The Missing Matisse by Pierre H. Matisse

Author:Pierre H. Matisse
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal Memoirs, RELIGION / Christian Life / Inspirational
ISBN: 9781496418371
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2016-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT THING I KNOW, Gaston is shaking me.

“Wake up, Pierre. We have to head back to the farm.”

“It’s still night. Why don’t we go down later?” I say, still exhausted.

“We have to travel in darkness part of the way down because of the Boches’ planes.”

I dread the march down, but I am not about to complain, even if my feet still haven’t come to terms with the land and these boots. The adventure is well worth all the suffering.

Gaston seems to read my mind. “Don’t worry. No more walking. The mules are unloaded, so we can ride them down the trail.”

After a breakfast of cheese and bread washed down with wine, we mount the mules and start out with our bellies full and our spirits high. The sky is clear, and I quickly find the constellation Gemini. As the sky gradually lightens, the stars disappear one by one. Now I can almost see where the valley is, and soon the snowcaps show up in the distance.

A few minutes later, it is light, although the sun isn’t visible. How strange. At sea the sun comes early in the morning, but here in the Alps the sky king hides behind some big mountain in the east. The sun in these mountains is lazy like me; I would have enjoyed staying in my comfortable hay bed for a few more hours.

The air is so pure, one can see for miles. I spot a small hamlet nestled on the other side of the valley. Sprinkled here and there are isolated farms that look like miniature toys. With so much beauty surrounding me, it’s hard to remember that there is a war going on.

Suddenly a marmot runs across the trail. My mule shies sideways, and I almost fall off.

“Stop dreaming, Pierre! Pay attention to where the mule is going!” Gaston says.

“Sorry!” I say, shaking my head to keep from falling asleep.

“We are going to take a shortcut down the mountain. Stay alert!”

We dismount and guide the mules, one by one, down a steep rocky slope onto a trail again.

“That saves us an hour,” Gaston says with a smile.

We are riding again, but the trail is so narrow, it’s scary. With a deadly precipice on the right, there is no room for a mistake.

“Faster!” Gaston orders.

“What’s the hurry?” I ask, trying not to look over the edge.

“The Boches’ planes. If they catch us here, we are in trouble, Pierre.”

“In the month that I have been here, I’ve never even seen one.”

“One more reason to get out of here fast.”

I can see the pines that mark the tree line. We’re safe.

“Run! Run, Pierre! Make her run faster to the woods,” Gaston screams in a panic.

I don’t hear any planes. What’s the problem? But I make my two mules run as fast as they will go, which is not an easy task riding one and pulling the other. Gaston gets to the trees before me. Then he runs toward me, pulls me off my mule, grabs the two animals, and quickly hides them under a huge pine.

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