A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914Aldrich, Mildred
History
A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914
Aldrich, Mildred
Marne, 1st Battle of the, France, 1914; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
Finally he began to ask questions. "Was I afraid?" I was not. "Did I
live alone?" I did. As soon as I had said it, I thought it was stupid
of me, especially as he at once said,--"If you are, yer know, I'll come
back here to sleep to-night. I'm perfectly free to come and go as I
like,--don't have to report until I 'm ready."
I thought it wise to remind him right here that if his corps was at the
foot of the hill, it was wise for him to let his commanding officer know
that the Germans, for whom two regiments had been hunting for three
days, had come out of hiding. I fancy if I had not taken that tack he'd
have settled for the day.
"Put that thing on," I said, pointing to his pistol; "get your wheel out
of the barn, and I'll take a look up the road and see that it's clear.
I don't care to see you attacked under my eyes."
I knew that there was not the slightest danger of that, but it sounded
businesslike. I am afraid he found it so, because he said at once,
"Could you give me a drink before I go?"
"Water?" I said.
"No, not that."
I was going to say "no" when it occurred to me that Amelie had told me
that she had put a bottle of cider in the buffet, and--well, he was
Irish, and I wanted to get rid of him. So I said he could have a glass
of cider, and I got the bottle, and a small, deep champagne glass. He
uncorked the bottle, filled a brimming glass, recorked the bottle, drank
it off, and thanked me more earnestly than cider would have seemed to
warrant. While he got his wheel out I went through the form of making
sure the road was free. There was no one in sight. So I sent him away
with directions for reaching Couilly without going over the part of the
hill where the Uhlans had hidden, and drew a sigh of relief when he was
off. Hardly fifteen minutes later some one came running up from Voisins
to tell me that just round the corner he had slipped off his wheel,
almost unconscious,--evidently drunk. I was amazed. He had been
absolutely all right when he left me. As no one understood a word he
tried to say, there was nothing to do but go and rescue him. But by the
time I got to where he had fallen off his wheel, he was gone,--some one
had taken him away,--and it was not until later that I knew the truth
of the matter, but that must keep until I get to the way of the
discovery.
All this excitement kept me from listening too much to the cannon, which
had been booming ever since nine o'clock. Amelie had been busy running
between her house and mine, but she has, among other big qualities, the
blessed habit of taking no notice. I wish it were contagious. She went
about her work as if nothing were hanging over us. I walked about the
house doing little things aimlessly. I don't believe Amelie shirked a
thing. It seemed to me absurd to care whether the dusting were done or
not, whether or not the writing-table was in order, or the pictures
straight on the wall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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