CHAPTER XIII
HEUREUX NOËL
Christmas weather, sunlight, moonlight and snow; our grove a white stencil; our baraques with their red shutters by day and their lighted windows by night, like painted Christmas cards; our defaced and ruined villages new-clothed with beauty,—such was our Christmas week. But the snow, so beautiful to the eye, accentuated the bitter cold of our ill-lodged and under-nourished neighbours, and the moon pointed out to hostile aeroplanes desired points of attack. It was on account of the dangerous moonlight that the Bishop of Amiens forbade midnight masses in the churches. We, and our villagers, were the more disappointed because even during the German occupation these masses had been sung. We heard of loaded Christmas trees, and of parties where cakes and chocolate were served by German officers. “Not for all the world, you understand,” Colombe, our informant, explained, “just for themselves.” Yet all the world had had some share in the German Christmas, and we felt eager to make up a little for the added hardships caused since that time by German cruelty, for all the ruined homesteads which are but the outward sign of families scattered, missing and dead.
Yet at first, so prevalent was the feeling of sadness, we thought it might not be desirable to have a fête. Did the villagers want one? Had the Christmas tree too many German associations? We made inquiry of M. le Sous-Préfet, and of the Commandant of the Third Army. From the latter came the following reply:
27.11.17. Guiscard
Dear Miss ——,
I am glad to tell you that you got a stupid gossiping about the Christmas tree.
There is nothing at all in this country against the charming practice to delight the children with a spruce of which some toys are hanging all round among as many candles as possible.
Therefore you are free to be nice for the poor people once more and God bless you for your splendid charity.
With my kindest regards for you, for your chief, and your sisters,