While we were waiting at the former Crown Prince's house, the owner turned up after an absence of four years and three months. I wish I could describe the scene. She was a plump little woman of fifty-five or more. Two men friends drove her out from somewhere. We were standing in the door when she descended from the old trap. She came in through the mud and announced in a cheery voice that this was her old home. There was a little tremor in her voice when she turned and said: "There was the salle-à-manger, but gentlemen, as you see, it is all no more. We left it at two a. m. September 2nd, 1914, and with it everything in my life departed." Still the voice was cheery. "My husband, son-in-law and two sons have been killed. My grandfather, who was buried over there (pointing) has been turned out of his grave." She then looked around a few minutes, gazing in a wistful way, then walked out the front door, turned and looked back at the mass of wreckage. Her lips trembled, she covered her mouth with her hand, and we heard a few soft sobs. Then she quietly turned, pulled up her skirts and tramped out into the muddy road.
Cressy à Varennes. We passed through there on the way back. Like the other neighboring towns it only exists in name. The same utter desolation, shell holes, tin cans, wire, guns, shells, fog and rain. Nothing can ever picture the dreary awfulness of it all. It looked as if the sun had faded and we were at the end of the world, stepping into the Infinite.
Back to Toul at seven and it was good to see a few lights burning in the homes.
December 13th. Raining hard all day, but very warm and balmy. Cornelia Landon and Rose Saltonstall of Boston are at our mess for a few days. I asked Colonel Thornburgh to invite them, as they were billeted here and sick. The Madame told me there were two sick Americans down there, and I was much surprised to see little Landon. Saltonstall is very bright and attractive. We don't see much of them, for they only show up for lunch, playing in the evening.
It seems strange to be sitting December 13th with your window open, enjoying the efforts of the moon to work through the clouds.
December 15th. Went to Neufchâteau on the excuse of seeing Thayer, who was not there. A beautiful sunny day. Met Tommy Robertson at the Officers' Club and had a fairly good representation of a real cocktail.
Landon and Saltonstall left this morning. I did not see them again, but they left two nice little good-by letters.
December 20th. A bit colder. There was a flurry of snow yesterday, but still, with the exception of a few days in October, there has been no cold weather.
Took my daily walk up to the railroad track. Found the life of P. T. Barnum among some old books and read hard for two hours.