she gave freely.

[Illustration: MADAME BALLI President Réconfort du Soldat]

In that terrible September week of 1914 when the Germans were driving
like a hurricane on Paris and its inhabitants were fleeing in droves
to the South, Madame Balli's husband was in England; her
sister-in-law, an infirmière major (nurse major) of the First Division
of the Red Cross, had been ordered to the front the day war broke out;
a brother-in-law had his hands full; and Madame Balli was practically
alone in Paris. Terrified of the struggling hordes about the railway
stations even more than of the advancing Germans, deprived of her
motor cars, which had been commandeered by the Government, she did not
know which way to turn or even how to get into communication with her
one possible protector.

But her brother-in-law suddenly bethought himself of this too lovely
creature who would be exposed to the final horrors of recrudescent
barbarism if the Germans entered Paris; he determined to put public
demands aside for the moment and take her to Dinard, whence she could,
if necessary, cross to England.

He called her on the telephone and told her to be ready at a certain
hour that afternoon, and with as little luggage as possible, as they
must travel by automobile. "And mark you," he added, "no dogs!" Madame
Balli had seven little Pekinese to which she was devoted (her only
child was at school in England). She protested bitterly at leaving her
pets behind, but her brother was inexorable, and when he called for
her it was with the understanding that all seven were yelping in the
rear, at the mercy of the concièrge.