. No matter what the news, it was a relief. And we drove away 'mid the rising hum of hundreds of tongues, loosened after the agonizing suspense.

The news had not yet reached Villiers when we drove through the village street. We turned into the chateau and found Elizabeth Gauthier, her children and almost all the servants, grouped near the entrance ball.

They looked towards us with an appealing gaze.

As H. opened his mouth to answer, the sharp pealing of the _tocsin_, such as it rings only in cases of great emergency, followed by the rolling of the drum, told them better than we could that the worst bad come.

The servants retired in silence and still the bell rang on. Presently we could hear the clicking of the sabots on the bard road as the peasants hurried from the fields towards the _Mairie_.

I can see us all now, standing there in the brilliant afternoon sunlight--Elizabeth murmuring between her sobs, "O G.o.d, don't take my husband!" little Jules clinging to her skirts, amazed at her distress, and happy, lighthearted, curly-headed baby Colette, chasing b.u.t.terflies on the lawn in front of us!

II

_August first._

The _tocsin_ ceased, but the drum rolled on.

In a moment we had recovered from the first shock, and all went out to the highroad to hear the declaration. To H. and me it was already a thing of the past, but we wanted to see how the peasants would take it.

At Villiers as at Charly, it was the _garde champetre_ who was charged with this solemn mission, and the old man made a most pathetic figure as he stood there with his drumsticks in his hand, his spectacles pushed back, and the perspiration rolling down his tanned and withered cheeks.

"What have you got to say?" queried one woman, who was too impatient to wait until all had a.s.sembled.

"_Bien de bon--_" was the philosophic reply, and our friend proceeded to clear his throat and make his announcement.