The remnants of Rochereau’s short life and tragic death lie under a layer of dust and cobwebs. The bedroom is frozen in time, but shows the life the young French solider led before his death in Belgium.
There are books, shoes, riding trophies, an antique pistol, military manuals, a pipe and a tin of tobacco - all neatly stored away. Beside the desk, connected by a cobweb, hangs his moth-eaten uniform.
The memorial is not the only one in the town dedicated to the solider, one of millions who died in the Great War. His name is listed on the official stone one, etched into the rock along with all the other boys from Belarbre. But the bedroom is special – so much so that his parents included its preservation in the deed of sale.
The house’s current owner, Daniel Fabre, a 72-year-old retired civil servant, inherited the property, and has so far observed the 500-year contract.
"It's not an act of devotion but of historic preservation," he tells AFP.
But the clause "has no legal basis," he says. "You can't keep something preserved that way for 500 years under French law."
Hubert Rochereau was born in this modest room, and on the wrought-iron bed with its lace blanket lies his feathered military-academy cap and his army medal, awarded posthumously.
His portrait, a large sepia print, hangs above his bed, revealing the man who died a day after being wounded on a hill in West Flanders.
While Fabre has respected Rochereau’s parents’ wishes, he’s also adamant that the room never be opened to the public. He doesn't allow history buffs to traipse through it, and asks all media outlets to refrain from publishing anything that might allow the public to identify his house.
"I especially don't want to be invaded," he says. "Certainly not. After all, this is my home."
But what of the future for this century-old memorial? Fabre is unsure. It’s possible his daughter will take up the care-taking duties, but he suspects she will end up selling the house – with it’s non legally-binding deeds.
"To be brutal: I don't give a damn. What happens after me, generally speaking, I don't care.... But I think it would be a shame to get rid of all this," he says.
His sentiment is shared by the entire village, for whom Rochereau’s bedroom has become a symbol of the futility of the First World War.
"It's history, but it's also a form of family worship," says the mayor, Laurent Laroche.
Dragoons Officer Hubert Rochereau was just one of nine million dead men, but now his memory lives on, a century later.
“And I think that if they could see that somehow, his parents would be satisfied," Laroche says.
See the gallery of images from Hubert Rochereau's bedroom below:
