Domptin!

Domptin, our neighboring village, one mile up the road, had caught the fever and was moving out wholesale, transporting its ill and decrepit, its children and chattels, in heaven knows how many baby carriages!

I had never seen so many in all my life.  The effect was altogether comic, and Madame Guix and I could not resist laughing—­much to the dismay of these poor souls who saw little amusement at being obliged to leave home scantily clad in night clothes.

They passed on, without further comment, and the last man had hardly turned the corner when a scream coming from up the road drew us to our feet, and sent us running in that direction.  Almost instantly, the figure of an old white-capped peasant woman appeared in the distance.  She was wringing her hands and crying aloud.  When we were within ear shot, I caught the word, “Uhlans!”

“Uhlans!  Where?”

“Dans le bois de la Mazure!” (A half-mile from Villiers.)

“How do you know?”

“Saw their helmets glittering in the moonlight!”

“What rot!  They’re Frenchmen—­dragoons.  You don’t know your own countrymen when you see them!  Did you approach them?”

“No.”

“Then what in the name of common sense sent you flying down here to scare us like that?  You’ve got no business spreading panic broadcast.  If you don’t turn around and scamper home, the way you came, I’ll have you arrested. Allez!”

My nerves had stood the strain as long as possible.  This false alarm had roused my anger and in a jiffy I could see how thousands of people had been deceived, and were now erring homeless along the roads of France!

“You can do what you like,” I said, turning to the others, “but I’ve had enough of this for one day—­I’m going to bed.  Good-night, gentlemen.”

“The chatelaine is going to bed, the chatelaine is going to bed!” “Let all go to bed,” and similar phrases were echoed among the groups and presently we all separated, after many cordial a demain.

The clock in the village church was striking midnight when I finally retired, after calling my greyhounds and Betsy into my room, and assuring myself that they all had on their collars, and that their leashes were hanging on my bed post.

Nini, the little traitor, had evidently told Yvonne of my preparations for departure, and the two girls, whose beds were in the next room to mine, had been unable to close their eyes, for as I blew out my lamp, I could hear their childish voices repeating the rosary: 

“Hail Mary full of Grace—­the Lord is with Thee...”

* * * * *

I may have slept an hour.  Then I can dimly remember hearing a wild yelp from my dogs, and when I found myself in the middle of my room rubbing my eyes, Yvonne was calling, “Madame!  Madame!” in terrified tones.  My pets were mad with excitement, and the sound of the farm bell was ringing in my ears!