It seems strange to see a sentry-box stationed at the entrance of the park and a sentinel pacing to and fro. Henry gave the password, and we walked up the avenue toward the château. I will not weary you by trying to depict my feelings, but will leave you to imagine what they must have been. I looked in vain for the beautiful Lebanon cedar which, you remember, stood where my nightingale used to sing, on the broad lawn. Henry said that it had been the first tree that the Germans had cut down, and it had been lying there on the lawn just as it fell, where the soldiers could conveniently cut their fuel. Henry called my attention to a white flag flying on the chateau, which, at Paul's request, Count Bismarck had ordered to be put there.
Henry said it signified in military language that only staff officers were to occupy the château, and that no unnecessary damage should be done "if we are quiet." Did Bismarck think we were likely to be unruly and go about shooting people? The one thing in the world we wanted was to be quiet. The flag also signified that the château should be protected. Henry had once complained to Bismarck of the damage done by the German soldiers at Petit Val, and Bismarck had replied, "À la guerre comme à la guerre," adding, "The German Government will hold itself responsible for private losses, with the exception of those which are consequences of a state of war … there is always a certain amount of unavoidable destruction."
"Unavoidable destruction!" cried Henry; "this can cover a multitude of sins."
"The exigencies of war, if you like that better," rejoined Bismarck.
Paul Hatzfeldt wrote to Helen last September that the King of Prussia had promised to put Petit Val under special protection. He even wished to go there himself; but Paul thought Petit Val looked so spoiled that he was glad the King did not go. If it was spoiled in September last, imagine what it must have been six months later, with six months of soldiers to spoil it!
When we arrived at the château itself the officers, who had evidently just been lunching, came out to meet us, wondering, apparently, who this courageous lady (poor trembling me!) could possibly be. Henry knew their names, and presented them all to me; they clanked their heels together and made the most perfect of military salutes.
The commanding officer in charge of Petit Val is Count Arco, a major of a Bavarian regiment. I hastened to explain my presence among them, saying that I wished to collect the various things I had left in the château when I went away last August, and I had taken advantage of the first occasion which offered itself of coming here.
Count Arco held a short conversation with Henry, who told him I would like to go to my apartment. "Do not trouble to have anything disarranged for me," I said, "as I shall only be here for a short time. My mother-in-law is driving out later in the afternoon to take me back to Paris."
While we were talking Count Arco informed me that there were twenty six officers in the château itself and one hundred and twenty soldiers quartered round in the different pavilions, farm-houses, ateliers, and —I think he said—about fifty in the orangerie.
Presently an orderly appeared and conducted me to my rooms, which had evidently been hurriedly evacuated, but they looked quite nice and clean. I was agreeably surprised to find my writing-desk and commodes pretty nearly as I remembered to have left them. At any rate, letters, trinkets, and so forth seemed undisturbed. I wish I could say the same for my wearing apparel, which had considerably diminished since my departure. Waists without their skirts, and skirts without their waists, and I found various female articles unknown to me; but never mind! Honi soit qui mal y pense!