Memories of My Life: Being My Personal, Professional, and Social Recollections as Woman and ArtistBernhardt, Sarah
General
Memories of My Life: Being My Personal, Professional, and Social Recollections as Woman and Artist
Bernhardt, Sarah
Actors -- Biography; Bernhardt, Sarah, 1844-1923; Women -- Biography
In the vehicle in which I drove to the station, the kind man had put a
basket of food. He also gave me a copy of the sonnet and a tracing of
his son’s photograph.
I left the desolate couple with the deepest emotion, and I kissed the
girl on taking our departure. Soubise and I did not exchange a word on
our journey to the station; we were both preoccupied with the same
distressing thoughts.
CHAPTER XIV
HOMBOURG AND RETURN
At the station we found that the Germans were masters there, too. I
asked for a first-class compartment to ourselves, or for a
_coupé_—whatever they liked, provided we were alone.
I could not make myself understood. I saw a man oiling the wheels of the
carriages, who looked to me like a Frenchman. I was not mistaken. He was
an old man, who had been kept on, partly out of charity and partly
because he knew every nook and corner, and being Alsatian, spoke German.
This good man took me to the booking office and explained my wish to
have a first-class compartment to myself. The man who had charge of the
ticket office burst out laughing. There was neither first nor second
class, he said; it was a German train, and I should have to travel like
everyone else. The wheel oiler turned purple with rage, which he quickly
suppressed. (He had to keep his place. His consumptive wife was nursing
their son, who had just been sent home from the hospital with his leg
cut off and the wound not yet healed up. There were so many in the
hospital....) All this he told me as he took me to the station master.
The latter spoke French very well, but he was not at all like the other
German officers I had met. He scarcely saluted me, and when I expressed
my desire he replied curtly:
“It is impossible. Two places shall be reserved for you in the officers’
carriage.”
“But that is what I want to avoid,” I exclaimed. “I do not want to
travel with German officers.”
“Well, then, you shall be put with German soldiers,” he growled angrily,
and putting on his hat, he went out, slamming the door.
I remained there, amazed and confused by his insolence. I turned so
pale, it appears, and the blue of my eyes became so clear, that Soubise,
who was acquainted with my fits of anger, was very much alarmed.
“Do be calm, madame, I implore,” she said. “We are two women alone among
these people. If they liked to harm us they could, and we must
accomplish the aim and object of our journey, we must see little Maurice
again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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