The Happy Foreigner | Page 4

handkerchief, and mopping at her face. She thought there must be some
desperate need calling for the lorries, and looked after them with
respect.
When she had found her street, and fetched her "client," she drove at
his order to Souilly, upon the great road to Verdun. And all day, calling
at little villages upon the way, where he had business, she drove with
the caution of the newcomer. It seemed to her that she had need for
caution. She saw a Ford roll over, leave the road, and drop into the
ditch. The wild American who had driven it to its death, pulled himself
up upon the road, and limping, hailed a passing lorry, and went upon
his way.
She saw a horse gallop out of a camp with a terrified Annamite upon its
back. Horse and Annamite shot past her on the road, the yellow man's
eyes popping from his head, his body slipping, falling, falling. When
she would have slowed the car to watch the end of the flight her client
cried to her: "Why do you wait?"
Enormous American guns, trailed behind lorries driven by pink-faced
boys swayed from side to side on the greasy road, and threatened to
crush her like an egg-shell.
Everywhere she saw a wild disregard for life, everywhere she winced
before the menace of speed, of weight, of thundering metal.
In the late afternoon, returning home in the half-light, she overtook a
convoy of lorries driven by Annamites.
Hooting with her horn she crept past three lorries and drew abreast of
the fourth; then, misjudging, she let the tip of her low mudguard touch
the front wheel of the foremost lorry. The touch was so slight that she

had passed on, but at a cry she drew up and looked back. The lorry
which she had touched was overhanging the edge of the road, and its
radiator, striking a tree, had dropped down into the valley below.
Climbing from her car she ran back and was instantly surrounded by a
crowd of Annamites who chirped and twittered at her, and wrung their
little hands.
"What can I do?..." she said to them aloud, in distress.
But they understood nothing, and seemed to echo in their strange bird
language, "What can we do ... what can we do?..." ("And I..." she
thought in consternation, "am responsible for this!")
But the last lorry had drawn alongside, and a French sergeant
descended from it and joined the Annamites. He walked to the edge of
the road, saw the radiator below upon a rock, and shrugged his
shoulders. Catching sight of Fanny's face of horror he laughed.
"Ne vous en faîtes pas, mademoiselle! These poor devils sleep as they
drive. Yes, even with their eyes open. We started nine this morning.
We were four when we met you--and now we are three!"
On the third morning the rain stopped for an hour or two. Fanny had no
run till the afternoon, and going into the garage in the morning she set
to work on her car.
"Where can I get water?" she asked a man.
"The pump is broken," he replied. "I backed my car against it last night.
But there is a tap by that broken wall on the piece of waste ground."
She crossed to the wall with her bucket.
Standing upon the waste ground was an old, closed limousine whose
engine had long been injured past repair. One of the glass windows was
broken, but it was as roomy and comfortable as a first-class railway
carriage, and the men often sat in it in a spare moment.

The yard cleared suddenly for the eleven o'clock meal. As Fanny
passed the limousine a man appeared at the broken window and
beckoned to her. His face was white, and he wore his shirt, trousers,
and braces. She stopped short with the bucket in her hand.
"On est delivré de cette bande!" he said, pointing to the yard, and she
went a little nearer.
"Wait till I get my coat on," he said softly to her, and struggled into his
coat.
He put both his hands on the window ledge, leant towards her, and said
clearly: "Je suis le président Wilson."
"You are the President Wilson," she echoed, hunting for the joke, and
willing to smile. He passed her out his water-bottle and a tin box. "You
must fill these for me," he said. "Fill the bottle with wine, and get me
bread and meat. Be quick. You know I must be off. The King expects
me."
Where have you come from?"
"I slept here last night. I have come far. But I must be quick now, for
it's late, and ... I believe in Freedom!" he finished emphatically.
"Well, will you wait till I have made