The Girl Philippa
Eila came out with Sister Felicite, nodding to Warner that she was ready
to leave. And, at the same instant, two horsemen in grey uniforms rode
around the corner of the school, pistols lifted, lances without pennons
slanting backward from their armslings.
Asticot, paralyzed, gaped at them; Warner, as shocked as he, stood
motionless as four more Uhlans came trotting up and coolly drew bridle
before the school.
Already three of the Uhlans had dismounted, stacked lances, abandoning
their bridles to the three who remained on their horses.
As they came striding across the road toward the school, spurs and
carbines clinking and rattling, a child in the schoolroom caught sight
of them and screamed.
Instantly the room was filled with the terrified cries of little girls:
Sister Eila and Sister Felicite, pale but calm, backed slowly away
before the advancing Uhlans, their arms outstretched in protection in
front of the shrieking, huddling herd of children. Behind them the
terrified little girls crouched under desks, hid behind the stove, or
knelt clinging hysterically to the grey-blue habits of the Sisters, who
continued to interpose themselves between the Uhlans and their
panic-stricken pupils.
The Uhlans glanced contemptuously at Asticot as they mounted the door
steps, looked more closely at Warner; then one of them walked, clanking,
into the schoolroom, lifting his gloved hand to his helmet in salute.
Sister Felicite tried vainly to quiet the screaming children; Sister
Eila, her head high, confronted the Uhlans, both arms extended.
"Stop where you are!" she said coolly. "What do you wish, gentlemen?
Don't you see that you are frightening our children? If you desire to
speak to us we will go outside."
An Uhlan clumsily tried to reassure and make friends with a little girl
who had hidden herself behind the stove. She fled from him, sobbing,
and threw herself on her knees behind Sister Eila, hanging to her
skirts.
"Pas mechant," repeated the big cavalryman, with a good-natured grin;
"moi, pere de famille! Beaucoup enfants a moi. Pas peur de moi. Vous
est bon Francais."
Another Uhlan pointed inquiringly at Warner, who had placed himself
beside Sister Felicite.
"_Anglais?_" he demanded.
"American," said Sister Eila calmly.
"Oh," he exclaimed with a wry grin. "Americans are our friends.
Frenchmen have our respect. We salute them as brave enemies. But not
the English! Therefore, do not be afraid. We Germans mean no harm to
peaceful people. You shall see; we are not barbarians! Tell your
children we are not ogres."
He stood tall and erect in his grey, close-fitting uniform, looking
curiously about him. The plastron of the tunic, or _ulanka_, was piped
with yellow, and bore the _galons_ and the heraldic buttons of a
_Feldwebel_. The shoulder strap bore the number 3; the boots and belt
were of tan-colored leather; all metal work was mat-silver; spurs,
saber, were oxidized; and the oddly shaped helmet, surmounted by the
mortar board, was covered with a brown holland slip bearing the
regimental number.
The children had become deathly silent, staring with wide and frightened
eyes upon these tall intruders; the Sisters of Charity stood motionless,
calm, level-eyed; Warner, wondering why the Uhlans had entered the
school, had drawn Sister Eila's arm through his, and remained beside her
watching the Germans with undisturbed curiosity and professional
interest. Afterward his well-known picture of the incident was bought
by the French Government.
The _Wachtmeister_ in charge of the peloton turned to him with a sort of
insolent civility.
"Wie viel Kilometer ist es bis Ausone?" he inquired.
Warner made no reply.
"Wie heisst dieser Ort?" The Wachtmeister had raised his voice
insolently.
"Sais," replied Warner carelessly.
"Sind hier deutsche Truppen durchmarschiert?"
Warner remained silent.
"Sind deutsche Truppen im Walde?"
"There is no use asking an American for information," said Warner
bluntly. "You'll get none from me."
Instantly the man's face changed.
"So! Eh, bien! Qui cherche a s'esquiver sera fusille!" he said in
excellent French. "Unlock every door in the house. If there are any
dogs tie them up. If they bark, you will be held responsible. Don't
move! Keep those children where they are until we have finished!"
He nodded to a trooper behind him. The Uhlan instantly drew a short
hammer and a cold chisel from his pouch, knelt down, and with incredible
rapidity ripped up a plank from the hardwood floor, laying bare to view
the solid concrete underneath.
"Sound it!"
The trooper sounded the concrete with the heavy butt of his chisel.
"All right!" The non-com touched his schapska in salute to the Sisters
of Charity. "Take your children away before noon. We need this place.
German troops will occupy it in half an hour." Then he swung around and
shot an ugly glance at Warner.
"If you are as neutral as you pretend to be, see that you are equally
reticent toward the French when we let you go.... You may be American,
but you behave like an Englishman. You annoy me; do you understand?"
Warner shrugged his shoulders.
"What do you mean by that gesture of disrespect?" demanded the Uhlan
sharply.
"I mean that you ask improper questions and you know it!"
"I ask what I choose to ask!" he said angrily. "I think I shall take
you with us, anyway, and not leave you here!"
"You'll only get into trouble with my Government and your own----"
"Take that man!" shouted the Uhlan in a passion. "I'll find out what he
is----"
A shot rang loudly from the road outside; the Uhlans turned in
astonishment, then ran for the door where their comrades flung them
their bridles. They seized their lances and scrambled into their
saddles, still disconcerted and apparently incredulous of any serious
danger to themselves. Then another Uhlan who had cantered off down the
road suddenly fired from his saddle; the others, bending forward,
scanned the road intently for a moment; then the whole peloton swung
their horses, spurred over the ditch and up the grassy bank, trotted in
single file through the hedge gate, and, putting their horses to a
gallop, headed straight across the meadow toward the river and the
quarry bridge beyond.
They had reached the river willows and were already galloping through
them when, far away toward the south end of the meadow, a horseman
trotted into view, drew bridle, fired at the Uhlans, then launched his
horse into a dead run toward them, disengaging his lance from which a
pennon flew gayly.
After him, bending forward in their saddles, came two score riders in
pale blue jackets, lances advanced, urging their wiry horses, spurring
hard to intercept the Uhlans.
But the Germans, who had gained the bridge, were now galloping over it,
and they disappeared amid a distant racket of shots.
To the spectators at the school door, it all looked like a pretty,
harmless, unreal scene artistically composed and arranged for
moving-picture purposes; the wide, flat green meadow was now swarming
with the pale blue and white laced dolmans of French hussar lancers.
Everywhere they were galloping, trotting, maneuvering; a section of a
light battery appeared, drew rapidly nearer, went plunging across the
meadow hub-deep in wild flowers, swung the guns and dropped them at the
bridge, making the demi-tour at a gallop.
Back came the caissons, still at a gallop; the dark, distant figures of
the cannoniers moved rapidly for a moment around each gun; a tiny figure
held up one arm, dropped it; crack! echoed the report of the
field-piece; up went the arm, down it jerked; crack! went the other.
From a front room overhead Warner and Sister Eila were leaning out and
watching the lively spectacle along the river.
"It looks to me," he said, "as though the Germans were in the cement
works.... By George! They are! The yards and quarries are alive with
their cavalry! Look! Did you see that shell hit the stone crusher?
There goes another. The big chimney on the Esser Works is
falling--look!--down it comes! Our gunners have knocked it into dust!"
Another section of artillery came plunging into view across the meadows,
the drivers spurring and lashing, the powerful horses bounding forward,
and the guns jumping and bouncing over the uneven ground.
It was like a picture book--exactly what the layman expects of a
battle--a wide, unobstructed view over a flat green meadow, artillery at
a gallop with officers spurring ahead; brilliantly uniformed cavalry
arriving in ever-increasing squadrons, some dismounting and deploying,
others drawn up here and there under serried thickets of lances. But
there was no smoke, only a dusky, translucent haze clinging for a moment
to the gun muzzles; no enemy in sight save for a scrambling dot here and
there among the quarry hills where, from the cement works, a cloud of
dust rose and widened, veiling the trees and hillsides.
For a while the lively rattle of the fusillade continued, but in a few
minutes a six-gun battery arrived and went into ear-splitting action,
almost instantly extinguishing the German fire from the quarry. A few
more ragged volleys came, then only dropping shots from their carbines
as the hussars rode forward and broke into a gallop across the quarry
bridge.
More cavalry was arriving all the while, dragoons and
_chasseurs-a-cheval_, all riding leisurely toward the quarry. More
artillery was coming, too, clanking and bumping up the road, a great
jolting column of field batteries, not in a hurry, paying little
attention to the lively proceedings across the river, where the German
cavalry was retreating over the rolling country toward the eastern hills
and the blue hussars were riding after them.
The artillery passed the school and continued on toward Ausone. Behind
them came infantry with their swinging, slouchy stride, route step,
mildly interested in the doings of the cavalry in the meadow, more
interested in the Sisters of Charity leaning from the schoolhouse
windows and the excited children crowding at the open door.
Not very far beyond the school a regiment turned out into a stubble
field and stacked arms. Other regiments swung out east and west along
the Route de Sais, stacked arms, let go sacks, and went to work with
picks and spades.
More artillery rumbled by; then came some engineers and a pontoon train
which turned out toward the river opposite the school after the
engineers had opened a way through the hedge stile.
Sister Eila and Warner had returned from the upper story to stand on the
doorstep among the children.
"One thing is certain," he said in her ear; "Sister Felicite will have
to take the children away tonight. The infantry yonder are intrenching,
and all these wagons and material that are passing mean that the valley
is to be defended."
The young Sister nodded and whispered to Sister Felicite, who looked
very grave.
Some odd-looking, long, flat motor trucks were lumbering by; the freight
which they carried was carefully covered with brown canvas. Other
trucks were piled high with sections of corrugated iron, hollow steel
tubes, and bundles of matched boards and planking.
For these vehicles there was a dragoon escort.
"Aeroplanes and material for portable sheds," said Warner. "They intend
to erect hangars. There is going to be trouble in the valley of the
Recollette."
He turned and looked out and around him, and saw the valley already
alive with soldiers. Across the river on the quarry road they were also
moving now, cavalry and artillery; and, as far as he could follow
eastward with his eye, red-legged soldiers were continuing the lines of
trenches already begun on this side of the river.