Part 4 (1/2)

It was received in dead silence. Not a murmur, not a comment rose from the crowd, as the groups dispersed, and each one returned to his lodgings.

We followed suit, and I went with H. towards the servants' hall.

”Give me the keys to the wine cellar,” said he. ”And, Nini,” he continued, addressing my youngest maid, aged ten, ”Nini, lay a cloth and bring out the champagne gla.s.ses. The boys shan't go without a last joyful toast.”

There were four of them; four of them whose military books ordered them to reach the nearest railway station, with two days' rations, as soon as possible after the declaration of mobilization. H. had hardly time to bring up the champagne before we could bear the men clattering down the stairs from their rooms. Their luggage was quickly packed--a change of underclothes and a second pair of shoes composed their trousseaux--and Julie came hurrying forward with bread, sausages and chocolate! ”Put this into your bags,” she said. Though no one had told them, all those who remained seemed to have guessed what to do, for in like manner George, one of the younger gardeners, had hitched the horses to the farm cart and drove up to the kitchen entrance.

A moment later Catherine called me aside and tearfully begged permission to accompany husband and brother as far as Paris. The circ.u.mstances were too serious to refuse such a request and I nodded my a.s.sent.

”Come on, boys,” shouted H. ”Ring the farm-bell, Nini, and call the others in.”

Their faces radiant with excitement, they gathered around the long table. H. filled up the gla.s.ses and then raising his--

”Here's to France, and to your safe return!” said he.

”To France, and our safe return!” they echoed.

We all touched gla.s.ses and the frothy amber liquid disappeared as by magic. Then followed a hearty handshaking and they all piled into the little cart. George cracked the whip and in a moment they had turned the comer and were gone.

Gone--gone forever--for in the long months that followed how often did I recall that joyful toast, and now, a year later, as I write these lines, I know for certain that none of them will ever make that ”safe return.”

Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully under the strain. She was the first to admit that after all it would have been too trying to say good-bye to her husband. H. and I then decided that it was best for her to bring her children and maid and come over to the chateau where we would share our lot in common. There was no time for lamenting--for the sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the three most important farm-hands, left a very large breach which had to be filled at once.

There was nothing to do but to ”double up,” and the girls and women willingly offered to do their best.

Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to take over the kitchen. To George and Leon fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs, pigs and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen, offered to milk the cows, make b.u.t.ter and cheese, look after the chickens and my duck farm, while Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen and ten, were left to take care of the chateau! Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large an establishment as ours, but all so willing and so full of good humour that things were less neglected than one might imagine.

The excitement of the day had been such that after a very hasty meal we retired exhausted at an early hour. The night was still--so still that though four miles from the station we could hear the roar of the trains as they pa.s.sed along the river front.

”Hark!” said H. ”How close together they are running!”

We timed them. Scarcely a minute between each. Then, our ears becoming accustomed, we were soon able to distinguish the pa.s.senger from the freight trains, as well as the empty ones returning to Paris.

”Listen! Those last two were for the troops! That one is for the ammunition. Oh, what a heavy one! It must be for the artillery!” And we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed for three long weeks there was no end to it, as night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its human freight towards the Eastern frontier.

Sunday morning, August second, found us all at our posts as the sun rose. Elizabeth and I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock ma.s.s, and all along the road met men and boys on their way to the station. The church was full, but there were only women and elderly men in the a.s.sembly; why, we knew but too well, and many wives and mothers had come there to hide their grief. Our curate was a very old man, and the news had given him such a shock that he was unable to say a word after reaching the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with the tears streaming down his face for nearly five minutes--finally retiring without uttering a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing that could have happened, for his att.i.tude encouraged others to give way to their emotions, and there was a most impressive silence followed by much sniffling and nose-blowing! All seemed better, though, after the shower, and the congregation disbanded with a certain sense of relief.

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a stock of everything she dispensed.

”You see,” said he, ”we're now cut off from all resources. There are no big cities where we can get supplies, within driving reach, and our grocers will have nothing to sell once their stock is exhausted. We're living in the hope that the mobilization will last three weeks. That will you do if it lasts longer? It never hurts to have a supply on hand!”

”All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been put aside for the army. I was ordered to do that this morning--but come around to the back door and I'll see what I can do for you,” said my amiable grocery-woman.

”That's pleasant,” thought I. ”No gasoline--no motor--no electricity!

Privation is beginning early. But why grumble! We'll go to bed with the chickens and won't miss it!”

Madame Leger and I made out a long list of groceries and household necessities, and she set to work weighing and packing, and finally began piling the bundles into the trap drawn up close to her side door.

Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised by the load he had to carry home, but Elizabeth and I decided that a ”bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and one never could tell what astonis.h.i.+ng ”order”

to-morrow might bring forth.