Part 14

In the meantime, someone had carried my card to the mayor who affixed his seal, and my armlet appeared as though by magic.

Now, then, for the colonel! And we hastened away again at a moment's notice.

As we drove through the quaint little city, my eye was attracted more than once by a splendid bit of Louis XIV architecture. The college, the convent, the churches and even some private residences were wonderful examples of that exquisitely decorative period. As it was my first visit to Soissons I regretted not having brought my kodak, but when I spoke of this to Madame Macherez she expressed her delight at my admiration of her native city, but was extremely glad that I had not ventured out alone with a camera. Unknown persons with photographic paraphernalia were suspicious these times. It was best to leave such things at home.

Just then we were winding up a narrow street and the chauffeur was tooting in vain, trying to persuade a half-dozen soldiers carrying bales of bay on their backs, to make room for us to get by. With much evident reluctance the first man drew a bit to the right, the second vociferated something in a picturesque patois, and just as we passed the third, I leaned forward and grabbed the driver by the collar.

"Stop, stop a minute!" I gasped.

He must have thought I was mad, and Madame M. probably imagined I had suddenly lost my wits, when she saw me plunge out of the motor, race towards one of the bales, tear it from the carrier's back with a violence that nearly upset the man, and then, throwing my arms about his neck, embrace him.

"You? Already?" gasped H., and then as we realized that we were making a public spectacle of ourselves, the color rose to our cheeks.

A hasty explanation followed, in which I told my plans.

"And you, what on earth are you doing here?" I questioned.

"Well--just what you see. All of us from Villiers have been sent to bring horses to the front, and a fine job it is. I wish you could see the nags! None of them rideable!"

"But after they're delivered--what?"

"I wish I knew myself."

"And when can we meet?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. We're off again to-night for God knows where!"

And H. seeing that he was already far behind his companions, threw me a hasty adieu and was gone!

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 Illustration, which the Soled d'Or possessed, and commence a conversation with the proprietress, who sat in the court shelling 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 assistance 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.