It was very amusing that first picnic breakfast, and my! what appetites we had. The summer lodgers in one of the cottages gazed upon us in amazement—all save one little girl who, so it seems, had had a presentiment that some ill would befall her and for two days had not ceased weeping.
The meal over, each one went to my cart and taking possession of a blanket and pillow, rolled up in it and went fast asleep in the brilliant sunshine. How we blessed those warm, penetrating rays, for we had suffered much from the damp cold all night.
Left alone, I overhauled my wagon and made the discovery that my jewel box was missing. That did not alarm me much, for I was confident that I had left it on the refectory table, and would find it—like my silver chests—just where I had left them.
My road map showed us to be at La Tretoire, midway between Charly and Rebais, but as there were no provisions to be had in so small a place, I decided to push on to the township where we might be able to get lodgings. This, however, must be done before noon, or we would be obliged to sleep out of doors again, for it would be impossible to travel through the heat of the day. Accordingly, at half past eight, I roused the boys and we started up the hill, bag and baggage.
It was much the same kind of scene as at Pavant, only we were less excited and far more exhausted than at the outset of our trip. Each one stalked on, gritting his teeth and wiping the big beads of perspiration from his brow. By ten we reached the top and calling George, who had been walking beside the leader since we left home, I told him to take my place in the charette and I would mount my bicycle.
Leaving orders to follow the straight road to Rebais, I pushed on ahead, promising to do my best, and an hour later found myself on the outskirts of the little town—very weary and almost overcome by the heat. In the hurry of my departure from Villiers I had wrapped a scarlet chiffon scarf about my head, never thinking that a hat would be a very useful article in the daytime. For sixty minutes, then, as I had pedaled along that endless road, the sun had beaten down upon my head and shoulders, and when I came upon a public pump, I dropped down in the grass beside it, after wringing out my handkerchief in its refreshing water and bathing my burning face and arms.
When I finally made my entrance into Rebais, I found that thousands of other persons had probably had the same idea as I and it took but little time to discover that all rooms, whether private or public, were occupied. The place was overflowing with refugees. The line outside the baker's shop warned me that I had a dozen hungry mouths dependent upon me and yesterday's supply of bread was well nigh exhausted, let alone being stale. I took my place among the others and stood for a good hour waiting for the second ovenful to finish baking.
Certainly no greasy pig at a county fair was ever more difficult to manage than that long nine-pound loaf of red hot bread. There was no way of handling it—it burned everything it touched. No sooner did I put it under one arm than I was obliged to change it to the other post haste. Add to this the fact that I had not ridden a bicycle since a child, and realize that whether walking or riding the bread was equally hot and equally cumbersome. It was too long to fit into the handlebars, besides how could I hold it there? Too soft to be tied with string that I might buy. At one moment I thought seriously of picking up my skirt and carrying the bread as peasant women do grass and fodder, but alas, a 1914 skirt was too narrow to permit this. At length when almost disheartened and I had stood my loaf against the side of a house to cool, I recognized a familiar voice back of me, and George appeared on his wheel to announce that my party had camped in a young orchard two miles outside of Rebais, neither man nor beast being capable of going any farther. We clapped our loaf into an overcoat that was strapped to the back of his machine, and swinging it between us, soon joined the others.
Our noonday repast was composed of cold bam and fried potatoes. I think I never ate better, though I must confess that the latter were stolen from a neighboring field. By two o'clock a dozen weary inhabitants of Villiers were stretched out on their rugs and peacefully dreaming! We had decided to rest before determining what to do for the night.
I was awakened by a stiff feeling in my neck, and opened my eyes to find that the sun was rapidly disappearing in the west. I had slept soundly four hours and was much refreshed, though the bumps in the ground had bruised me, and I could hardly move my head.