1.
Here I am. It's me, your Bécassine, very happy to see you again after such a long time. How I've thought about you! It nearly made me crazy.
I'll tell you, just this morning in the street, I came across a pretty little girl who was out with her governess, and as she walked she was reading La Semaine de Suzette. I fell upon her and gave her two big kisses on the cheeks. She thought I was crazy, but it was just too much for me. It seemed as if I were embraced every one of my little Suzette friends.
But I'm blathering about unimportant things, and I have so many adventures to tell you!
You'll remember that at the end of my book, Bécassine in Time of War, I was in Alsace, accompanying my good mistress, Madame la Marquise de Grand-Air, at the wedding of her nephew Monsieur Bertrand to Mademoiselle de Valrose.
Two days after the wedding, the three of us returned to Paris (the third person was my uncle Corentin). Without bragging, I can say I travelled like a millionaire. For the first leg, Monsieur de Valrose drove us in his fine automobile to the station where the express trains pass. It was nearly fifty kilometres, and all the way were mountains, forests, and waterfalls. I was happy to be in the presence of such magnificence, but the fog was so thick I couldn't make anything out.
2.
At one place, where we climbed a hill on foot to warm ourselves up, it was necessary to pay attention and not become separated; otherwise you would get lost. At ten metres' distance, people were like shadows. Fog is remarkable stuff, especially in such picturesque surroundings.
At the station, Madame la Marquise said that it would depress her to travel alone, so she bought us first-class tickets. Uncle Corentin and I were filled with pride. We held up our tickets in plain sight, and we would have been pleased to be seen by anyone who knew us. But as we're from around Quimper we don't know many people in Alsace, it stands to reason. We bid our adieus to Monsieur de Valrose, who had a kind word for each of us. Ah! he's a nice man.
No sooner had the train departed but Madame la Marquise thought about how Uncle Corentin cannot do without his pipe, and as she is the soul of kindness, she told him, "You may smoke, Monsieur Corentin, at an open window: that would not bother me." But my uncle knows how to behave around ladies. He went to sit in the corridor, on a folding seat just ahead of our compartment.
My uncle is not just a smoker; he's also a great talker. Constantly, he would open the door, exhaling smoke, tell us three words, and then close the door quickly. He seemed to be trying to shield us from his smoke. Naturally, he didn't realize he was doing it, the dear man. I remarked on it, and he was very embarrassed. He turned red and offered his apologies to Madame. But she didn't want to hear any of that. He had amused her, and she had a good laugh!
3.
At one large station, I think it was Troyes, Madame sent me to the buffet to fetch her a brioche and some fruit. She said that that would do for her supper, but that my uncle and I should visit the dining car. I said no to be polite but, deep down, I did want to have a look at that restaurant on wheels. It meant following endless passageways where I just missed tumbling at every step, such were the treacherous sideways motions.
Dinner was under way when a little fellow, no bigger than three apples, who was serving the patrons, and carrying a platter of hors-d'oeuvres, collided with a table. The platter fell, and two dishes were smashed.
Now the head waiter rushed out. In a nasty tone, he told the poor boy that he would be sent back where he came from, and be made to pay for the damage. The little one cried and said that if he had to go back, his mother, who is a refugee and unwell, would die of hunger.
"Then," I said, "Sit in my place and eat my dinner. I'll do your job. That's something I know how to do." The big shot didn't like it, but the passengers, who were nearly all officers, shouted him down, and he didn't dare prevent it.
At the end of the meal, a lieutenant, whom I recognized to be a friend of Monsieur Bertrand, told me, "It's very good, Bécassine, what you have done. Now, take my cap, and pass it around for your protégé."
He didn't have to tell me twice. How generous and good are the officers of France! They poured their silver coin into the hat, and banknotes of five francs. I gave it all to the little refugee. He cried again, this time for joy.
That's the story of my trip. I have nothing else to add, seeing that as soon as I got back to the compartment I slept so soundly that when we arrived Madame and Uncle had to shake me for five minutes to wake me up. What a fine journey! You couldn't do better!
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