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"A government motor is coming at four o'clock to take me, my employees and my books to Tours." "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!
I shall go down by the five train and bring back Elizabeth and the children. I'd be easier in my mind if I knew they were in a big city! I If you have to leave, Madame Huard would be better off here." H. was very sober as we left Mr. Gauthier. "Bah! Cheer up! I'm afraid our friend is an alarmist. You know he has two young children!"
"It was in the Rue de la Bueire, M'sieur," the little maid asserted with quiet conviction, poising the trophy of confectionery for Madame Huard with an unshaking hand. So stoutly do the roots of French life hold beneath the tramplings of war. 1 Soissons and Arras when I visited them were samples of the deadlock war; they were like Bloch come true.
We stood spellbound and tongue-tied. What to do? There were so many decisions to be made at a moment's notice! H. was for our coming to Paris, as all the men must necessarily leave the chateau. "Mobilization doesn't necessarily mean war, man. Besides if it does come it can't last long. You'd better go back to your place in the country, Huard.
On a half-dozen chairs sat as many men, some holding their heads in their hands, some doubled in two, others clenching their fists in agony. Not a murmur escaped them. The floor in several places was stained with great red patches. "Quick, Madame Huard. We must stop the hemorrhages at all costs. The wounds are not bad, since the men have come on foot, but one never can tell with this heat."
No women went out-doors without a basket, while every man wore a jacket, without which they were taken for aristocrats." Letters of Freron to Moise Bayle, Brumaire 23, Pluviose 5 and 11, Novose 16, II, published by Moise Bayle, also details furnished by Huard, pp. 350-365. Archives Nationales, AF. II., 144.
At the same moment, my dogs made one wild rush towards the gate and a woman's voice called, "Madame Huard, ouvrez, s'il vous plait!" By the light of another flash, I could distinguish a dripping figure in white. "Bah! someone is ill or dying and wants me to telephone for a doctor!" So I pulled the bell communicating with the servants' quarters, threw on a few warmer clothes, and went below.
"Madame Huard!" cried a familiar voice behind me. "Mon Dieu you!" I turned and recognized my pastry baker's wife. "Oui, moi; arretee." "Arrested!" "Yes, unless you will be good enough to inform these gentlemen who I am?" "Est-il possible! Est-il possible! Why, of course, I know you how dare they!" "You see," I said, turning to the auxilaires.
Madame Huard, in her book, My Home on the Field of Honor, is franker than most of the current historians have dared to be, and the conditions which she too found when she returned after the German retreat may be regarded as the prototype of the disgraceful and disgusting state in which these lovely country homes of the French were left; not by lawless German soldiers but by officers of the first rank.
The worst that can happen to them is to be made prisoners more than likely they will be carried away by one of our emergency ambulances. But think of all the young people who look to you for protection! You cannot desert them; you must go!" I looked at Madame Guix. "Go, Madame Huard, you must. You owe it to the others.
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