My Home In The Field of Honor | Page 8

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

circumstances were too serious to refuse such a request and I nodded
my assent.
"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 glasses 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 glasses 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
butter 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 passed 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 passenger
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