Plenty of Nothing

Hansom Cab

The Hansom cab was an English invention, but they had them in France too. Source.

Bécassine Among the Allies, pages 44, 45, 46, 47

44.

    Bécassine recounted without omission the events that we have already heard. Monsieur Proey-Minans listened to her with a lively interest. When she was done, he said, "What adventures you have had, my child. I must examine your skull. Remove your cap, if you would be so kind."

    He massaged her scalp while referring to a record of their previous encounter, and declared, "I knew it. The bulge of courage is developed, likewise the bump of ingenuity. Ah! Phrenology! What a science!"

    He dismissed the guards, then undertook to recount to Bécassine how he had come into his job with the police. "But, first," he said, "put Hindenburg in his basket. I can't stand the sight of a Boche, even if he is a dog." Bécassine regretfully packed up her companion.

    "I wished to serve my country," continued Monsieur Proey-Minans. "Unable to do it by arms, I applied to a newly created ministry, the Ministry for the Utilization of Aptitudes. The foyer was crowded. I presented my card to a footman, and, thanks to my membership in a number of academies, that man, respectful of science, introduced me very kindly into the Minister's waiting room. There, I had the pleasure to find two of my acquaintances who were there, like me, to offer their services."

    "They were Monsieur Gradouble, my pork butcher; and one of my friends, a very distinguished engineer, who before the war had managed a factory that made coil springs. We shook hands, and together the three of us entered the office of the Minister."

    "What a charming man, the Minister for the Utilization of Aptitudes! And how distinguished! Of course, I didn't have the opportunity to measure his skull, but I observed it at leisure during the conversation, which was easy for me because he is completely bald. It's a fine skull, and has the particular feature, which I have remarked on many ministerial heads, of being entirely smooth."

    "Monsieur the Minister listened to us very complacently."

45.

    "While we were taking our leave, he told us, 'Be assured that your aptitudes will be utilized to the best advantage of the country.'"

    "And how have they been?" asked Bécassine.

    "These two photographs will show you," replied Monsieur Proey-Minans.

    One of the photos showed a man surrounded by hams, tongues, pig's heads, and everything that goes into a sausage.

    "Is that Monsieur Gradouble?" asked Bécassine.

    "No," replied Monsieur Proey-Minans. "That's the engineer. As a maker of coil springs, he was put in the pork butcher's shop.* Gradouble," he added, handing her the other photo, "you can see represented here. He is an observer in one of those balloons they call sausages. Perhaps, my child, you think that it would be better to put the engineer in the aeronautical post, and the pork butcher in the pork butchery, and myself, because of my myopia, in some other line than spy-catching. If the Minister has not done so, it's because he has his reasons. Let us guard against vain critiques, my child."

    Animated by his subject, Monsieur Proey-Minans stood up. In a gesture familiar to lecturers, he held his ink bottle in one hand and, taking it for a glass of water, lifted it to his lips. Bécassine intervened just in time to prevent him from drinking it.

    At that moment the bellow of a ship's horn was heard. "The boat for England is announcing its departure," noted Monsieur Proey-Minans calmly.

    Bécassine jumped. "The boat for England?" she cried. "I forgot all about it! And my mistress and master who are waiting for me, and don't know what has become of me!"

    "Let's run!" said Monsieur Proey-Minans. They ran. Hindenburg was able to get out of his basket and ran on ahead. But when they arrived at the quay the vessel was pulling away.

    At the stern, Bertrand de Grand-Air, his wife, and Zidore waved their arms desperately. They shouted their London address, which Monsieur Proey-Minans carefully wrote down. Then he consoled Bécassine and told her there was another ship in two days.

    While they were returning they encountered a couple of policeman with the man who was the first cause of all these incidents. "He's a dangerous spy," said Monsieur Proey-Minans, "and it was Hindenburg who sniffed him out. That is enough to reconcile me with that Boche doggie. Leave him with me, my child. You'll have nothing but headaches if you try to get him into England."

    *The joke hinges on the word boudin which can apply to either a spring or a sausage.

46.

    After the adventures that you have heard, I spent two tranquil days waiting to leave by boat for England. Nearly the whole time I was in the office of Monsieur Proey-Minans. He was trying to teach me the science of phrenology. Between me and you, I didn't really get it. I confused all the bulges.

    The day of departure, the good Monsieur Proey-Minans had the kindness to accompany me aboard and introduce me to the captain. I was sad to be leaving him. And then I was worried about the submarines. It wasn't exactly fear, but something like it. The captain assured me that there was no danger, as he had good look-outs and a gun for shooting at the pirates. I offered to look out as well.

    "That's it," he said, and installed me at the bow near the gun. "Watch well, and let me know if you see le père Iscope." I suppose that this Père Iscope, about whom you hear so much, is an assassin cut from the same cloth as that old pirate Zeppelin. I kept my eyes peeled for the whole crossing. But I saw neither père nor fils Iscope, or anyone of that family.

    We arrived around evening at the English port, whose name I can't tell you. (Caution! Discretion!!!) There, it was necessary to get through customs, the police, and then to wait a good while for the train to London.

    In my compartment we were packed in like sardines. I tried to strike up a conversation, but all they would say was, "Oi ... Yes ... No." After half an hour everyone was asleep, except for me, who never closed an eye.

    Probably the emotions of the journey had left me on edge. Also, when we arrived, at about eight in the morning, I was very tired. I went through my pockets looking for the piece of paper on which Monsieur Proey-Minans had written the address of my mistress and master, and the roads to take to get there.

    I thought it was lost, and I was desolated, when I remembered I had stuck it under my cap. It's often like that: I take such careful precautions to make sure I don't lose things that I have all the trouble in the world finding them.

47.

   Here I am on my way, suitcase in one hand, directions in the other, nose in the air looking for the names of the roads. They're hard to read, and they all end in Street. It's not easy. Also, I'm in a muddle and completely lost.

    I asked the passersby my way while showing them my paper. I can well imagine that I pronounced it wrong, because those who spoke French said, "I don't know. There's no such place," before walking on. As for the rest, it's amazing how everyone in London walks quickly and seems pressed for time.

    I said to myself, "There's only one thing to do, and that's take a cab." Just at that moment, I spotted one stopped nearby. It was a funny cab, with the driver perched on the back. Trust the English to invent something like that!

    Standing on the tips of my toes I handed my paper to the cabman. He read it, and then gave a long discourse that I did not understand a word of, and pointed to the corner of a street on the other side of the square. It began to irritate me, because people were stopping and laughing.

    Then I climbed into the cab and settled in, and, as I was exhausted from my bad night and from tromping all over London, I immediately fell asleep like somebody without a worry in the world.

    I believe my sleep would have lasted all day, if I had not felt someone pulling on my arm. I sat up and looked around. It was the same square, but on the other side, at the place that the cabman had been pointing to while he was making his discourse. And it was the cabman who was shaking me, along with a soldier who had a nice face.

    The soldier said, "Step out, Mademoiselle Bécassine, you have arrived." And he made me see, on the sign at the corner of the street and the square, the name I had been searching for. He also told me to pay the cabman, and, once you put it into French money, it came to six francs that I gave him. That put me in a bad mood, because it seemed like highway robbery to charge that kind of money for a journey of fifty metres. Then the soldier explained that I had been asleep in the cab for nearly an hour. That calmed me down, but it gave me the idea that you must be rich to live in England, since even to sleep costs so much!

Phrenological Bust

Source.

Bécassine Among the Allies, pages 40, 41, 42, 43

40.

    The train hadn't been stopped two minutes when it departed again, before I was even able to store my luggage. While I was standing with my arms above my head, hands full of packages, the jolt caused me to lose my balance. I tumbled onto a fat territorial soldier, and almost knocked him out with my parcels. He was understanding. Instead of shouting, he laughed, and he said, "I'd rather have you fall on me than a 420mm shell."

    But I was conscious of disaster. The basket containing Hindenburg had fallen between the soldier and me and broken open. We fixed it as well as we could with bits of string donated by the other passengers.

    "This is serious," said Zidore. "This dog is such a tracker. It'll be awkward if he starts running around just when we're embarking. We have to be careful."

    The repairs completed, Hindenburg climbed into the basket. He stayed there with his head out and his paws holding the brim. He was in a friendly mood and made doggy smiles. He's like that whenever he sees French soldiers. We recounted his history, which interested our fellow travellers. They petted him and gave him sweets.

    It's not a great distance from BLANK to the seaport where we were to embark. Shortly before we arrived, Monsieur Bertrand opened the door of our compartment. Do you think we rushed to cover Hindenburg? We hadn't told our masters that we were bringing him.

    Certainly, it was not good of us to hide this from them, but I didn't understand that until later. Monsieur summoned us into the corridor, where he gave us our safe-conducts. He reminded us to stay close to him and Madame once we got off the train, and to watch what we said, because the ports are full of spies.

    "Especially you, Bécassine," he said. "Use caution. If a stranger asks you any questions, the best thing is to remain silent." I promised, and went back to gather my luggage.

    We entered the station. I stepped lively and followed Monsieur and Madame. That wasn't easy. There was a crowd, I was tangled up in everything I was carrying, and the basket with the dog kept banging against my legs.

41.

    I found myself a bit behind when I got towhere I must hand over my ticket and show the safe-conduct to the guard. After that little ceremony was over I had to run, but just at that moment a doubtful individual approached and offered to be my guide. He asked a lot of nosy questions: Was I going to England? Was I accompanying an officer? I didn't say anything, but put on an air, in a word, the kind of air reserved for grand occasions.

    Only, I wasn'r able to hold it for long, because Hindenberg gave a growl and began to thrash about. Suddenly he puched with all his might against the basket cover, and it burst open. He leapt out of the basket. I can't remember seeing him so ferocious. He flew at the man and bit the tail of his jacket.

    The man was able to tear himself away. He ran for it, and the dog ran after.

    Me, I ran after the dog.

    I yelled at the top of my voice, "Hindenburg! Hindenburg! Stop, Hindenburg!" You can imagine the emotions that produced in that town where nobody thinks about anything but the war and the spies. The next thing, I saw the man on the ground and my dog leaping for his throat.

        That alarmed me so considerably that I half-fainted. When I came back to my senses, there were two customs agents leading me away. One of them sad to his comrade, "That must be a police dog. The guy he brought down is a Boche we've been pursuing for a long time." The other one said, "We have to figure out if this woman is his accomplice." Their suspicion seemed terrible, but then I felt something cold on my fingers. I looked. It was Hindenberg, licking my hand. That restored my courage.

42.

    The agents conducted Bécassine to the police station. One of the two, who was smal, thin, jaundiced and ill-tempered, said, "If it turns out that you're in league with that Boche, it'll add up to a firing squad." And Bécassine felt faint again.

    But the other one chewed out his partner: "That's a fine way to talk to a lady," he said. "Especially one with such a pleasant face." Reassured, Bécassine gave a look that showed that her heart was overflowing.

    They arrived at the station. The accused and her guards followed a corridor and came to a door, on which there was a plaque that said: BUREAU OF SUSPECTS, Monsieur Proey-Minans, Director. "Proey-Minans!" thought Bécassine. "I know somebody with that name. Where have I met a Monsieur Proey-Minans?"

    Suddenly the memories crowded back on her. She recalled that at the start of the war she had been taken to Paris in a car by Monsieur Proey-Minans, a man of great intellect who dedicated himself to the study of personality, based on the lumps of the head, very short-sighted, very absent-minded, very kind, and a great friend of Madame de Grand-Air.

    Addressing herself to Hindenburg, who was sitting philosophically, she said, "If that's the same man, we won't be going in front of any firing squad."

    At the sound of a discrete tap at the door by the fatter agent, a voice so soft that they had trouble hearing it asked them to enter. The man belonging to the voice was at work, half hidden by a stack of books on one side, and a phrenological bust on the other.

    He asked, "You brought a suspect?" "A suspect," certified the fat agent. "Is she dangerous?" "As gentle as a newborn lamb." "If she would sit in this chair beside my desk, I will be with her in a moment." Bécassine sat.

    Nevertheless our heroine leaned over to examine the man upon whom her fate rested. She had no trouble recognizing him. Confiding in Hindenburg, she said, "It's all right, that's my Monsieur."

43.

    No doubt the dog took these words as an order. With a bound he jumped into the basket in which, through thick and thin, he served his mistress. And he stood upright in his favourite pose. He set his paws on the edge of the desk, and his big head was nearly level with Bécassine's.

    Monsieur Proey-Minans was writing all the while. From time to time he stood up to consult the phrenological bust, then he returned to his manuscript. Deep in scientific curiosity he extended his left hand in the direction that he expected to find the suspect's head.

    It was the skull of Hindenburg that he encountered. He massaged it, little by little, with great concentration. Taking this for a caress, the dog issued a contented snuffle.

    Monsieur Proey-Minans intensified his examination. His face bore an expression of immense interest. He arose, as solemnly as if he were addressing a learned audience, and said, "Phrenology, what an admirable science! You bring me a suspect. I neither look at her, nor examine her, yet I know that she is guilty. Her skull speaks for her. She is a Boche!"

    He would undoubtedly have continued his seminar, but at that moment Hindenburg, who very much enjoyed having his head rubbed, jumped up on the desk, sat up, and with his very large tongue licked the savant's face.

    "What is this?" cried Monsieur Proey-Minans, suffocating with indignation. "Guards, arrest this impertinent dog!" The guards approached, trying hard to maintain a serious expression, and delivered the savant from the effusions of Hindenburg.

    Never had Bécassine been so foolishly ammused. With a fierce effort she controlled herself and, between bouts of laughter, exclaimed, "Excuse us, M'sieur! It's only a dog who wants to show you his respect."

    "I know that voice," said the intellectual. He affixed his pince-nez, and adding his spectacles, gazed closely at Bécassine. He cried, "I know you. You're the maid of my very good friend Madame de Grand-Air. What are you doing here? What about this dog? Explain to me, I pray you, my child, this strange adventure."

Bécassine Among the Allies, pages 36, 37, 38, 39

36.

    "I must tell you, madame and mademoiselle," began the little soldier, "that my name is Evariste, and that Zidore and I are a true pair of friends. We knew it as soon as he joined the infantry to be with Lieutenant de Grand-Air. The day he arrived, he said to me, 'I like your head.'"

    "I told him in return, 'Yours pleases me equally.' We shook hands, and there was a feeling between us that it was for life and for death. I could have been jealous, seeing as he was to replace me as the Lieutenant's orderly, but jealousy is not among my number of faults."

    "It was settled. We each polished one of the Lieutenant's boots. When one mended his jacket, the other repaired his trousers. Sometimes the Lieutenant said to us, 'This isn't regulation. I have no right to an orderly, and I've got two.'"

    "We let him talk, and we enjoyed working for him, as Lieutenant de Grand-Air is as good an officer as you could find. When we were at the divisional rest station, we cooked up meals together that would make you lick your fingers. Oh, those were good times!"

    "One day, a few weeks after the wedding of Monsieur de Grand-Air, Zidore told me, 'We're going to have to part, my friend. The Lieutenant is being sent to the Grand Chiefs, and he's taking me with him.' We embraced, and I confess, though it's peculiar for soldiers, we cried fountains."

    It this point in Evariste's story, Bécassine suddenly interrupted. "Since you love my little Zidore so," she said, "you are my friend, and I must embrace you as he would." Evariste let her kiss him.

    After this touching interlude, he continued. "For me, the following weeks were the worst of the war. We were in the trenches, near the Somme, very close to the Boches. It never stopped raining. There was nothing going on, not even the smallest attack to distract us. We didn't even shoot."

    One day, I was trying to get some sleep in the shelter to forget about my boredom. Suddenly, I heard a shout, some laughter and a voice that reminded me of Zidore. As you can imagine, I wasnpt slow about getting on my feet and running along the trench."

    "It was my pal. We fell into each other's arms, and then he told us that his lieutenant was nearby at the English headquarters, and that he would use the opportunity to come and see us often. And suddenly he added ..."

37.

    "'We should play a trick on the Boches.' You know how jokes are his strong point. In no time he assembled a mannequin and lifted it up over the parapet. In the other trench they took it for one of us. I don't know how many rounds they fired at it. It was fun to see them waste so much ammunition for nothing."

    "But they weren't long in discovering the joke, and they followed up with one of their own. We saw appear over the edge of their defences a small replica of a soldier that jumped around this way and that. We couldn't get a clear view of it, though, because of the ground fog."

    "We had our guns to our shoulders when Zidore shouted, 'Don't fire, it's a dog!' And that proved once again the heartlessness of those Boche bandits. Our joke was funny but not cruel. Theirs could have ended in the shooting and injuring of a poor animal.'

    "But then something surprising happened. The dog suddenly broke away from them and ran towards us. It jumped into our trench. It greeted us with boundless affection and, since then, it hasn't left."

    "Probably the conduct of its previous owners set it off. It's angry at them. Whenever we take a prisoner it jumps at him and bites his calves. Other times, it leaps onto the parapet and barks furiously at the Boches."

    "Then Zidore told me, 'This will end with the dog getting shot. The next time you get leave, take him to Mam'zelle Bécassine.' I have done the job, and now I ask you, mam'zelle, if you'll look after the dog."

    The story recounted by Evarists entirely changed the feelings of the brave girl. She caressed Hindenberg, who allowed it with the greatest politeness.

    But, a moment later, he jumped up, ran to the door and barked joyously. "Funny," said Evariste. "That's what he does whenever he hears Zidore, who of all of us is the one he loves best. But Zidore isn't on leave."

    As he said these words, the door opened, and there was Zidore. "Greeting, one and all," he cried. "We leave for England. The orders arrived this morning. Madame will accompany us. You, too, Bécassine. Quick, pack the trunks. It seems it's forbidden to take dogs to England. Still, we should at least try to take Hindenburg."

38.

    It was a real hurly-burly preparing for the move. Monsieur Bertrand said that the trunks must be ready to go by dinnertime. We all worked at it, Monsieur, Madama, Zidore, I, and even Madame Ferluyr.

    It's not that she was that much help. She had the will, but not the energy, and she loved so much to see that everything she touched was neat and tidy, that she stopped to brush, shine and sew. I don't blame her, but it wasn't the time for all that.

    And then, suddenly, she even stopped brushing and shining. She collapsed on a pile of Madame's dresses that I had just folded -- just think if that made them neater and tidier -- and burst into tears. We asked her what was the matter.

    She groaned through her tears, "Sorrow and calamity! To think that I will never see you again, because surely the Boche U-boats will sink your vessel." When you're trying not to worry, that's something to hear the day before departure.

    Happily, Monsieur assured us that there was nothing to fear. And Zidore, who at that moment was stuffing I don't know how many cigarette packs into the Lieutenant's bag, said, "These are cork-tipped, just what you want in the event of a shipwreck." That little guy always knows when to make you laugh.

    The work was finished about seven o'clock. I was heading down to the kitchen to eat, when Zidore detained me. He had a conspiratorial air, and he said, "Now that it's just us, let's do something about Hindenburg."

    I had completely forgotten about him. On hearing his name, he came over to rub against us and get patted. He's not much to look at, but he's a good dog.

    "Look," continued Zidore. "Here is how we can get him into England without anyone suspecting. See, I'll put him in one of these baskets we use at the Front. If things get dangerous we can close the lid."

39.

    "Do it like this, and the customs men will be in the dark." We shut the lid and stood watching. At first Hindenburg was as crazy as a devil inside it, but soon he calmed down. Lady! In the trenches he had learned how to sit still and put up with discomforts.

    Next I tried carrying the basket. I put the strap over my shoulder. It was heavy, but Zidore lent a hand. After that, we went to dinner.

    Departure came at eight the next morning. There were people of every kind at the station to say goodbye to my mistress and master: Nurses, friends of Madame, officers, Monsieur's comrades, and even a general!

    As a matter of course, we stayed respectfully to one side. Then I had a surprise -- I saw Major Tacy-Turn. That filled me with happiness. He's so courageous and fine, despite his cold exterior! I gave him a warm greeting.

    He came right over to me. He was just as stiff as ever, and he spoke haltingly. He's like that whenever he is feeling his emotions. He said to me, "Arrived ... for you. Give me your hands." And he took them in his with a crushing grip.

    He went on: "When you are in ... London ... bring greetings to Miss Grace ... my fiancée ... Address is on the envelope ... Please give her ... this." It was a tiny little flower that he took from the envelope, and as he looked at it he seemed to fill with emotion.

    He continued: "Picked it for her ... on the field of battle ... I'm afraid it would be lost in the mail." And then once again he shook hands with me, and with Zidore whom I introduced. And he walked off with his long, unworried strides.

    I was left amazed and moved by that little scene. But the train was pulling into the station. I barely had time to collect my bags and climb with Zidore into our second class car, which was just behind the first class carriage of my master and mistress.

The Nails in Hindenburg's Statue

There is a long tradition in Germany of wooden carving, and an equally long folk practice of driving iron nails into trees for good luck. The First World War propaganda machine put these two together in the form of a massive wooden statue of Hindenburg in Berlin's Königsplatz, inviting patriotic Germans to drive iron nails into it. Source. See also.

Bécassine Among the Allies, pages 32, 33, 34, 35

32.

    A few minutes after my return, my mistress entered, accompanied by Madame Ferluyr, who had been to meet her at the hospital. They found me in the midst of putting the kitchen in order, as it was something of a shambles.

    Madame raised her arms to the heavens and said, "What cabbages, carrots, turnips! I expected enough for a pot-au-feu, but this would feed a regiment!"

    The ladylady asked me, "I suppose you had a car to transport all that load?"

    I replied, "I had something even better. I had General Joffre, General Nivelle, as well as Cadorna, Broussiloff, Douglas Haig, the Emperor and the coffee-seller."

    They looked at me, dumbfounded. Madame Ferluyr groaned, "Sorrow and calamity! It's the illness returned, the microbes at work. I must restart the treatment." She was already reaching for a teapot that was bubbling on the corner of the stovetop.

    I was worried that it would be back to the rest, diet, and tea for me, so I saved myself. All day I walked in the village and talked with this one and that to see if there was any news of the assassination attempt on General Joffre.

    No one had heard anything. That evening, my mistress had me sit up with her with my knitting, and she asked me to tell her all that had happened to me. I told her the tale without leaving out the slightest detail. She smiled from time to time, and said, "I think I get it." When I came to the invitation tot he cinema, she said, "That's it. I understand." And she said to the landlady, who was lurking around, "There's no need to worry. Bécassine has all her marbles."

    The next day I mentioned the cinema again. Madame said, "I'll come with you. I wouldn't miss this spectacle for anything. And we'll take Madame Ferluyr too."

    When we arrived, and I presented our tickets, the manager said that he was expecting us, and that he was giving us the best seats. An usheress seated us in the front row, with all the amenities: footstools and programs. It was embarrassing to be treated like that. I'm not used to it.

33.

    The first half of the showing was unimportant stuff. I wondered why they had invited us, but during the intermission the usheress told me, "The next part is the most interesting. It's the premiere of The Daring Frenchwoman, a war film."

    It started, and what do you think I saw? Exactly what I've recounted already: the arrival of the generals, the council of war, and then my battle with the traitor. When I saw myself on the screen, that had an effect! I stood up and cried, "But that's me!" The audience yelled, "Quiet! Down in front!" The usheress came and asked me not to create a scandal. That calmed me down, and the presentation ended with applause that was loud enough to collapse the ceiling.

    We were about to leave, but the manager came forward, greeted us diplomatically, and said, "The management request that the ladies do them the honour of accepting a cup of tea in the artists' lounge."

    "We accept with great pleasure," said Madame, smiling her pretty smile.

    Me, I was a little put out that I had taken a bunch of movie actors for great generals. They were all there in the lounge. The Emperor, who is the head of the enterprise, made a very nice little speech, with thanks, and apologies for putting me in without getting my permission first.

    "I asked, "The coffee-seller. What is he?"

    "That's the cameraman."

    Madame congratulated them on their success. "However," she added, "the chief of staff who takes his work outdoors so close to enemy lines, the traitor who gets so close to him, the Breton who arrives from who knows where, it's hardly realistic."

    "Call it absurd, Madame," replied the Emperor. "The absurder the scene, the better the box office. It's because I'm not afraid of the absurd that I've succeeded, to the point where everyone calls me the Emperor. The Emperor of Cinema."

    General Joffre came over and said, "When I think that I participate in these absurdities, me, an artist! Me, Onésime Matuvu, who took first prize at the Conservatory! But one must live. C'est la guerre. Ah! Sorrow!"

    "And calamity," added Madame Ferluyr, removing her nose from a cup of tea.

34.

    In the middle of the night following the premiere, Bécassine was startled awake by Madame Freluyr. "Hurry down to the cellar," cried the good lady in a state of agitation. "The zeppelins have come. The air is full of zeppelins."

    Bécassine didn't panic. Despite the sound of formidable explosions, she wrapped herself up warmly, and rummaged through her trunk for her best lace cap, her pen, the notebook containing her memoirs, a mother-of-pearl box she had won in a raffle, and several other knick knacks, all of which she then gathered into her arms with care.

    Loaded up with her things, she descended the stairs cautiously, stopping from time to time to pick up something she had dropped. At last she made it to the cellar.

    There she found the young Madame de Grand-Air with the English ladies who boarded in the house. They had set up a card table and were playing bridge. Their calm composure contrasted with the agitation of the landlady, who sat collapsed on a crate of bottles, repeating her constant refrain, "Sorrow and calamity!"

    Bécassine, always the maid, uncorked a bottle and poured half of it for Madame Ferluyr to calm her nerves, and then drank the rest herself, so as not to waste it. At that moment the all-clear sounded. It had been discovered, too late, that there was only one zeppelin, and it had caused more noise than damage. Everyone returned to bed.

    Around eight in the morning, Bécassine, who was catching up on her broken slumber, awoke to an intermittent pounding from the ground floor that shook the house. Dozily, she sat up in her bed and said, "Good heavens, there's that dirty zeppelin back again. Never mind, I'm not going down again. I'm too sleepy." And she was sinking back to sleep when her mistress appeared in the room. "Well, now, Bécassine," she said. "Don't you hear that? Someone has been pounding on the door for fifteen minutes."

    Bécassine hastily arose, dressed herself quickly, and tumbled downstairs. We have to say that, still half-asleep, she felt a profound sense of antipathy toward the person unknown who had disturbed her rest, and who was knocking with redoubled vigour. She pulled the door open suddenly ...

35.

    ... and received a kick in the shin intended for the door. She gave a shout that brought both stammered apologies and a bark. Fully awake now, she found herself in the presence of a small infantryman carrying a large package and smiling with an air of embarrassment.

    "Well, well," said Bécassine. "You made all that noise yourself. I took you for a zeppelin."

    "Yet there is no resemblance."

    "You're just as loud. Why were you knocking with your feet?"

    "Because my arms were full with this package."

    While they talked, Bécassine, overflowing with symathy for all our soldiers, conducted him to the kitchen and had him sit down to a makeshift breakfast. Continuing the conversation:

    "Tell me, soldier, why don't you put down your parcel?"

    "Because it'll run away. Watch."

    He set the package on the floor. It began to shift around in all directions and make vague noises.

    "Sorrow and calamity!" cried Madame Ferluyr, coming in. "Don't touch it, Mam'zelle Bécassine. It's the devil."

    "I think it's more likely a baby."

    The soldier gathered up the strange parcel and said, "It's not the devil or a baby. It's a dog. I had to tie him up to stop him wriggling around and running off. I'll show you." He undid the parcel and an ugly head popped out.

    It was a dog with a big square head and a grumpy scowl. Its bald pate had a wart in the shape of a nailhead. "It's a Boche dog," explained the soldier. "We named him Hindenburg because he looks like him. Also, he has a nail like the ones they hammer into Hindenburg's statue."

    The dog sat up and begged, then put one paw above its eye in a military salute. Madame Ferluyr was in raptures, but Bécassine expressed her indignation:

    "Are you crazy, bringing me a Boche dog with a name like that?"

    "Don't be angry, mam'zelle," replied the soldier. "It was my comrade Zidore who put me in charge of bringing him to you. He's ugly (the dog, not Zidore), but a good animal. I'll tell you about how we got him."

    He took a seat. Bécassine and Madame Ferluyr did likewise. He took a drink of wine, clacked his tongue, declared that the Boches had nothing to compare, then, surveying his attentive audience, he began his tale.

Allied Generals Cigarette Cards

Bécassine Among the Allies, pages 28, 29, 30, 31

28.

    I don't need to tell you that I was impatient to rejoin my friends the generals. I ran as fast as I could to the village, and I didn't lose any time starting to buy vegetables.

    But market gardeners are not the quickest people. The first one I saw would serve me only after he had finished digging up a corner of his plot. Another was putting mats around his frames. He showed me as much consideration as you would a mat. I boiled over and stamped my feet, but to get him to hurry up was like trying to knock over a wall with your breath.

    Also, I had to make two journeys with a wheelbarrow to convey my purchases to the station, where I left them under guard. Madame hadn't told me how many vegetables she wanted. I thought it was better to get too many than not enough. I took all I could find: ten cabbages, and I don't know how many bundles of carrot, leek and turnip. All the same, I was a little shocked when I saw the pile they made. All that took me over an hour.

    And I hope you'll believe I didn't dawdle on the road toward the barracks ... to Headquarters, I should say. When I arrived, a sentry shouted, "Who goes there?" Then he said, "Ah, it's you, the Breton from the train. You may pass." I recognized him as one of the ones from the train. I also recognized his comrades, who were milling around in front of Headquarters. They were wearing uniforms, but they were a funny bunch of soldiers, tangled in their rifles, with little in the way of military bearing.

    They said to me, "The head guys are down there. They were asking for you." I looked where they indicated, and for a moment I nearly fell down in astonishment. There were my friends from the train. I recognized them, but at the same time I saw how they matched up with the pictures in the newspapers. It was amazing how anyone could transform like that!

29.

    The danger of spies must be great if it causes generals to disguse themselves on the train! General Joffre said to me, "You're late. You missed the parade and the distribution of medals. But we still have a lot of interesting things to show you."

    He turned to the Emperor and the coffee-seller, who had his machine set up on a tripod. He asked them, "What do you want to do now?" They said, "The arrival of the foreign generals at Allied Headquarters."

    Then Joffre and Nivelle paced off about fifteen metres. They shouted, "Here we are. Turn the crank, coffee-seller." And they had a lively conversation, with plenty of gestures. And then an automobile pulled up, with General Cadorna inside. He got out. He shook the others by the hand, and spoke with them.

    It was the same thing with Broussiloff, Haig, the Belgian general, the Serb and the Japanese, whose names I don't know. But it was always the same auto, with the same driver, who changed his uniform each time. It astonished me that each general didn't have his own car.

    Me, I stood by the coffee-seller, who turned the crank with seriousness and attention, as if victory depended on it. The Emperor gave directions: "Joffre, a little forward ... Cadorna, in profile ... closer together ... smile."

    And everone obeyed him. I had the notion that he must be a very powerful individual, more powerful than a deputy. He seemed happy. He kept saying, "Excellent scene. That's what the public is after." And then he yeled, "That'll do. Take a break."

    They all came over. He handed out cigarettes, and they smoked and chatted together, including the coffee-seller, which I found a little familiar on his part. But I've witnessed so many amazing things since the day I was born that nothing surprises me anymore.

30.

    When the cigarettes were finished, the Emperor shouted, "Let's get back to it. Time is wasting. Everyone in place for the Allied council of war." The generals gathered and conferred around a table spread with a map.

    I approached a little and put out my ear, thinking that they must be saying some very interesting things about the war. Ah well! I was in for a surprise. They were talking about the mutton stew at their hotel, and complaining that it was more bone than meat.

    At that moment a gust of wind lifted the map and blew it away. I ran after it and brought it back. I thought I had done well, but the Emperor and coffee-seller set up a cry of "She has wasted two metres of ---" Here they said a word I didn't understand, something like film.

    Fortunately, the generals came to my defence. They said, "Calm yourselves. It's no great loss. We can start over." They went back to their discussion.

    And then everyone took another break, but they didn't seem as content as the last time. The Emperor said, "We need something sensational for the final scene. I've wracked my brains, but I can't come up with anything. Do any of you have an idea?" No, they didn't either.

    Then they said, "Maybe the Traitor has something." They called him over. It was that redheaded villain whose looks I don't care for. He made some kind of suggestion, but I didn't overhear it. The others nodded and said, "It's not great, but it'll do."

    "It's worth a try," said the Emperor. They built a campfire. A soldier carried over a large rock that appeared to be made of cardboard. General Joffre seated himself on it with his map on his knee and the soldier standing guard nearby.

    The Emperor said: "Evening, a bivouac... The General prepares tomorrow's attack... Overcome by fatique, the General dozes off... Act like you're sleeping, General... Eluding the guard's surveillance, a Boche sneeks up."

    At that instant I saw something terrible. The frightening redhead, now in a beard and a pointy helmet, was creeping up from behind and raising a dagger.

    Then, in a blink of an eye...

31.

    I leapt on him, I grabbed the dagger from his hand, and rolled him on the ground. I put my foot on his back as I had once seen a liontamer do with a ferocious tiger.

    It seems that the coffee-seller had me in his sights again, and was yelling about lost film, but the Emperor shouted back, "Keep quiet and keep cranking! This is phenomenal! It'll be a triumph!" Me, I was so worked up that I burst into tears.

    They were all very kind. They gathered round, consoled and thanked me. And then they changed back into their civilian clothes, and we all went back to the train station. What amazed me most of all was that Joffre walked along with that frightful traitor who had tried to assassinate him, and called him, "My old pal."

    At the station, they were astonished by the quantity of vegetables I had purchased. For sure there was no way I'd be able to carry them all by myself. They helped, and not only there, but at BLANK, where they had the goodness to accompany me to the house and help me arrange the produce in the kitchen. There were vegetables everywhere, on the floor, on the tables. It looked like a market stall.

    As he left, the Emperor said, "Mademoiselle, as a mark of gratitude for all that you have done, here are some tickets to the showing tomorrow at the Grand National Cinema. It's a premiere that will interest you. Don't fail to show up."

    I was left totally clueless, tickets in hand, wondering if this wasn't a dream, and what a cinema, the Emperor, and all the generals could possibly have in common.

Le Poilu

While the English infantryman was clean-shaven, and his officer wore a moustache, the common French soldiers of World War One wore beards, hence the nickname poilu, hairy.