Just then the president of the Association des Dames Franpaises came in.
Madame Macherez, a fine looking, elderly woman with iron-gray hair and clear blue eyes, is the widow of former Senator Macherez. Her keen understanding and wonderful business ability have won her the respect and esteem of two entire nations; both friend and enemy are united in their praises of this wonderful person.
I was not long in explaining my intentions—I could supply sixty beds, with room for the double; would take all the management of a hospital, gladly help with the nursing, but must have a doctor and other professional aid.
Madame Macherez accepted my proposition, knew just the person I needed, and taking off her badge pinned it on to the lapel of my coat and made me a member of her society.
"Now, then, let's get through with the formalities at once. Here is your carte d'identite. You must paste your photo on to it. With that and an armlet stamped from the War Department you will have free access to all the roads and you won't have to be bothered with other papers. Let us go at once to the city hall, where they will stamp their seal on your card, which makes it valid for your identity. From there we must hunt out the colonel in command and get his seal. That makes it valid with military authorities."
The president's motor was waiting outside the door.
"How long shall we be?"
"Ah, an hour at least."
I turned to my chauffeur who was tampering with his punctured tire.
"Go and see if you can't find a new inner tube, and meet me at the Hotel du Soled d'Or where I will lunch, at eleven."