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The management of the Hôtel itself was in the hands of M. Casanova, who acted as directeur under the Company which had built and owned it. He was short and stout, with a flowing black beard, and soft, well-manicured little hands, very courteous and agreeable, prolific of promises, which for some reason never seemed to be fulfilled. He was moved to the very depths of his self-indulgent soul by the war and the proximity of suffering and wounded men. He would descend at night in his pyjamas if he heard a convoy coming in, and penetrate to the wards to see what was going on, and to offer help. Though not in the best of health, he would fetch hot water or lift weights. He would reach out a trembling hand to hold things, while he wiped his eyes with the other. His sympathy and distress, combined with a desire to kiss the busy hands of the doctors, made him a touching figure.
In his train were always strange ladies, wrapped in blankets, who followed him and peeped round the doors. His rooms were luxurious. His menu was spécial. But he roused himself to serve and to help with all sincerity. Unfortunately, his relations with M. Aubry became somewhat strained at a later stage, for he had a passionate temperament. There were wont to be terrible domestic uproars below stairs. M. Casanova’s method of administering justice was to declare that some one was coupable of breaking into the wine-cellars, eating too much butter or causing the cheese to disappear. He accused everybody, and everybody asserted his innocence; so he said they must draw lots as to which of them must be chassés. The lot fell on four Belgian girls who hung about the place and did services; at this the rest of the staff was up in arms, and M. Perrin, the engineer, said, if they were chassés, he also would be chassé; and in a perfect storm of rage and recrimination it was decided that every one was to be chassés. M. Perrin disappeared. The apparatus for the supply of hot water and heating ran down in his absence, and the Belgian girls wailed that they were being cast upon the streets.
The Médecin-en-Chef waited upon M. Casanova in the interest of the girls. He presented her with twelve cakes of soap and some scent:
‘As a testimony of my admiration for your courage and nobility,’ he said.
And, kissing her hand, he added:
‘The members of l’équipe under your distinguished direction, madame, are models of virtue and devotion; but there are others of whom one can say nothing but evil.’
His mood, however, softened, and in the morning it was understood that no one was to leave, and, to the relief of all concerned, M. Perrin returned and resumed his duties.
The officials of the French Red Cross were delighted with the rapid way in which the hospital had got to work, and took a great interest in all that was being done there. Not infrequently Madame Pérouse, accompanied by M. Falcouz, would arrive to pay a visit at eight o’clock in the morning. The first greetings over, she would suggest going to greet the officers—‘prendre de leurs nouvelles,’ so she put it. At that hour the ward work was in full swing, and any one who has had experience of nurses knows how the Sister feels when visitors arrive before she is ready. British officers, too, prefer to have time to breakfast and shave before being inspected. But the dear old people were oblivious of their embarrassment and entered the ward with genial ‘Bonjours.’ They asked the major how he was and he replied, with grave courtesy, ‘Merci, madame; merci, monsieur.’ They asked the others one by one if they spoke French, and they replied severally, ‘Pas beaucoup,’ or ‘Un petit peu.’ And so, bowing and gracious, they passed on their tour of inspection.
In those days very few officers seemed able to speak French, and intercourse with their French brothers-at-arms in neighbouring beds was inconveniently restricted. Referring to the language, one of them said, ‘The insuperable difficulty of this campaign is the language—it’s unspeakable!’ And some of the doctors echoed his opinion heartily.