Before going farther in my narrative I shall say here, lest I forget it, that two of the supposed officers were caught within the fortnight and shot at Meaux as German spies—the third managed to make his escape.
Hearing the carriage coming down the hill, we walked towards the doorway. At that same moment we saw the white-trousered gendarme hastening towards the town hall. Catching might of H., he held up the sealed envelope he held in his band, and shouted, "You were right, Monsieur. It has come!"
We jumped into the victoria, but as we crossed the square the garde-champetre caught the bridle and stopped our turnout.
"One moment, Monsieur."
Then the town-crier appeared, instantly causing the staggering groups to cluster into one. He had no need to ring his bell. He merely lifted his hand and obtained instant silence, and then slowly read out in deep, solemn, measured tones, which I shall never forget until my dying day.
"Extrme urgence. Ordre de mobilisation generale. Le premier jour de la mobilization est le dimanche deux aout!"
That was all! It was enough! The tension of those last two days was broken. No matter what the news, it was a relief. And we drove away 'mid the rising hum of hundreds of tongues, loosened after the agonizing suspense.
The news had not yet reached Villiers when we drove through the village street. We turned into the chateau and found Elizabeth Gauthier, her children and almost all the servants, grouped near the entrance ball. They looked towards us with an appealing gaze.
As H. opened his mouth to answer, the sharp pealing of the tocsin, such as it rings only in cases of great emergency, followed by the rolling of the drum, told them better than we could that the worst bad come.
The servants retired in silence and still the bell rang on. Presently we could hear the clicking of the sabots on the bard road as the peasants hurried from the fields towards the Mairie.