Under the circumstances, the position of the unfortunate pedestrians was a very unpleasant one, and my father undertook to speak on their behalf to Mr. Wodehouse, pointing out to him that it was unfair to let these unfortunate people trudge all the way to Versailles.
"But what am I to do?" Mr. Wodehouse replied. "I am afraid that no vehicles can be obtained here."
"The German authorities will perhaps help you in the matter," urged my father.
"I doubt it. But please remember that everybody was warned before leaving Paris that he would do so at his own risk and peril, and that the Embassy could not charge itself with the expense."
"That is exactly what surprised me," said my father. "I know that the Charitable Fund has done something, but I thought that the Embassy would have done more."
"I had no instructions," replied Mr. Wodehouse.
"But, surely, at such a time as this, a man initiates his own instructions."
"Perhaps so; but I had no money."
On hearing this, my father, for a moment, almost lost his temper.
"Surely, Mr. Wodehouse," said he, "you need only have gone to Baron de
Rothschild—he would have let you have whatever money you required."
[I have reconstructed the above dialogue from my diary, which I posted up
on reaching Versailles.]
Mr. Wodehouse looked worried. He was certainly a most amiable man, but he was not, I think, quite the man for the situation. Moreover, like my father, he was in very poor health at this time. Still, he realized that he must try to effect something, and eventually, with the assistance of the mayor and the German authorities, a few farm-carts were procured for the accommodation of the poorer British subjects. During the long interval which had elapsed, however, a good many men had gone off of their own accord, tired of waiting, and resolving to try their luck in one and another direction. Thus our procession was a somewhat smaller one when we at last quitted Brie-Comte-Robert for Corbeil.