And then he told me how but a few hours after I had left the Germans took possession of the chateau and how for five nights and days in a ceaseless stream the flower of the Prussian army had poured down the road towards the coveted capital.

At dawn on that eventful September morning an officer had ridden up to the town hall, called for the mayor or his representative, and on Monsieur Duguey’s appearance, had demanded so much fodder for the horses, so much champagne for the officers, and Charles Huard!

M. Duguey was taken hostage to respond to the first two demands and on having sworn on the cross that both my husband and I were absent, he was ordered to lead the way to our home, where for forty-eight hours he was detained as prisoner in the kitchen, while a staff of German noblemen raised riot in our home.

Taunted and insulted by the soldiers who mounted guard in the kitchen where a chef prepared the general’s food, he was bid hold his tongue and his temper by this same chef, who, for eleven years, had cooked at a well known hotel on the rue de Rivoli!  No wonder he spoke good French.

“Pauvre Madame! Perhaps you’ve come back too soon!  If we only knew they would not return!”

The cannon in the distance shook the house as though to corroborate his statement.

“Is there anyone left to help me clean place to sleep in?”

“I’ll go.  There are only one or two women who remained behind, but I presume sorry they did!  What a God-send you got away!”

I understood and was thankful.

Monsieur Duguey put his candle into lantern, shouldered a broom, and taking blanket, led the way towards the chateau.

Want of words to express our fears and distress sealed our lips as we picked our way into a filthy, can-strewn, bottle-littered courtyard, towards a wing of the chateau where I had chosen to sleep.

I hardly know what we plodded through the corridor.  My companion pushed things, into heaps in one corner of the room, and when I saw him sweep off a mattress and throw his blanket upon it, I realized that my bed was made.

“You are not afraid, Madame?”

“No.”

“Then a demain.  I will come and help you.  I fear, however, that I must leave you in darkness, for there are no matches in the village.  We have to borrow light for our fires, and our stock of candles is nearly gone.  They are only the butts the Germans left behind!”

Exhausted I fell asleep, to be awakened with a start towards dawn by the clatter of horses’ feet on the paved court beneath my window.

Cavalry?

I listened.

Yes, surely.  But what cavalry?  Ours?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I put my head out of the empty sash to behold a most pathetic sight.  There in the pouring rain stood some twenty shivering horses, once fine animals’ but now wounded and broken.  The lamentable little group, left-behinds of the invaders, was headed by my old gray donkey, who had gathered them together and was now leading them towards warmth and shelter.  This sympathy among animals moved me deeply, and I started down to see what I could do to alleviate their suffering.