Six Women And The Invasion Part 12

"Alas!" groaned Genevieve. "Never again shall I like my room, after I have seen a Prussian loll on my bed."

"To begin with," I said, "you won't see him. And secondly, I have a just and clear conception of a Prussian's method of repose. He stretches himself out as if he were on duty, and his head on the pillow is carefully adorned with a helmet. He is just as proper to look upon as his photograph would be, taken after a review."

We hung tasteless chromolithographs in the place of pretty water-colours; we took away all the books, the knick-knacks, and the papers. Here and there Colette pinned up peac.o.c.k's feathers--"to bring them ill-luck," she said. Then both rooms waited with a grim air for the unwelcome guests. Presently the orderlies came in, brought heaps of baggage, got everything ready for their masters, and withdrew. An indiscreet curiosity prompted us to take an inventory of the riches deposited with us. Yvonne and Colette spat, like two angry cats.

"Look here! Isn't it a shame? For a single man, two boxes! five bags!

portmanteaux! Well, if he wants so much to go and fight...." Crafleux was more modest, but Barbu had certainly imported a whole dressing-room from Germany. The day after his arrival he showed off heaps of small brushes in small boxes, small creams in small pots, small scents in small bottles, and photographs and photographic apparatus, electric lamps and re-fills for these lamps, sporting guns and india-rubber cushions, soft blankets and uniforms without number. But he was chiefly remarkable for his befrogged pyjamas of sky blue or Chinese flesh colour! The sight of him must have been affecting when he had on his helmet by way of nightcap! So Barbu and Crafleux installed themselves downstairs, and we upstairs. Yvonne settled down in a tiny attic, and Colette slept on a couch in Antoinette's room. I gave Genevieve a share of my own bed in the room which already sheltered the youthful Pierrot.

We were not very comfortable, and what was worse, we suffered from the cold. This requires an explanation. Some time ago a direful rumour had spread about: "They have requisitioned a great number of mattresses in Vivaise." Now Vivaise is a village not far from Morny. "You may be sure they will do the same here," said the well-informed. And so, in all houses, the beds were only half as high as before; and he was cunning indeed who could say what had become of the missing part. We, for instance, have plenty of mattresses: large, soft, elastic mattresses which would make you wish to be ill and keep your bed--and should the enemy of France rest upon them? That shall never be, we declared. By the unanimous exertion of the whole family, climbing, pulling, pushing, toiling, we succeeded in hoisting up most of these useful objects, and hiding them in the loft under the roof. Every bed was left with one only. When Barbu and Crafleux intruded themselves into the house, we were hard put to it. One of us made shift with a pallia.s.se, while Genevieve and I slept on a hair mattress. This plan is not to be recommended unless you choose to mortify your flesh, or to copy the fakirs of India. We could have put up with our uncomfortable bedding if, to add to our misfortune, the cold had not seized upon us. Our present guests laid their hands upon heaps of blankets, their predecessors had stolen two, and so we had just enough, and nothing to spare.

We went to sleep as straight as arrows, one on each side of the bed; we woke up in the morning twisted into knots, one against the other, like two shivering cats. Despair drove Yvonne from one extreme to the other; either she lay half-smothered with heat under an enormous eider-down, or benumbed with cold under a thin cotton blanket. The authors of our hardships tasted the honey-dew of sleep upon beds of down; they knew not that threatening fists were shaken at them upstairs, and that bitter invectives vowed them to execration. Yet I think that when logs unexpectedly tumbled down, and pieces of furniture joined the dance, they gave a start and felt uneasy. But on the whole, as quiet as Vert-Vert at the Visitandines, they led a happy life, got up between nine and ten, saw about their convoy, fed well at the village inn, often went shooting, or, if they had a mind, drove out to Laon, came back home to rest a while and dress for dinner, and then about ten, eleven, or midnight, got back into their rooms and their comfortable beds.

I hinted that war, conducted in this fashion, was not disagreeable.

Barbu knew that I was laughing at them.

"But our comrades ... who are fighting...."

"Do not lead such a pleasant life ... I am sure of it."

"And I think ... French convoys take their ease too."

"Well, I hope so."

But really, Barbu, it was only right that you should live in comfort, for none knew better than you how to appreciate it!

One day, going in to return a newspaper he had lent me, I surprised this lover of comforts seated in an arm-chair, his feet on the fender, his head resting on a cushion, his back on another, a book in his hand, a lamp behind him. He looked a perfect picture of self-satisfaction. But such delights cannot last for ever. "The present convoys are going to the front," some people said. Do you hear, Barbu? You will go to the front. You will change your carpet for the mud of the trenches, your pleasant fire for an icy fog, the studious light of your lamp for the red glare of the sh.e.l.ls! You will go to the front!

They did not go to the front. They were to pa.s.s one or two nights in our house, and they stayed a month!

The village groaned under the reign of the invaders. Every morning the housewives on their way to the baker poured out their complaints.

"Have yours decent manners?"

"Oh, mine are very hard to please!"

And the gossips began to tell their grievances, for many of these undesirable guests were in truth very hard to please, and their manners were detestable. They wiped their filthy boots on the beds and arm-chairs, deluged the carpets and floors with water; they burnt the furniture and linen with their cigars. They came back very late at night, generally tipsy, went to the kitchen, searched the larder and sideboard, and cooked an extra meal with the stolen goods. The mistress of the house deemed herself very happy when she was not aroused from a well-earned sleep and ordered to go and rattle about saucepans and kitchen ranges. Of course, Barbu and Crafleux would have repudiated such methods with disgust. Barbu and Crafleux piqued themselves on their gentlemanly manners. Barbu and Crafleux were two model Prussians.

For truth's sake I must admit that occasionally they came home after midnight amiably drunk, and--I am a credible witness--danced a jig in the yard. But these are venial sins, and our watch-dogs themselves, who from the first day had been hand in glove with the officers, looked indulgently upon such gambols. Gracieuse was even accused of cherishing a guilty pa.s.sion for Crafleux, having once been discovered, curled into a ball, upon the bed of the gentleman aforesaid-a most improper act for a lady dog brought up never to enter the house. Another fault was ascribed to Barbu. On the officers' arrival, we had held a secret meeting to discuss the question of lights. At length we decided to give one candle to each man, having laid by a box in case of emergency.

The next morning we discovered a scandal unheard of. Barbu ... his candle ... a virgin candle, a white, shapely candle! The criminal had burnt it up in a single night! A huge candle which in the present state of things was worth its weight in gold! A few waxen tears, still hanging to the socket, bore witness to the poor thing's death. We put in its stead a dumpy one, whose loss we should not feel so deeply, and after that he must provide others for himself. He must provide his firing also. As a matter of fact he did. One day the officers demanded fires in their rooms.

"Very well, the charwoman will look after it. But ... fuel runs short."

Barbu wrote at once a note of hand, gave it to the smart bustling sergeant, and the day after ten sacks of coal were brought and discharged in the coach-house. We gazed at the black heap with envious eyes, for we used to do our cooking and warm our rooms with a poor f.a.ggot of wood.

The officers very well knew that we lacked all kinds of stores, and Barbu asked me once in a roundabout way if they might offer us some petroleum and sugar.

"We have just received an abundant supply," he said, "and shall be enchanted if you will make use of them."

This was worthy of reflection. We answered at last that we would gratefully take their proffered goods, on condition that we might pay for them.

My sisters-in-law made a great outcry against this proposal.

"Never," said they, "will we receive presents from Prussians!"

"Gently," I replied. "To begin with, we pay in cash for their 'presents'; then our hospitality, forced as it is, is worthy of some recompense. And, indeed, it is ridiculous to speak of 'their'

merchandise. Is it not stolen goods? Does it not come from our bonded warehouses and stores? Besides, is it not a good deed to help in exhausting their provisions?"

So petroleum and sugar, flanked with coffee and rice, reappeared in the house, and were highly appreciated by all, in spite of their Teutonic origin.

But when the officers carried kindness so far as to offer us a hare of their own shooting, they embarra.s.sed us sorely. Though we were not tempted to accept the gift, we thought a denial would offend our dangerous guests.

"We have too many," Barbu said artlessly; "yesterday we have shot a roebuck, seven hares, and twelve partridges in the wood of Bucy."

In our own wood! Very well, we accept the hare; it will not pay for the rent of the shooting, so we feasted upon jugged hare, and found the very French flavour much to our taste.

Barbu and Crafleux were two model Prussians. I do not unsay it. I even think I have proved it. But a Prussian is always a Prussian, and the best of the brood will never understand certain things.

"Is your piano dumb?" asked Barbu one day.

A few dances might have cheered up the house, he thought, and the roar of the guns and the clatter of German feet in the street would have been the best possible accompaniment. Another day, this same Barbu--to tell the truth he talked to me with his pipe in his mouth, but you cannot expect much from men brought up in Heidelberg--this same Barbu asked me if I would not go for a drive to Laon with him and some fellow-officers.

"It will be a good opportunity for shopping," he said. "No? The other ladies will not either? Last week I dared not ask you, our carriage was too modest, but to-day we have one of the Prince of Monaco's coaches."

Barbu still wonders why we refused. Then something still better happened. When the officers had settled themselves in our house, we made up our minds that the Germans should not catch sight of us in the pa.s.sage, and the order was given, "Disappear"; and the Germans never saw the pretty faces which swarmed about us. But since I am a married woman and proficient in German--my mother-in-law does not understand a word of it--I had been appointed spokeswoman to the officers in case of need.

But one day I suppose the intruders caught sight of a golden head in flight, and Barbu asked me:

"There are young girls in the house?"

"Yes, my four sisters-in-law."

"Really, we had not the least idea of it."

The next day I happened to go into the drawing-room. The blinds were down, and the door was open into the pa.s.sage. An unaccustomed object was lying on the table. Bless me, it was a box of chocolates! Delicious sweets, no doubt of it! And on the cover Barbu had written in his neatest hand and best French, "Sacrifice to the invisible spirits."

Every one came and contemplated the gift and the autograph with laughter. Then we allowed the poor chocolates to get damp in the dimly lighted room. They disappeared three weeks after as mysteriously as they had come, the day of "our Prussians'" departure. May they lie lightly on Barbu's stomach!

At last the convoy left Morny. On the morning on which they were to start Barbu plunged us into an ocean of perplexities by asking us:

"You do not mind my taking a few snapshots of your house, do you?"

"Certainly ... not, sir."

"I should be very happy if one or two of the young ladies consented to sit at a window."

And n.o.body had prompted him in that! In vain I objected that the hour was early, and that my sisters-in-law got up very late.

"Oh, it does not matter," said he. "We will wait for them. Ask the ladies to get ready, and we will come back in half an hour."

Think how nice it would be in a year or two in Berlin, or Leipzig, or Heidelberg, to show a few photographs! "Here are a few souvenirs of our victorious stay in France! In that house we led a very happy life. The young ladies whom you see were reluctant hostesses, but the French, breathing revenge, were obliged to welcome us!"