Read Ebook: My Home in the Field of Honor by Huard Frances Wilson

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Ebook has 1353 lines and 56750 words, and 28 pages

There was less hilarity in the servants' hall when I entered after luncheon. At least I fancied so. The men had gone about their work quicker than usual, and the women were silently washing up.

"No."

"Yes, Madame--and Honorine is in the wash-house crying as though her heart would break."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the river. In the wash-house I found Honorine bending over her linen, the great tears streaming down her face, in spite of her every effort to control them.

"Why, Honorine, what's the matter?"

"He's gone, Madame--gone without my seeing him--without even a clean pair of socks!"

"Who?"

"My son, Madame!"

And the tears burst out afresh, though in silence.

"Yes, Madame, I found this under the door when I came in at noon.--" She drew a crumpled paper from her apron pocket. I smoothed it out and read:

I cannot say what an impression that brief but heroic note made upon me. In my mind it has always stood as characteristic of that wonderful national resolution to do one's duty, and to make the least possible fuss about it.

At tea-time the male contingent of the house-party was decidedly restless.

"Let's go up to Paris and see what's going on."

"There's no use doing that. Elizabeth Gauthier went this morning and will be back in an hour with all the news. It's too late to go to town, anyway!"

"Mine's at home, too," echoed our friend Boutiteron.

"We'll all go to-morrow, and make a day of it," decided H.

Just then the silhouette of the three officers on bicycles passed up the road.

"Let's go out and ask them what's up," suggested someone.

Presently Elizabeth Gauthier arrived, placid and cool as though everything were normal. "Paris is calm; calm as Paris always is in August."

"But the papers? Your husband? What does he say?"

"There are no extras--Leon doesn't seem over-alarmed, though as captain in the reserves he would have to leave within an hour after any declaration of hostilities. He has a special mission to perform. But he's certain of coming down by the five o'clock train to-morrow."

We went in to dinner but conversation lagged. Each one seemed preoccupied and no one minded the long silences. We were so quiet that the Angelus ringing at Charly, some four miles away, roused us with something of a shock.

Saturday morning, August 1st, the carryall rolled up to the station for the early train. All made a general rush for the papers which had just arrived and all of us were equally horrified when a glance showed the headline-Jaures, the Great Socialist Leader, Assassinated. Decidedly the plot thickened and naturally we all jumped to the same conclusion--a political crime.

"There's a stronger hand than the murderer's back of that felony," murmured a plain man from the corner of our compartment.

"What makes you say that?"

"Why, can't you see, Monsieur, that our enemies are counting on the deed to stir up the revolutionary party and breed discord in the country! It's as plain as day!"

That was rather opening the door to a lengthy discussion, but our friends refused to debate, especially as we could hear excited masculine voices rising high above the ordinary tone in the compartments on either side of us.

The journey drew to a close without any further remarkable incident. It seemed to me that we passed more up trains than usual, but were not a moment overdue. There was nothing to complain of. As we approached La Villette and drew into the Gare de l'Est everybody noticed the extraordinary number of locomotives that were getting up steam in the yards. There were rows and rows of them, just as close together as it was possible to range them, and as far as the eye could see their glittering boilers extended down the tracks in even lines. Each one had a freshly glued yellow label, on which was printed in big black capitals the name of its home station. That was the most significant preparation we had witnessed as yet. Presently we observed that the platforms of freight and express depots had been swept clear of every obstacles and the usually encumbered Gare de l'Est was clean and empty as the hand of man could make it.

In the courtyard our party separated, promising to meet for the five o'clock express--"Unless something serious prevents."

H. had finished in no time.

"All I've got to do is to go home and wait until I am called for," he explained as we walked away at a brisk gait.

At the corner of the Rue des Archives we met Monsieur Gauthier on his way to his Museum.

"What would you advise us to do?"

"Well, to speak plainly, I should advise you to shut up the chateau, leave a guardian, and open your Paris apartment. You're in the east, you know! 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!"

We entered the Bazar, which is the "biggest" of the big stores in Paris. Every day in the week, and Sundays included, it is usually so crowded with buyers and sellers that one has to elbow one's way, and literally serve one's self. To our amazement it was empty--literally empty. Not a single customer--not a single clerk to be seen. The long stretches of floor and counters were vacant as though the store were closed. I gasped a little in surprise and just as I did so a female voice from behind a distant desk called out:

"What is your pleasure, Madame?"

I turned, and a little woman in black advanced towards me.

"Yes, I know the place looks queer, but you see all our clerks are young men and everyone of them has been obliged to join his regiment since closing time last evening!"

"Leave farming alone and come over to Conard's. He's bound to have some news," said H. impatiently.

Conard's is a big publishing firm on the boulevard, renowned as a meeting place for most of the well-known political men.

The person addressed kept on perusing the titles of the books spread along the counter, and drawing a long puff from his cigarette and without lifting his eyes, said, "The mobilization is for four o'clock! Official. Have you something entertaining to read on my way to the front?"

"Yes, gentlemen."

"War?"'

"It looks very much like it!"

Though almost expected, the news gave us a thrill. 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. A big estate like that needs looking after," said Conard.

"Where do you live?" questioned the gentleman who had given us the news.

"Well, if you decide to go there I advise you to take the soonest train. The eastern railway belongs to the army, and only the army, beginning at noon to-day."

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