The train stopped in London at a station before Charing Cross, and one of the English journalists rushed in and said: "Madame, I know there are scores of photographers and newspaper people awaiting you at Charing Cross. Believe me, you had better step out here." It was true, and it was kind, but, alas, before Dr. Mignon and I—we were both rather numb and bewildered—could follow this good advice, the train started again.
I had hardly set my foot on the platform at Charing Cross when flashlight explosions resounded all around me and some forty journalists pressed eagerly, violently even, about me. Some spoke French—they were the London correspondents of Parisian newspapers; others spoke English or in broken French. I pushed Dr. Mignon into a cab and jumped in after him. Motor-cars followed us. I said to the driver: "Hotel... Find!...."
It was now about 6 A.M. We tried to get rooms at one hotel but were turned away on account of the journalists. We tried another, were again refused; then yet another. The journalists still followed. Desperate, I walked up to them and begged for pity.
I snatched two hours rest and then I had to leave the hotel. The manager was courteous and generously allowed Dr. Mignon and me one hour more, and said he would help us to hoodwink the Press. A friend of my counsel, an English solicitor, was summoned to my assistance by telephone. He came and I left with him whilst the Doctor made his exit by another door after making an appointment. Alas, we were seen and followed, and it was by sheer luck, owing to a block in the traffic, that I was able to elude my pursuers.
What a day! We drove and then walked. Rain poured down. It was dark when at last Dr. Mignon found us.
We walked through narrow, ill-lit streets and reached a small boarding-house kept by a German, where I was well received. I was tired, dispirited, ill. Our luggage had been left at the station. I dined with Dr. Mignon at the D.'s, where, after spending two nights at the German boarding-house, I stayed for a few weeks until I found a small house for myself.
Three or four days after my arrival in London and when I had somewhat recovered from so many successive shocks, Dr. Mignon returned to France.
My life in England can be briefly described. I found a few trusty English friends who were not aware of my identity at first, but who, when I disclosed it, became only the more devoted. I found the rest and the peace of mind I so sorely needed.... I made my little home as beautiful as I could, and found in music, in reading, and in long walks about the country the relaxation and consolation without which I could not have lived. I have learned to love England and the English. Perhaps as regards conversation, enthusiasm, imagination and artistic inclination I have found my few English friends—both men and women—somewhat different from the people who flocked to my Parisian salon. But I have found them far superior in other and more important qualities. They are perhaps less unconventional, less brilliant and witty, but they are more reliable and trustworthy; less versatile and assimilative, but more genuine, earnest and steady.
Towards the end of December, the furniture at the Impasse Ronsin was sold, at my request, after I had ordered part of it to be sent to England. I had before written to my daughter offering her to keep everything she desired. The letter, however, was never shown to her, and, later on, I discovered why. As a matter of fact, not a single one of the numerous letters I sent to my child was ever handed to her.
Certain newspapers seized the opportunity of that sale to attack me once more as "an ignoble mother, ruining her child." When I saw, however, the list of the few things that had been sold, I thought that Marthe must have kept a great many things, and felt somewhat relieved. At the same time, I received from the person who represented me in Paris at the sale, a note: "Please hand back to Mme. Steinheil the enclosed letter, which no doubt comes from her. I shall likewise return anything she may send me, as I wish to have nothing to do with her. Signed: Chabrier."