as the Prussians never came into the woods on account of the
sharpshooters. W. said their camp was comfortable enough--they had all
their household utensils, beds, blankets, donkeys, and goats, and
could make fires in the clearing in the middle of the woods. They were
mostly women and children, only a very few old men and young boys
left. The poor things were terrified by the Germans and Bismarck, of
whom they had made themselves an extraordinary picture. "Monsieur sait
que Bismarck tue tous les enfants pour qu'il n'y ait plus de
Français." (Monsieur knows that Bismarck kills all the children so
that there shall be no more French.) The boys kept W. in a fever. They
had got some old guns, and were always hovering about on the edge of
the wood, trying to have a shot at a German. He was very uncomfortable
himself at one time during the armistice, for he was sending off
parties of recruits to join one of the big corps d'armée in the
neighbourhood, and they all passed at the château to get their money
and feuille de route, which was signed by him. He sent them off in
small bands of four or five, always through the woods, with a line to
various keepers and farmers along the route, who could be trusted, and
would help them to get on and find their way. Of course, if anyone of
them had been taken with W.'s signature and recommendation on him, the
Germans would have made short work of W., which he was quite aware of;
so every night for weeks his big black Irish horse Paddy was saddled
and tied to a certain tree in one of the narrow alleys of the big
park--the branches so thick and low that it was difficult to pass in
broad daylight, and at night impossible, except for him who knew every
inch of the ground. With five minutes' start, if the alarm had been
given, he could have got away into his own woods, where he knew no one
would follow him.

Hubert, the old coachman, used often to talk to me about all that