What was most evident at present was the fact that rations were shorter among this party than among those who had stopped in the morning, and certainly not for the lack of funds. All of them had money—gold a-plenty.
They had found less to buy—voila tout. They were glad to accept the vegetable soup, rabbit stew and cooked fruit that we had prepared but insisted on paying for their portions, which of course I refused, much to their dismay, and I am certain the servants were well repaid for their trouble.
And what were their plans? To go as far south as possible. Perhaps they would eventually cross to Morocco or Canada. Why not? The whole village was there—all the men had their trades. They would colonize, for it was useless to think of going "home." They no longer possessed one, and who could tell—the war might last a year or more?
At that assertion I protested. A year? Never! Why, the finances of the country couldn't stand it, and I went on to state how, when in England during the Agadir crisis three years previous, I had heard competent authorities state that three months was the very limit for the duration of hostilities! That somewhat cheered them—especially as I announced the Russian advance, and on the map we noted the rapid progress of the famous "steam roller," which, if it continued as it had begun, would certainly reach Berlin by Christmas! (I offer these statements without comment.)
Before they retired Madame Guix asked if there were any who felt the slightest ill, for it were better to nip sickness in the bud, and she cheerfully lanced festers and pricked blisters, bathed, powdered and bandaged the feet of some dozen old and decrepit men and young children unaccustomed to such forced marching and unable to take proper care of themselves for want of time and hot water! At that moment I felt she was heroic and I must say I admired her patience and endurance, for the sights witnessed were anything but agreeable. Poor souls! And they hoped to reach Marseilles on foot.
The Kaiser and his entire army might have ridden over us rough shod and we would have felt nothing, so soundly did we sleep for the first couple of hours after we touched our beds. By two A. M. (September first), however, there was much moving about in the barns and stables, and my dogs, who were restless, began scratching at my door to be released. Anxious that no one leave without a cup of hot coffee, Madame Guix and I repaired to the kitchen as dawn broke, and an hour later we bade farewell to our "lodgers for a night." I bethought me of my kodak, and as the sun peeped through the clouds I caught a snapshot of my departing guests as they turned the corner of the chateau.
They joined in behind the stream of other carts which we were now accustomed to seeing. In fact, this general exodus no longer astonished us. It seemed as if the panic had spread over the whole of Flanders like a drop of oil on a sheet of paper. To us, who consider ourselves as living in the suburbs of Paris, Belgium is so far away!
I wound off my film and was returning towards the house, when two very distinguished looking girls stepped off their bicycles and asked for directions. I gave them with pleasure and in turn ventured a few questions.
They were from St. Quentin! That startled me. They had been en route two days. They had not seen the Germans, but the town had been officially evacuated. A man on a bicycle had sped by them the day before and announced the bombardment and destruction of their native city! Hard fighting at La Fere.
St. Quentin! Then the Germans were on our soil! The Belgians were right—they were evidently advancing rapidly. But why worry? We were safe as long as we had the French army between us and them.