The Happy Foreigner Part 6

"Yes, every one. Mother says so."

The girl went away, then brought her a jug of hot water.

"I hope," said f.a.n.n.y, venturing upon a sea of forgotten German, "I hope I haven't turned you or your sister out of this room."

"This is the strangers' room," said Elsa. "I thank you."

When she had gone, f.a.n.n.y looked round the room. It was too German to be true. The walls were dark red, the curtains dark red, the carpet, eiderdown, rep cover of the armchair, plush on the photograph frames, embroidered mats upon the washstand, tiles upon the stove, everything a deep, dark red. Four mugs stood upon the mantelpiece, and ... she rubbed her eyes ... was it possible that one had an iron cross upon its porcelain, one the legend "Got mit uns," the third the head of the Kaiser, the fourth the head of the Kaiserin? "That is too much! The people I shall write to won't believe it!"

Her bed was overhung by a large branch of stag's horn fixed upon the wall.

She felt the bed, counted the blankets, found matches on the mantelpiece, a candle in the candlestick, room in the stove to boil a kettle or a saucepan. Hot water steamed from her jug, a hot brick had been placed to warm her bed, a plate of rye bread cut in slices and covered with a cloth was upon the table.

Foreign to her own, the eyes which had rejoiced in this room ... yet the smile of German comfort was upon it.

She lay down beneath the branching antlers, and smiled before she went to sleep: "One pair of silk stockings ... to dance in Babylon ..."

In the morning a thin woman dressed in black brought her breakfast--jam, rye bread, coffee and sugar.

"Guten Morgen," said the woman, and looked at her curiously. But f.a.n.n.y couldn't remember which language she ought to talk, and fumbled in her head so long that the woman went away.

She dressed and went out, meeting Stewart by her doorway. Together they crossed the bridge, the theatre square, and went towards the Cathedral with eager faces. They did not look up at the Cathedral, at the statute of old David upon which the Kaiser had had his own head carved, and upon whose crossed hands the people had now hung chains fastened with a padlock--they did not glance at the Hotel de Ville in the square beyond, but, avoiding the tram which emerged from the narrow Serpenoise like a monster that had too long been oppressed, they hurried on up the street with a subdued and hungry gaiety.

There was a Need to be satisfied before anything could be seen, done, or said. A Need four years old, now knocking at the doors of heaven, howling to be satisfied.

Before the windows of a shop they paused, but Stewart, standing back and looking up the street, said: "There is a better further on!" and when they had gone on a few paces f.a.n.n.y whispered, hurrying, "A better still beyond!" At the third shop, the Need, imperative, royal, would wait no longer, and drove them within.

"How many?" asked the saleswoman at the end of ten minutes.

"Seven _eclairs_ and a cream bun, said Stewart.

"Just nine _eclairs_," said f.a.n.n.y.

"Seventeen francs," said the woman without moving an eyelash.

This frenzy cooled, their pockets lighter, they walked for pleasure in the town. The narrow streets streamed with people--French soldiers and officers, Lorraine women in the costumes of pageantry, and German children who cried shrilly: "Amerikanerin, Amerikanerin!"

An English major pa.s.sed them. They recognised his flawless boots before they realised his nationality. And, following his, the worst boots in the world--worn by a couple of sauntering Italian officers, gay in olive and silver uniform. German men in black slouch hats hurried along the streets.

It had been arranged that they should eat their meals in a room overlooking the ca.n.a.l, at the foot of the Cathedral--and there at eleven o'clock they went, to be a little dashed in spirit by the reappearance of the Bar-le-Duc crockery.

The same yellow dish carried what seemed the same rationed jam; the square blocks of meat might have been cooked in the Bar cook-hut, and brought with them over the desert; two heavy loaves stood as usual on the wooden table. The French Army ration was the same in every town.

"Mesdames," said the orderly a.s.signed to them, "there are two sous-officers without who wish to speak with you."

"Let them come in."

Two blue figures appeared in the doorway and saluted. The first brought a card of invitation from the Commandant Dormans. The second was the brigadier from the garage with a list of the cars a.s.signed to the drivers.

"Perhaps these ladies would come down and try their cars after lunch?"

he suggested, and lunch being over they walked with him through the winding streets. At the gates of a great yard he paused and a sentry swung them open. Behind the gates lay a sandy plain as large as a parade ground, which, except for gulleys or gangways crossing it at intervals, was packed from end to end with row after row of cars; cars in the worst possible condition, torn, twisted, wheelless, cars with less dramatic and yet fatal injuries; some squatting backwards upon their haunches, some inclined forwards upon their knees--one, lately fished up from a river, had slabs and crusts of ice still upon its seats--one, the last dragged in at the tail of a breakdown lorry, hung, fore-wheels in the air, helpless upon a crane. Here, in the yard, was nothing but broken iron and mouldering carriage work--the cemetery of the Transport of the Grand Quartier.

Lining all one side of the yard ran a shed, closed and warmed and lighted, where living cars slept in long rows mudguard to mudguard, and bright lamps facing outward.

As the Englishwomen walked in a soft rustle could be heard up and down the lighted shed, for each half-hidden driver working by his car turned and shot a glance, expectant and mocking, towards the door.

"Ben quoi, i'parait qu'c'esst vrai! Tu vois!"

"Qu'est-ce qu'il dit, c'ui-la?"

"C'est les Anglaises, pardi!"

"Tu comprends, j'suis contre tout ca. I'y a des fois ou les femmes c'est bien. Mais ici ..."

"Tu grognes? On va r'devenir homme, c'est tres bien!"

"C'est idiot! Qu'est-ce qu'elles vont faire ici!"

"On dirait--c'est du militarisme francais!"

"Le militarisme francais j'm'en f----! Tu verra, cela va faire encore du travail pour nous."

"Attends un peu!"... And murmurs filled the shed--glances threaded the shadows, chilling the spirit of the foreign women adventuring upon the threshold.

"Four Rochets," said the _brigadier_, consulting his paper, "two Delages, two FIATS ... Mademoiselle, here is yours, and yours. The Lieutenant Denis will be here in a moment. He fears the Rochets will be too heavy for you, but we must see."

The lieutenant who had been at dinner the night before entered the shed, greeted them, and turned to Stewart. "That car is too heavy for your strength, mademoiselle. It is not a car for a lady."

"I like the make," she said stiffly, conscious of the ears which listened in the shed.

"See if you can start her now, mademoiselle," said the _brigadier_, arranging the levers.

There was a still hush in the shed as Stewart bent to the handle. f.a.n.n.y, standing by the Rochet which had been a.s.signed to her, felt her heart thumping.

("Tu vas voir!" whispered the little soldiers watching brightly from behind the cars. "Attends, attends un peu! Pour les mettre en marche, les tacots, c'est autre chose!")

Stewart, seizing the handle, could not turn it. In the false night of the shed the lights shone on polished lamps, on gla.s.s and bra.s.s, on French eyes which said: "That's what comes of it!"--which were ready to say--"March out again, Englishwomen, ridiculous and eager and defeated!"

f.a.n.n.y, looking neither to right nor left, prayed under her breath --"Stewart, Stewart we can never live in this shed if you can't start her. And if you can't, n.o.body else can...."

There was a spurt of life from the engine as it back-fired, and Stewart sprang away holding her wrist with the other hand. The lieutenant, the brigadier, and a driver from a car near by crowded round her with exclamations.

"You advanced the spark too much," said the driver to the _brigadier_.

"_Tenez_! I will r.e.t.a.r.d it."

"She shan't touch the car again." said the lieutenant. "It is too heavy."