12.
We are not yet in England. We stopped en route so that Monsieur could confer with the English general staff. Therefore he has installed us, Madame and I, at BLANK. I can't tell you where, as he reminded me to be very discrete about anywhere I go in the armed sector. So, I won't tell you the name of the town, but I'll help you work it out for yourself by giving you a rebus. You see, our town begins with A, and you get there by taking the Northern railway line. It's known for its cathedral and its duck pâté. Have you figured it out?*
*Amiens.
We are in a small family pension. At the moment the only ones here are four women. They take their café au lait together in the morning, my mistress included, and then they head off to their hospitals or workplaces. They don't return until dinner, and all day the house is empty and lifeless. Yesterday, I tried to read, then to sew, but I was bored being alone, so I went for a walk in the town to occupy myself.
The thing I find most attractive about BLANK is the display window of the patissier that makes the famous duck pâté. I had given it a good looking-over, and was about to return, when I noticed beside me, standing on a bollard, a little duck that was also looking in the window. I don't know where it came from. I didn't see it arrive. It was looking in so seriously! Then I thought that it might be an orphan, that its parents might be in one of those pâtés, and that made me teary-eyed. And then I reflected that it was dangerous for that duck to remain where it was. I gently picked it up in my arms and decided to carry it to the country.
So there I was, going through the town. People, most of them French or English soldiers, laughed when they saw me. Some of them called, "Quack! Quack!" I laughed too, but I didn't let go of my plan, or my duck.
Upon leaving the town, I came to a lake. I imparted liberty on my little orphan. It didn't hesitate to dive into the water, and as it paddled away it turned its head and quacked. It seemed to me that it was saying thank you.
13.
That cheered me up. I was in the mood again to do something fun. Then it came to me that I might be able to fish for frogs in this lake. I quickly made a fishing line from a bit of string, a bent pin, and a lure made of red cloth, as I'd done before back home, and I got started.
It worked very well. I caught one, two frogs. With a yank I sent the third one flying. A huge voice shouted, "Pay attention, you!" It so startled me that I dropped my line. The frog had slapped a passing soldier right in the face! I said, "Excuse me, Monsieur le militaire."
But he shouted even more furiously, "That's gendarme to you!" As if it were easy to tell a policeman from a soldier, when they all dress the same, in horizon blue or khaki.
Next, he demanded to see my papers. I brought out my safe-conduct, you know, the one with the stamps all over it. It seemed that he wasn't done yet. He explained to me that in order to walk about in the countryside I must have a red stamp. He said, with a terrible demeanour, "Grave, very grave. Contravention!" And he brought me before his superior, holding me by the arm as if I was a robber. I was ashamed.
Happily the chief was very kind! He said, "She has a nice face." And then he read over the safe-conduct, observing, "In service of an officer ... Confidential diplomatic mission ... Good ... Let's give it the red stamp." And he found a place to add another stamp to my paper.
Perhaps from seeing his boss be so agreeable, the gendarme came to regret acting so meanly. He gave me smiles and courtesies, and recommended that I push on by the same route tomorrow until I reach the English airfield, where you can see the exercises. I'll do that for sure.
14.
FIRST ACT. An English airfield in the area of BLANK. Six o'clock in the morning. Fine weather.
Dramatis Personae. Major Tacy-Turn, camp commander. His First Lieutenant. Flyers, Country People, Bécassine.
The Major (speaking to his First Lieutenant slowly as if it takes an effort to get each word out of his mouth): Orders ... for ... the morning ... all units ... to be airborne.
The lieutenant is keen to relay the order. Right away, a joyous animation reigns in the camp. The machines are pushed out of the hangers. The engines roar and backfire. The major approaches a group of flyers eager to take their places in the aeroplanes. He stops beside a captain, second in command, who arrived at camp the day before.
The Captain: Are you squadron leader, Major?
The Major: No! ... (With effort) I'll remain in camp ... alone.
The Captain: Alone! With no one to talk to! How boring!
The Major: No ... on the contrary. (He drifts off.)
Discrete laughter in the squadron. The captain learns from his comrades that their chief, head of the flying aces, has a horror of speaking, and suffers real agonies when constrained to do so.
The aeroplanes roll onto the runway, and take flight, each one following at a fixed distance. The major watches their manoeuvres through his binoculars. Finally, the captain, the last to take flight, is away.
The Major (with an expression of intense pleasure): Alone!
15.
At that moment his attention is directed to a clamour rising from the edge of the camp. Stolidly he fills his pipe and lights it. Then, with long strides, he heads toward the disturbance.
Beyond the fence some local villagers have gathered. They are cheering on the aircraft and their pilots. In the midst of the curious we spot Bécassine, who has come on the advice of the gendarme the day before.
Bécassine (enthusiastically shouting, gesticulating and waving her lace cap): Oh! How wonderful! ... You would think they were birds! ... Take that, Boches! ... Vivent les aviateurs! ... Vive la France! ... Vive l'Angleterre! ... Vive les Alliés!
The major is so thunderstruck by the torrent of words that for a moment he stands frozen in place. Then he marches up to Bécassine and glares at her fixedly like a liontamer with a ferocious beast.
The Major (with a violent gesture): Oi! Move along! Right now! Chatterbox! (His expression of profoundest contempt.)
Bécassine, not understanding a word, curtsies mechanically, and then runs for her life, terrified.
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