My Double Life: The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt Part 32

"Which way did the rascal go?" asked a sergeant who had come with the soldier.

"I can't say," I replied.

"Oh well, I don't care to run after him," he said; "there are enough dead men here."

We continued our way until we came to a place where several roads met, and it was then possible for us to take a route a little more suitable for vehicles.

After going through Busigny and a wood, where there were bogs in which we only just escaped being swallowed up, our painful journey came to an end, and we arrived at Cateau in the night, half dead with fatigue, fright, and despair.

I was obliged to take a day's rest there, for I was prostrate with feverishness. We had two little rooms, roughly white-washed but quite clean. The floor was of red, shiny bricks, and there was a polished wood bed and white curtains.

I sent for a doctor for my charming little Soubise, who, it seemed to me, was worse than I was. He thought we were both in a very bad state, though. A nervous feverishness had taken all the use out of my limbs and made my head burn. She could not keep still, but kept seeing spectres and fires, hearing shouts and turning round quickly, imagining that some one had touched her on the shoulder. The good man gave us a soothing draught to overcome our fatigue, and the next day a very hot bath brought back the suppleness to our limbs. It was then six days since we had left Paris, and it would take about twenty more hours to reach Homburg, for in those days trains went much less quickly than at present. I took a train for Brussels, where I was counting on buying a trunk and a few necessary things.

From Cateau to Brussels there was no hindrance to our journey, and we were able to take the train again the same evening.

I had replenished our wardrobe, which certainly needed it, and we continued our journey without much difficulty as far as Cologne. But on arriving in that city we had a cruel disappointment. The train had only just entered the station, when a railway official, pa.s.sing quickly in front of the carriages, shouted something in German which I did not catch. Every one seemed to be in a hurry, and men and women pushed each other without any courtesy.

I addressed another official and showed him our tickets. He took up my bag, very obligingly, and hurried after the crowd. We followed, but I did not understand the excitement until the man flung my bag into a compartment and signed to me to get in as quickly as possible.

Soubise was already on the step when she was pushed aside violently by a railway porter, who slammed the door, and before I was fully aware of what had happened the train had disappeared. My bag had gone, and our trunk also. The trunk had been placed in a luggage van that had been unhooked from the train which had just arrived, and immediately fastened on to the express now departing. I began to cry with rage. An official took pity on us and led us to the station-master. He was a very superior sort of man, who spoke French fairly well. I sank down in his great leather arm-chair and told him my misadventure, sobbing nervously. He looked kind and sympathetic. He immediately telegraphed for my bag and trunk to be given into the care of the station-master at the first station.

"You will have them again to-morrow, towards mid-day," he said.

"Then I cannot start this evening?" I asked.

"Oh no, that is impossible," he replied. "There is no train, for the express that will take you to Homburg does not start before to-morrow morning."

"Oh G.o.d, G.o.d!" I exclaimed, and I was seized with veritable despair, which soon affected Mlle. Soubise too.

The poor station-master was rather embarra.s.sed, and tried to soothe me.

"Do you know any one here?" he asked.

"No, no one. I do not know any one in Cologne."

"Well then, I will have you driven to the Hotel du Nord. My sister-in-law has been there for two days, and she will look after you."

Half an hour later his carriage arrived, and he took us to the Hotel du Nord, after driving a long way round to show us the city. But at that epoch I did not admire anything belonging to the Germans.

On arriving at the Hotel du Nord, he introduced us to his sister-in-law, a fair-haired young woman, pretty, but too tall and too big for my taste. I must say, though, that she was very sweet and affable. She engaged two bedrooms for us near her own rooms. She had a flat on the ground floor, and she invited us to dinner, which was served in her drawing-room. Her brother-in-law joined us in the evening. The charming woman was very musical. She played to us from Berlioz, Gounod, and even Auber. I thoroughly appreciated the delicacy of this woman in only letting us hear French composers. I asked her to play us something from Mozart and Wagner. At that name she turned to me and exclaimed, "Do you like Wagner?"

"I like his music," I replied, "but I detest the man."

Mlle. Soubise whispered to me, "Ask her to play Liszt."

She overheard, and complied with infinite graciousness. I must admit that I spent a delightful evening there.

At ten o'clock the station-master (whose name I have very stupidly forgotten, and I cannot find it in any of my notes) told me that he would call for us at eight the following morning, and he then took leave of us. I fell asleep, lulled by Mozart, Gounod, &c.

At eight o'clock the next morning a servant came to tell me that the carriage was waiting for us. There was a gentle knock at my door, and our beautiful hostess of the previous evening said sweetly, "Come, you must start!" I was really very much touched by the delicacy of the pretty German woman.

It was such a fine day that I asked her if we should have time to walk there, and on her reply in the affirmative we all three started for the station, which is not far from the hotel. A special compartment had been reserved for us, and we installed ourselves in it as comfortably as possible. The brother and sister shook hands with us, and wished us a pleasant journey.

When the train had started I discovered in one of the corners a bouquet of forget-me-nots with the sister's card and a box of chocolates from the station-master.

I was at last about to arrive at my goal, and was in a state of wild excitement at the idea of seeing once more all my beloved ones. I should have liked to have gone to sleep. My eyes, which had grown larger with anxiety, travelled through s.p.a.ce more rapidly than the train went. I fumed each time it stopped, and envied the birds I saw flying along. I laughed with delight as I thought of the surprised faces of those I was going to see again, and then I began to tremble with anxiety. What had happened to them, and should I find them all? I should if--ah, those "ifs," those "becauses," and those "buts"! My mind became full of them, they bristled with illnesses and accidents, and I began to weep. My poor little travelling companion began to weep too.

Finally we came within sight of Homburg. Twenty more minutes of this turning of wheels and we should enter the station. But just as though all the sprites and devils from the infernal regions had concerted to torture my patience, we stopped short. All heads were out of the windows. "What is it?" "What's the matter?" "Why are we not going on?"

There was a train in front of us at a standstill, with a broken brake, and the line had to be cleared. I fell back on my seat, clenching my teeth and hands, and looking up in the air to distinguish the evil spirits which were so bent on tormenting me, and then I resolutely closed my eyes. I muttered some invectives against the invisible sprites, and declared that, as I would not suffer any more, I was now going to sleep. I then fell fast asleep, for the power of sleeping when I wish is a precious gift which G.o.d has bestowed on me. In the most frightful circ.u.mstances and the most cruel moments of life, when I have felt that my reason was giving way under shocks that have been too great or too painful, my will has laid hold of my reason, just as one holds a bad-tempered little dog that wants to bite, and, subjugating it, my will has said to my reason: "Enough. You can take up again to-morrow your suffering and your plans, your anxiety, your sorrow and your anguish.

You have had enough for to-day. You would give way altogether under the weight of so many troubles, and you would drag me along with you. I will not have it! We will forget everything for so many hours and go to sleep together!" And I have gone to sleep. This, I swear to.

Mlle. Soubise roused me as soon as the train entered the station. I was refreshed and calmer. A minute later we were in a carriage and had given the address, 7 Ober Stra.s.se.

We were soon there, and I found all my adored ones, big and little, and they were all very well. Oh, what happiness it was! The blood pulsed in all my arteries. I had suffered so much that I burst out into delicious laughter and sobs.

Who can ever describe the infinite pleasure of tears of joy! During the next two days the maddest things occurred, which I will not relate, so incredible would they sound. Among others, fire broke out in the house; we had to escape in our night clothes and camp out for six hours in five feet of snow, &c. &c.

XIX

MY RETURN TO PARIS--THE COMMUNE--AT ST. GERMAIN-EN-LAYE

Everybody being safe and sound, we set out for Paris, but on arriving at St. Denis we found there were no more trains. It was four o'clock in the morning. The Germans were masters of all the suburbs of Paris, and trains only ran for their service. After an hour spent in running about, in discussions and rebuffs, I met with an officer of higher rank, who was better educated and more agreeable. He had a locomotive prepared to take me to the Gare du Havre (Gare St. Lazare).

The journey was very amusing. My mother, my aunt, my sister Regina, Mlle. Soubise, the two maids, the children, and I all squeezed into a little square s.p.a.ce, in which there was a very small, narrow bench, which I think was the place for the signalman in those days. The engine went very slowly, as the rails were frequently obstructed by carts or railway carriages.

We left at five in the morning and arrived at seven. At a place which I cannot locate our German conductors were exchanged for French conductors. I questioned them, and learnt that revolutionary troubles were beginning in Paris.

The stoker with whom I was talking was a very intelligent and very advanced individual.

"You would do better to go somewhere else, and not to Paris," he said, "for before long they will come to blows there."

We had arrived. But as no train was expected in at that hour, it was impossible to find a carriage. I got down with my tribe from the locomotive, to the great amazement of the station officials.

I was no longer very rich, but I offered twenty francs to one of the men if he would see to our six bags. We were to send for my trunk and those belonging to my family later on.

There was not a single carriage outside the station. The children were very tired, but what was to be done? I was then living at No. 4 Rue de Rome, and this was not far away, but my mother scarcely ever walked, for she was delicate and had a weak heart. The children, too, were very, very tired. Their eyes were puffed up and scarcely open, and their little limbs were benumbed by the cold and immobility. I began to get desperate, but a milk cart was just pa.s.sing by, and I sent a porter to hail it. I offered twenty francs if the man would drive my mother and the two children to 4 Rue de Rome.

"And you too, if you like, young lady," said the milkman. "You are thinner than a gra.s.shopper, and you won't make it any heavier."

I did not want inviting twice, although rather annoyed by the man's speech.

When once my mother was installed, in spite of her hesitation, by the side of the milkman, and the children and I were in amongst the full and empty milk-pails, I said to our driver, "Would you mind coming back to fetch the others?" I pointed to the remaining group, and added, "You shall have twenty francs more."