Is any one coming in? Is there a knock at the door? Is the bell ringing?

For we had been officially chosen as b.u.t.ts, and at any time, under the most futile pretences, two or three hussars, or a troop of them, used to enter the house. They well-nigh forced the gate open, or broke the bell, and roaring out horribly one day required harness we never had, another maintained they would find in our garden their horses broken loose.

Then, at nightfall, when our neighbours were all shut up in their houses, they would come back and stay in front of the house. More than once they arrived drunk, and all the while they made a frightful uproar, shouting, calling after us, kicking in the gates, knocking at the shutters with their revolvers, and trying to break them open. If from upstairs we asked what they wanted, they answered with threats, insults, and invitations to come down.

This life was a very h.e.l.l.

For weeks we kept a ladder raised against the wall so that if the soldiers, more intoxicated than usual, managed to force a shutter open and entered the house we might escape. Thanks to a small pent-house built on the other side of the wall, we could in a few steps be in Mme.

Lantois' orchard.

The farmer's wife had said to us:

"Do come in case of an emergency. The doors overlooking the garden are never locked, and if you were pursued my husband and son would take a hay-fork to defend you."

Colette, who now slept in the big room upstairs, had a hatchet nigh at hand.

"Oh," she said, "if they got up to my room, I would split two or three heads before I jumped out of the window!"

Of a certainty we had a very large share in the distribution of cares, yet the sun shone--or rather the wind blew--for every one. It is useless to say that the hussars were prompt of hand, and were not always satisfied with threats. One day Lieutenant von Bernhausen had a mind to go to Laon with his retinue. He sent for the Mayor of Morny:

"Make haste, I want three coaches put to at eleven o'clock. Be off!"

Bewildered, the Mayor hurried away to carry out the order. Where would he get three coaches whose wheels would hold together, three horses whose legs would not shake under them, whose backs would not be covered with bruises and scabs, when the farmers were all eaten out of house and home? Besides, the less sorry jades were out in the fields at that time of the day. By dint of researches and efforts, three decent coaches were got together at length. But it was half-past eleven.

For thirteen minutes the commandant had been making the air echo with the thunder of his wrath, and when he saw the Mayor red in the face and out of breath, he rushed towards him with a stick, and vigorously beat the shoulders of the unfortunate magistrate.

Such is the proper way to deal with French people.

Let us be just. The following day the same Bernhausen dusted the jacket of one of his own soldiers, who had ventured to kick a civilian. Yet it is worth remarking that the rascal did not get punished on account of the ill-usage inflicted on a defenceless person, but for the insolence he had shown by encroaching on his superior's rights. Gold lace alone empowers you to distribute hard thumps and blows.

One farm on the Laon road, being in a conspicuous place, had to suffer particularly from the plunderers and requisitioners who happened to pa.s.s by. One day Mme. Vialat could not succeed even in giving her sick child something hot. As soon as anything was ready the soldiers rushed forward, took it away, and laughed at the thought that they had played a nice little trick.

There remained in the house a certain number of sheepskins, carefully prepared, and not less carefully hidden. One day the hussars discovered and laid hold of the treasure. The farmer lost his temper, and tried to defend his goods. Too many things had already been stolen; he required a note of hand; but Sainte-Brute never gave notes of hand. Things were growing bad; the farmer could not keep down his anger, and gave the plunderers a piece of his mind. The soldiers threw themselves upon him; Mme. Vialat and her niece ran to the rescue.

"They might have killed him," the young girl told us. "I came and stood before him."

The brutes gave her a sound slap on the face, struck her aunt with the b.u.t.t-end of their guns, and on their own private authority carried away the precious skins.

A young shopkeeper of the village, Mlle. Grellet, objected to a close search into her own linen. The soldiers had no chance of success, as they were looking for a missing wheel. But the sergeant pretended that no one dared withstand his will, and with a hoa.r.s.e laugh he rudely knocked the girl about.

Indignant, she struck him on the face. She was directly knocked down, her features belaboured with clenched fists, and justice was demanded of the commandant. The poor girl was immediately sentenced to three days'

imprisonment. We saw her taken to the "mairie," she was shaken with sobs, her b.l.o.o.d.y face all bruised and swollen. She was guilty of having inflicted serious ill-treatment on the person of the rosy, smiling, and triumphant sergeant who was accompanying her.

As to ourselves, the witnesses of these chivalrous deeds, we looked on, with our fists clenched, with our teeth grinding, with tears of rage in our eyes ... and never uttered a word.

It was no use crying for help. Our very prayers seemed to rise to an unrelenting G.o.d, and we could but murmur:

"Father, Father, why hast Thou forsaken us?"

It was the reign of terror.

"Ah, Madam," said a woman all in tears, whose husband owned a merry-go-round, "they have just requisitioned our mechanical organ. Ah, Madam, such a beautiful 'music,' for which we had given four thousand francs--all our savings! They have taken it to amuse themselves. And how furious they were! When they are well spoken I don't mind it so much, but when they look so angry I tremble like a leaf."

It was the reign of terror.

"When I see them coming," another neighbour declared, "it makes my blood run cold."

M. Lonet himself acknowledged that he never saw Prussians enter his house without an inward thrill of fear.

"Whom will they harm to-day?" we thought. "People, animals, or things?"

It was the reign of terror.

When the invaders alarmed strong and courageous men, I, who am not a thunderbolt of war, how could I put a good face on the matter?

Genevieve, on the other hand, was more indignant than frightened, but, as to myself, I was frightened to death.

It was the reign of terror, terror, terror. And you do not understand the meaning of this, you who have not rushed to your light to blow it out for fear its pale glimmer would betray your presence, who have not stopped panting in the dark to listen to angry yells uttered close to your windows, to hear your shutters shake and creak under the a.s.sailants' blows--you who have not realised that you are a woman and weak, and that a dozen brutes will seek more than your life if they succeed in their design. You do not know what it is like, but we know it from sad experience, and if the horrors that have overwhelmed other places have been spared us, at least we have felt their envenomed breath, and our bodies and souls have not yet set themselves free from the poison.

CHAPTER IX

Thus ground down and sunk in grief we reached the end of the year. You must not think that we were as yet urged to desperation. The courageous inhabitants who, after hours' waiting, got a pa.s.sport to go to Laon always came back with the most comforting information.

"The news is very good ... very good. I should not be astonished if the Germans went away in a short time."

The farmer's wife of the "Huchettes" who daily took milk to Laon--so many bottles were requisitioned for the Red Cross--mysteriously said with her forefinger lifted up:

"I have good hope, good hope, that 'our French' will be back before the 1st of January."

And the cannon was ever booming; its voice cheered us; we never got weary of listening to it and studying it. Once we even believed that it promised our deliverance. It was the 21st of December, at about eleven in the evening. Genevieve and I were gloomily reading books held quite close to the light, when Colette knocked at our door and appeared in her nightgown:

"Come, come, a battle is being fought just now, don't you hear the cannon? It is roaring louder than ever."

On tiptoe, for fear we should arouse Mme. Valaine from her sleep, we went upstairs. Colette's window was wide open; we squeezed together in the narrow s.p.a.ce. Both Genevieve and I got upon the window-sill and leaned against the frame, whilst the others pressed against the rail in front. And there, half-dressed, unconscious of the cold, we eagerly watched the horizon. The action took place in the direction of Vailly.

In fact, the cannon was roaring with a rage never yet heard. Its near or distant rumbling never ceased for a second, and the bursting sh.e.l.ls succeeded one another uninterruptedly. When certain pieces of ordnance were firing off full volleys, we felt a quivering all about us, and on the writing-table the penholder jingled against the crystal of the inkstand. Our bodies, our souls thrilled with enthusiasm, and the battle awoke an inward echo. With our minds' eyes we eagerly watched the place where great things happened. Our hearts flew onward to meet those who seemed to approach us!... Oh, come, come!

Our eyes were riveted on the horizon in flames, where ever-renewed flashes showed a red undulation marked with blue spots, or streaked with the lights of five turning beacons. We saw the sh.e.l.ls burst, above, below, to the right, to the left. The cannonade seemed to slacken.

Listen! listen! A soft breeze brought us the thrilling sounds of sharp firing, the crackling of machine-guns. Then the hollow voice began again, and drowned the others.

"Oh," Colette cried out, wringing her hands, "to think that our brothers, our hearts' blood, are over there! They are fighting ... they sink to the ground ... they are wounded ... they are dying...."

We trembled, we bit our lips, we said in a murmur:

"If only they were going to break through, if only they came back...."

"Oh, come, come!..."