Part 25

"But, Mademoiselle--"

She did not heed my interruption. "You cannot stay, Madame Huard! You must not! No woman is safe on their path. I know this better than you, for I have been receiving official reports for more than a month! The worst is true! For the love of heaven, go--you've still got a chance though there's hard fighting going on in the streets of Chateau Thierry! For God's sake, don't hesitate. Adieu."

She was gone! And I stood there dazed!

"Hard fighting at Chateau-Thierry! That's only seven miles from here," I counted.

Go? Go where? How? Go and abandon my post, with Yvonne still too ill to move, and all the others depending on my help? Go? By what means, when my only horse was too lame to cross the courtyard! It was far better to stay and defend one's belongings!

And then as I slowly returned through the corridors, it occurred to me that in spite of my desire to stay I might be forced out. Suppose the chateau should suddenly become the target for the German guns? Well, we could all take to the cellars, as the others had done in 1870. But--and here was the point--suppose the French took possession and gave us women but a few minutes to leave before the battle began. Then what! Here was food for reflection. I resolved to take Madame Guix and the two boys into my confidence. Four heads were better than one!

They received the news calmly, and I almost caught a glimpse of a twinkle in George's and Leon's eyes. The excitement pleased them.

If what Mademoiselle Mauxpoix had said was true, the Germans were now on their way to Villiers. It was evident that the French were putting up a stubborn resistance, but there was little hope of their stopping them before they reached our vicinity. Battle meant destruction of lives and property. Well, since we still possessed the former, it was high time to think of saving the latter. The sun was fast sinking behind the pine trees. In an hour it would be dark. What I decided to do must be done at once.

"George and Leon, bring down my two big trunks, and tell Nini to hitch the donkey to his flat cart and drive to the side door." I had resolved to save what I could of H.'s work, and going to the studio closet, I began selecting the portfolios containing mounted drawings and etchings. It was useless to think of the paintings. They were too big. The trunks were full in no time. I had no other receptacles, so reluctantly closed the but half empty cupboards, consoling myself with the thought that all this was possibly useless preparation, and praying Heaven that I had made a good choice among the portfolios in case the worst came.

The boys put the trunks onto the cart and set off in the direction of a sand quarry, where I knew we could dig in safety, and easily cause a miniature landslide, which would cover all traces of our hidden treasure. I promised to join them in an hour--the time I judged it would take them to make so large an excavation, and returning to my room, gathered my jewels and papers into a little valise, and put them beside my fur coat and my kodak. A few other trinkets and innumerable photographs were locked away in my desk, and perceiving that it would be utterly impossible to carry them with me, I wondered how on earth I might protect them. Suddenly I bethought me of a tiny silk American flag that my mother had given me years before, when as a child I left home for my first trip to Europe. I found it where I hoped, and shutting one edge of it into the drawer, I let the stripes hang downward and pinned the following inscription into its folds:

"I swear that the contents of this desk are purely personal and can be of value to no one but myself. I therefore leave it under the protection of my country's flag."

I felt very proud when I had done this and then hurried into my dressing-room where I hastily filled my suit-case with a few warm underclothes, a change of costume, and an extra pair of shoes. I had about finished and was heartily glad that this useless job was over, when on glancing out of the window I caught sight of fuzzy-haired Madame La Miche driving up the avenue in her dog cart.

Madame La Miche and her husband run a big stock farm near Neuilly St. Front, some fifteen miles from Villiers. I had often seen her at poultry and agricultural shows, where their farm products usually carried off any number of prizes. It was she who sold me my cows hardly a year since.

"You?" I said, as she drew up to the steps.

"Yes. En route--like all the others. Our entire fortune is in live stock and I'm going to try to save as much as I can. May we come in?"

Certainly--and a half-hour later one of the largest farms in France had been moved bodily into my pasture land! The whole thing was conducted in a very orderly manner by M. La Miche, who on horseback drew up the rear of this immense cavalcade composed of some two hundred white oxen, hitched two abreast, seventy or eighty horses, as many mares with young colts, and heaven knows how many cows and calves; all accompanied by the stable bands. Poor tired beasts, how greedily they drank the cool water of our spring, and how willingly the cunning little colts, whose tender hoofs had been worn to the quick by their unheard-of journey, allowed the men to tie up their feet in coarse linen bandages with strips of old carpet for protection.

Madame La Miche had been officially evacuated at noon, so I did not hesitate to tell her what I had heard. She was not surprised, and said she intended leaving at midnight, but her animals, unaccustomed to such exercise, must have a few hours' rest.

In the kitchen I found George and Leon, who had accomplished their task sooner than I expected. Relying on their word that it was impossible to tell where they had buried the trunks, I did not go back to the sand quarry. Half a mile was a distance to be considered, under the circumstances.

While all this had been going on, Madame Guix had taken Julie into her confidence and asked her if she would follow us if we were obliged to leave. Julie is a native of Villiers, and her husband and children live in a little house near by. She had consulted her lord and they were willing to lend their big dray horse if they could all join our party. Of course we agreed and while it was light, we decided to put some bags of oats into the bottom of our hay cart, to cover these with hay, and then all the servants could pile on, the boys taking turns at walking since Yvonne must have room to be stretched out.

How I hated all this business! Madame Guix then counted the number of persons composing our party, and sent Nini to fetch as many blankets and pillows. These, with a box containing salt, sugar, chocolate, and other dry provisions, a valise packed with a few bandages and a little medicine, were put onto a little light farm-cart to which we might harness Cesar in case of great emergency.

The two vehicles when loaded were run into an empty carriage house, whose door I locked, rather ashamed of my precautions.

Night had fallen and the incoming stream of refugees demanded our every attention. Madame Guix was occupied with two women whose physical condition was such that it was impossible to refuse them beds, come what might--and as I crossed the vestibule in search of some instruments, the shadow of a woman and two little girls came up the steps. "Could I give them lodgings?" begged the poor soul. I looked at her--she was so frightened that it was most pathetic, and the two curly-beaded children clung to her skirts and shivered.

"I've never been alone before," she explained, and her teeth fairly chattered with terror. "I can pay, and pay well--I've thirty thousand francs in gold on me."

"Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let anyone know it!" I said, very abruptly. "I don't want money, but there are others who may. Be careful--a fortune like that may lead to your destruction. Hide it!"

She stared at me in amazement. Evidently the idea that dishonesty existed never occurred to her. She thanked me for the advice and hoped she had not offended me, and begged me to take pity on her.

"Did anyone see you come in here?"

She thought not.

"For if they did I fear you will have to share the common lot. I have no reason to give you preference. The others might protest."