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Updated: June 8, 2025
And why did they do that, if not in remorse for betraying to her secrets which afterwards somehow found their way to the enemy?... But nothing was ever done about it, she was never in the least molested, and nightly you might see her at Maxim's or L'Abbaye, making love to officers, while at the Front men were being slaughtered by the hundreds, thanks to her treachery.... Ah, monsieur, I tell you I know that woman too well!"
She sings no longer at L'Abbaye. We are desolate; we are inconsolable. We pleaded, but she was firm. She has gone. Where? Ah, Monsieur, so many ask that; but alas! we do not know." "But you do know where she lives," I urged. "You must know her home address. Give me that. It is of the greatest importance that I see her at once."
Swiftly the troubled deeps of thought grew calm; on their placid surface inconsequent visions were mirrored darkly, fugitive scenes from the store of subconscious memory: Crane's lantern-jawed physiognomy, keen eyes semi-veiled by humorously drooping lids, the extreme corner of his mouth bulging round his everlasting cigar ... grimy lions in Trafalgar Square of a rainy afternoon ... the octagonal room of L'Abbaye Theleme at three in the morning, a swirl of Bacchanalian shapes ... Wertheimer's soldierly figure beside the telegraphers' table in that noisome cave at the Front ... the deck of a tender in darkness swept by a shaft of yellow light which momentarily revealed a group of folk with upturned faces, a petticoat fluttering in its midst....
In the afternoon of October 1, 1916, the British troops assaulted the double-trench system of the main German third line over a front of about 3,000 yards from beyond Le Sars to a point 1,000 yards or so east of Eaucourt l'Abbaye.
He had told me that arriving at L'Abbaye before ten-thirty was quite useless. Midnight was the accepted hour, he said; prior to that I would find it rather dull, triste. But after that Ah, Monsieur would, at least, be entertained. "But of course Monsieur does not expect to find the young lady of whom he is in search there," he said. "A relative is she not?"
Tell me answer me truthfully, please: Does it depend upon me?" Of course that was just what it did depend upon. And suddenly I determined to tell her so. "Frances," I demanded, "are you still there at that place?" "At L'Abbaye. Yes." "You sing there every night?" "Yes." "Why do you do it? You know " "I know everything. But you know, too.
On October 2, 1916, German forces succeeded in pressing through a gap in the British line, and again occupied trenches before the village, while the British continued to hold their positions on the farther side, some of which were a thousand yards to the rear of the enemy. The following day the British heavily bombarded Eaucourt l'Abbaye and drew the cordon tighter around it.
That night he climbed the narrow stairs to l'Abbaye. It was exactly as it had been a square room bounded by long seats before tables. Some two dozen young ladies of various nationalities wandered about the center of the room, trying their best, but with manifest effort, to keep pace to the frenzied music of an orchestra paid to keep frenzied.
Emilie obeyed. An instant afterwards Mad. de Coulanges thought she heard a sudden cry, either of joy or grief, from Emilie she hurried into the drawing-room. "Bon Dieu! c'est notre homme de l'Abbaye!" cried she, starting back at the sight of a gentleman who had been kneeling at Emilie's feet, and who arose as she entered. "My son!" said Mrs.
So he ordered another bottle, and to the toast Yvonne proposed, raised his glass. But the wine did him no good, and the music did him no good, and Yvonne did him no good. The place had gone flat. Whatever he needed, it was nothing l'Abbaye had to offer.
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