aid we'll have to draft you, too. Our
time is limited and if a scene like this happen at every shop we'll be
punished for tardiness! Here's my order to draft an interpreter," and
he put his hand into his pocket.

I was somewhat abashed.

"Might I ask when you will release me?"

"Just as soon as we've the supply we need."

"Will you give me ten minutes to arrange my affairs here?"

"Certainly. But remember you're on parole!"

Outside I explained the situation to George and Leon, and scribbling a
note to friends in Barbizon, told the boys to drive over and reassure
the others--make them comfortable at the _Clef d'Or,_ and tell them to
expect me that evening.

"Whatever happens, wait there until I come. There's no danger of the
Germans reaching Barbizon, I fancy!"

And that is how from nine in the morning until late in the afternoon I
sat perched on the front of a British Army Supply truck, much to the
amusement of the other Tommy Atkins we encountered in Melun and the
neighboring villages.

My officer friends very courteously drove me to the hospital where I
learned that my poor wounded _chasseur_ Ballandreau had passed away in
the night, and towards five o'clock, when their task was completed, they
offered me tea and proposed to drive me to Barbizon. As we jolted down
the hill towards the railway crossing our attention was attracted by a
huge gathering of citizens and soldiers, and above the roar of our
motor, we could hear the rolling of a drum. Silence reigned instantly
and an officer in uniform in the middle of the group read out a short
message from a paper he held in his hand. What he said we could not
hear, but the mad shout of joy that went up when he had finished made us
eager to learn the news. Like lightning "Paris saved--the Germans
retreating" ran from mouth to mouth, and the delirious excitement that
seized that crowd was absolutely indescribable. Young and old, English,
and French, peasant and bourgeois, fell on each other's necks and
exchanged a joyous embrace. The awful tension of the last month was
broken and the word victory was uttered by thousands of throats,
suddenly grown husky with emotion.

My arrival and the news I bore created a sensation among my servants and
the remaining inhabitants of Millet's famous village. Barbizon was
dead--literally deserted, for not a single member of that delightful
summer colony remained, several hotels were closed, and the others as
empty as i