Chateau and Country Life in France | Page 5

themselves an extraordinary picture. "Monsieur sait que
Bismarck tue tous les enfants pour qu'il n'y ait plus de Français."
(Monsieur knows that Bismarck kills all the children so that there shall
be no more French.) The boys kept W. in a fever. They had got some
old guns, and were always hovering about on the edge of the wood,
trying to have a shot at a German. He was very uncomfortable himself
at one time during the armistice, for he was sending off parties of
recruits to join one of the big corps d'armée in the neighbourhood, and
they all passed at the château to get their money and feuille de route,
which was signed by him. He sent them off in small bands of four or
five, always through the woods, with a line to various keepers and
farmers along the route, who could be trusted, and would help them to
get on and find their way. Of course, if anyone of them had been taken
with W.'s signature and recommendation on him, the Germans would
have made short work of W., which he was quite aware of; so every
night for weeks his big black Irish horse Paddy was saddled and tied to
a certain tree in one of the narrow alleys of the big park--the branches
so thick and low that it was difficult to pass in broad daylight, and at
night impossible, except for him who knew every inch of the ground.
With five minutes' start, if the alarm had been given, he could have got
away into his own woods, where he knew no one would follow him.
Hubert, the old coachman, used often to talk to me about all that
troubled time. When the weather was dark and stormy he used to stay
himself half the night, starting at every sound, and there are so many
sounds in the woods at night, all sorts of wild birds and little animals
that one never hears in the daytime--sometimes a rabbit would dart out

of a hole and whisk round a corner; sometimes a big buse (sort of eagle)
would fly out of a tree with great flapping of wings; occasionally a
wild-cat with bright-green eyes would come stealthily along and then
make a flying leap over the bushes. His nerves were so unstrung that
every noise seemed a danger, and he had visions of Germans lying in
ambush in the woods, waiting to pounce upon W. if he should appear.
He said Paddy was so wise, seemed to know that he must be perfectly
quiet, never kicked nor snorted.
It was impossible to realise those dreadful days when we were riding
and walking in the woods, so enchanting in the early summer, with
thousands of lilies of the valley and periwinkles growing wild, and a
beautiful blue flower, a sort of orchid. We used to turn all the village
children into the woods, and they picked enormous bunches of lilies,
which stood all over the château in china bowls. I loved the wood life
at all seasons. I often made the round with W. and his keepers in the
autumn when he was preparing a battue. The men were very keen about
the game, knew the tracks of all the animals, showing me the long
narrow rabbit tracks, running a long distance toward the quarries,
which were full of rabbit holes, and the little delicate hoof-marks of the
chevreuil (roe-deer) just where he had jumped across the road. The
wild boar was easy to trace--little twigs broken, and ferns and leaves
quite crushed, where he had passed. The wild boars and stags never
stayed very long in our woods--went through merely to the forest of
Villers-Cotterets--so it was most important to know the exact moment
of their passage, and there was great pride and excitement when one
was taken.
Another interesting moment was when the coupe de l'année was being
made. Parts of the woods were cut down regularly every year, certain
squares marked off. The first day's work was the marking of the big
trees along the alleys which were to remain--a broad red ring around
the trunks being very conspicuous. Then came the thinning of the trees,
cutting off the top branches, and that was really a curious sight. The
men climbed high into the tree, and then hung on to the trunk with iron
clamps on their feet, with points which stuck into the bark, and
apparently gave them a perfectly secure hold, but it looked dangerous

to see them swinging off from the trunk with a sort of axe in their
hands, cutting off the branches with a swift, sharp stroke. When they
finally attacked the big trees that were to come down it was a much
longer affair, and they made slow