I was at last about to arrive at my goal and was in a state of wild excitement at the idea of seeing, once more, all my beloved ones. My eyes, which had grown larger with anxiety, traveled more rapidly than the train. I fumed each time it stopped, and envied the birds I saw flying along. I laughed with delight as I thought of the surprised faces of those I was going to see again, and then I began to tremble with anxiety. What had happened to them? and should I find them all? I should if ... ah, those “ifs,” those “becauses,” and those “buts”! My mind became full of them, they bristled with illnesses, and accidents, and I began to weep. My poor little traveling companion began to weep, too.
Finally, we came within sight of Hombourg. Twenty more minutes of this turning of wheels and we entered the station. But just as though all the spirites and devils from the infernal regions had concerted to torture my patience, we stopped short. All heads were out of the windows. “What is it?” “What’s the matter?” “Why are we not going on?” There was a train in front of us at a standstill, with a broken brake, and the line had to be cleared. I fell back on my seat, clenching my teeth and hands and looking up in the air to distinguish the evil spirits which were so bent on tormenting me, and then I resolutely closed my eyes. I muttered some invectives against the invisible sprites, and declared that as I would not suffer any more, I was now going to rest. I then fell fast asleep, for the power of sleeping when I wish is a precious gift which God has bestowed on me. In the most frightful circumstances and the most cruel moments of life, when I have felt that my reason was giving way under shocks that have been too great or too painful, my will has laid hold of my reason, just as one holds a bad-tempered little dog that wants to bite, and subjugating it, my will has said to my reason: “Enough, you can take up again to-morrow your suffering and your plans, your anxiety, your sorrow and your anguish. You have had enough for to-day. You would give way altogether under the weight of so many troubles, and you would drag me along with you. I will not have it! We will forget everything for a while and go to sleep together!” And I have gone to sleep. This is absolutely true.
Mlle. Soubise roused me as soon as the train had really arrived. I was refreshed and calmer. A minute later we were in a carriage, and had given the address: 7 Obere Strasse.
We were soon there, and I found all my adored ones, big and little, and they were all very well. Oh, what happiness it was! The blood pulsed in all my arteries. I had suffered so much that I burst out into delicious sobs.
Who can ever describe the infinite pleasure of tears of joy! During the next two days the maddest things occurred, which I will not relate, so incredible would they sound. Among others, fire broke out in the house; we had to escape in our night clothes, camp out for six hours in five feet of snow, etc., etc., but everyone was safe and sound.
We then set out for Paris, but on arriving at St. Denis there were no more trains. It was four o’clock in the morning. The Germans were masters of all the suburbs of Paris and the trains ran only for their service. After an hour spent in running about, in discussions and rebuffs, I found an officer of higher rank, who was better educated and more agreeable. He had a locomotive prepared to take me to the Gare du Hâvre.
The journey was very amusing. My mother, my aunt, my sister Régina, Mlle. Soubise, the two maids, the children, and I all squeezed into a little square space, in which there was a very small, narrow bench, which I think was the place for the signalman in those days. The engine went very slowly, as the rails were frequently obstructed by carts or railway carriages.
We left at five in the morning and reached the Gare du Hâvre at seven. At a place which I cannot locate, our German conductors were exchanged for French. I questioned them and learned that Paris was just then disturbed by revolutionary movements.
The stoker with whom I was talking was a very intelligent and very advanced individual. “You would do better to go somewhere else, and not to Paris,” he said, “for before long they will come to blows there.”
We had arrived by this time, but at this hour, as no train was expected in, it was impossible to find a carriage. I got down with my tribe from the locomotive, to the great amazement of the station officials.