My Home In The Field of Honor | Page 2

fit then to join
my regiment."
Our faces fell.
"But why Saturday?"
"Because Saturday's the first of August, and the idea of keeping the
news back is to prevent a panic on the Bourse, and to let the July
payments have time to be realized."
"You don't really believe it's serious, do you?"
"Yes, really. I'm not fooling, and if I've any advice to give you it's this:
draw out all the money you can from your bank, and take all the gold
they'll give you. You may need it. I've telephoned to the Gil Blas for
them to do as much for us. The worst of all though is, that every man
on my paper is of an age bound to military service. War means that
when I leave, staff, printers and all will have to go the same day and the
Gil Blas shuts its doors. We cease to exist--that's all."
Somewhat disconcerted by this astonishing news, we had some little

difficulty getting down to facts, but when we did business was speedily
dispatched and Mr. Mortier took his leave. Mr. Gautron carried me off
to luncheon.
"You must come," he protested when I pleaded an engagement. "You
must come, or my wife and the boys will never believe me."
We found Madame Gautron and her two splendid sons waiting rather
impatiently. We told our news.
"Come, come now. You can't make us take that as an excuse!"
We protested our sincerity, and went in to luncheon which began rather
silently.
I questioned the boys as to their military duties. Both were
under-officers in an infantry regiment--bound to join their barracks
within twenty-four hours after the call to arms.
We did not linger over our coffee. Each one seemed anxious to go
about his affairs. I left the Gautron boys at the comer of their street,
each carrying his army shoes under his arm.
"To be greased--in case of accident," they laughingly explained.
That was the last time I ever saw them. They fell "on the Field of
Honour" both the same day, and hardly a month later.
But to return to my affairs.
A trifle upset by what Mr. Mortier had told me, I hurried to the nearest
telephone station and asked for Villiers. When after what seemed an
interminable time I got the connection, I explained to H. what had
happened.
"For Heaven's sake leave politics alone and take the five o'clock train
home! We need you to make a second fourth at bridge." H.'s
lightheartedness somewhat reassured me, though for prudence's sake I
went to my bank and asked to withdraw my entire account.
"Why, Madame Huard," said the clerk in surprise, "you mean to say
you are frightened?"
I explained what I had heard in the morning.
"_Pensez-vous? Non!_ We would be the first to be notified. We were
ever so much closer to war two years ago--at Agadir! There is no cause
for alarm."
He almost persuaded me, but after hesitating a moment I decided to
abide by my original intentions.
"I can always put my money back in a week or so if all blows over and

I find I don't need it," I argued.
"Certainly, Madame--as you will."
And the twenty-eighth of July the Societe Generale gave me all the
gold I requested.
As the five o'clock express hurried me back home I began to
understand the gravity of the situation--for the "queer looking soldiers"
were nearer together all along the railway line, and it dawned on me
that theirs was a very serious mission--namely, that of safeguarding the
steel artery which leads from Paris to the eastern frontier.
At Charly, our station, I was much surprised to see three French
officers in full uniform get off the train and step into the taxi-autobus
which deposits its travelers at the only hotel in the vicinity.
At the chateau my story failed to make an impression. The men
pooh-poohed the idea of war, and returned to the evening papers and
the proces Caillaux, which was the most exciting question of the
moment. In the pantry the news was greeted with hilarity, and
coachman and gardener declared that they would shoulder their spades
and faire la guerre en sabots.
My friend and neighbor, Elizabeth Gauthier, was the only one who
took the matter seriously, and that because she had no less than five
brothers and a husband who would be obliged to serve in case of
serious events. I felt rather ashamed when I saw her countenance
darken, for after all, she was alone in Villiers with two tiny children;
her husband, the well-known archivist, coming down but for the
week-end. "What is the sense of alarming people so uselessly?" I
thought.
Wednesday, the 29th, the papers began to talk of "a tension in the