My mother’s brother had married a Mlle. Laroque of Bordeaux, so that we were able to talk of our family. Altogether the journey did not seem very long, in spite of the heat, the overcrowding, and our thirst.
The arrival in Paris was more gloomy. We shook hands warmly with each other. The stout lady’s husband was awaiting her with a telegram in his hand. The unfortunate woman read it, and then, uttering a cry, burst into sobs and fell into his arms. I gazed at her, wandering what sorrow had come upon her. Poor woman, I could no longer see anything ridiculous about her! I felt a pang of remorse at the thought that we had been laughing at her so much, when misfortune had already singled her out.
On reaching home I sent word to my mother that I should be with her sometime during the day. She came at once, as she wanted to know how my health was. We then arranged about the departure of the whole family, with the exception of myself, as I wanted to stay in Paris during the siege. My mother, my little boy, and his nurse, my sisters, my Aunt Annette, who kept house for me, and my mother’s maid, were all ready to start two days later. I had taken rooms at Frascati’s, at Hâvre, for the whole tribe. But the desire to leave Paris was one thing, and the possibility of doing so, another. The stations were invaded by families like mine, who thought it more prudent to emigrate. I sent my manservant to engage a compartment, and he came back three hours later with his clothes torn, after receiving various kicks and blows.
“Madame cannot go into that crowd,” he assured me. “It is quite impossible. I should not be able to protect her. And then, too, madame will not be alone; there is madame’s mother, the other ladies, and the children. It is really quite impossible.”
I sent at once for three of my friends, explained my difficulty, and asked them to accompany me. I told my butler to be ready, as well as my other manservant, and my mother’s footman. He, in his turn, invited his younger brother, who was a priest and who was very willing to go with us. We all set off in a railway omnibus. There were seventeen of us in all, and only nine who were really traveling. Our eight protectors were not too many, for they were not human beings who were taking tickets, but wild beasts, haunted by fear, and spurred on by a desire to escape. These brutes saw nothing but the little ticket office, the door leading to the train, and then the train which would insure their escape. The presence of the young priest was a great help to us, for his religious character made people refrain sometimes from blows.
When once all my people were installed in the compartment which had been reserved for them, they waved their farewells, threw kisses, and the train started. A shudder of terror then ran through me, for I suddenly felt so absolutely alone. It was the first time I had been separated from the little child who was dearer to me than the whole world.
Two arms were then thrown affectionately round me, and a voice murmured: “My dear Sarah, why did you not go, too? You are so delicate. Will you be able to bear the solitude without the dear child?”
It was Mme. Guérard, who had arrived too late to kiss the boy, but was there now to comfort the mother. I gave way to my despair, regretting that I had sent him away. And yet, as I said to myself, there might be fighting in Paris! The idea never for an instant occurred to me that I might have gone away with him. I thought that I might be of some use in Paris. Of some use, but in what way? This I did not know. The idea seemed stupid, but nevertheless that was my idea. It seemed to me that everyone who was well ought to stay in Paris. In spite of my weakness I felt that I was well, and with reason, as I proved later on. I therefore stayed, not knowing at all what I was going to do.
CHAPTER XI
I ESTABLISH MY WAR HOSPITAL
