Part 8 (1/2)
The colonel was absent, but would return _tout de suite,_ and Madame Macberez and I lost nearly an hour waiting. When he appeared, however, he was most gracious, excused himself very politely and immediately stamped my card. Then having all the necessary papers, I begged Madame to drop me at the hotel, and to return to her bureau, where I knew there was work enough for a half-dozen such as she. She did as I requested, and we parted--she promising to visit Villiers as soon as she could dispose of an afternoon.
I was the only woman in the hotel dining room for luncheon. The food was good, but the service impossible, as there were some forty men, mostly officers, very hungry, and only one decrepit waiter to do the work. Good humor prevailed, each diner making allowances, and here for the first time I heard that expression, destined to become so popular as an excuse for almost anything: _Cest la guerre!_
My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my friend the alderman was on time.
Finally the motor made its appearance. Something had happened on leaving St. Paul in the morning and the poor _hotelier_ had searched the entire city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All were _au service de l'armee_. Finally he had had to patch up things as best he could. As to an extra inner tube--such a thing didn't exist. We would have to take our chances with the wheel he had.
We started, but hadn't gone two hundred yards when a back tire blew off!
Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town. So I returned to the hotel, and while Huberson and the alderman were fixing up damages and adjusting the emergency wheel, I had time to read all the back numbers of _Ill.u.s.tration,_ which the _Soled d'Or_ possessed, and commence a conversation with the proprietress, who sat in the court sh.e.l.ling peas for dinner. She was certain that the war would be over in three months at the utmost!
At length I went out to see if I couldn't be of some a.s.sistance in the motor business, but Huberson said it would be ready in a few moments. As far as I could make out, my alderman friend was mostly a decorative personality, for he stood there with his hat on the back of his head, gesticulating vehemently, but never deigning to help my chauffeur in the slightest manner. When I asked him if he knew Soissons well and inquired if he could direct me to certain grocers where I could perhaps obtain a few provisions, he insisted on showing me the shops, with an alacrity which proved his incompetence at motor repairing.
During that short promenade on foot, we encountered the whole Ninth Territorial Regiment--not under arms but _au repos_. The men were seated in front of the barracks reading the papers or idly smoking their pipes, and all yearning for ”something to do.” Their wish, I fear, has been more than satisfied.
Start number two proved successful and we sped along very comfortably until we hit that long cobbled road. The day was exceedingly warm, the stones sun-baked, and after the first mile or so I saw Huberson looking nervously at his fore wheel. His anxiety was well founded, for half a minute later, whizz!--I could feel the rubber splitting!
We stopped and all climbed out.
”It's all up!” he exclaimed. ”Not one--but two tires are burst, and the shoe of the emergency wheel is flapping like an old dirty rag!”
”Now, in my time--” began the alderman.
”Never mind about your time, old man. If you want to get back to Oulchy and that mowing machine before Christmas, you've got to pitch in and help,” cut in Huberson, whose nerves could no longer stand the strain.
Our friend took the hint and began stripping off his coat. We were eight miles from Soissons, on the upgrade of a cobbled road, full in the sun. It was three P. M. on a stifling August day!
The men must have spent an hour trying to make impossible repairs--they knew it was no use walking back to Soissons where aid had already been refused, and it was evident from the condition of the tubes that there was no hope of mending them.
What to do?
”I'll tell you,” said I (and I must admit that I spoke for the sake of saying something), ”I'll tell you! Suppose you take out the inner tubes and stuff the shoes with gra.s.s!”
The men looked at me as if I had suddenly gone out of my mind. Their contempt was so apparent that it wilted me.
”Yes--I'm serious.”
And then arose a series of protestations which common sense bade me heed, but which didn't advance our cause in the slightest. When we had lost a full half-hour more arguing the question, I once again proclaimed my original idea.
The driver glanced at me in despair and shrugged his shoulders. ”The least we can do is try.”
So saying, we fell to work tearing up gra.s.s and weeds. And that is how I came to ride over thirty miles on three gra.s.s-stuffed tires, which, thanks to the heat, towards the end of the journey began sending forth little jets of green liquid much to the astonishment of all those who saw us pa.s.s.
III
The next few days following my eventful trip to Soissons were spent superintending the installation of my hospital. For convenience's sake I decided to utilize the entire ground floor, first because there were fewer and more s.p.a.cious apartments, each one being large enough to hold ten or twelve beds, thus forming a ward; second, because it would be better to avoid carrying the wounded up a flight of stairs. The rooms above could be used in case of emergency. All this of course necessitated the moving of most of my furniture and _objets d'art_, as well as the emptying of H.'s much enc.u.mbered studio--I having determined to keep but a small apartment in the east wing for private use. It was really a tremendous undertaking, far worse than any ”spring cleaning” I had ever experienced, especially as I was but poorly seconded by my much-depleted domestic staff, already more than busy trying to keep the farm going.
From the boys--George and Leon--I learned that old father Poupard had not yet put in his appearance since his departure three days before with his nag, and that mother Poupard had abandoned her belligerent att.i.tude and had resorted to tears. She could be seen three times a day, on her return from the fields, standing by the bridge corner, wailing her distress to any pa.s.serby who had time enough to stop and listen. Poupard now possessed all the qualities of mankind and it was probably through his n.o.ble soft-heartedness that some ill had befallen him. What a misfortune, especially as the vines needed so much attention.
Sunday, the ninth, I was preparing to go to early service at Charly (our own curate had been called to join his regiment) when on crossing the bridge, a bicycle whisked by the victoria.