Scarcely anyone is left in the neighborhood. The butcher has gone. Fortunately, the baker is staying, and as long as the flour holds out we shall have bread.

If this state of isolation lasts long, it is proposed to kill and divide up the pet horse to feed those who are still here. Poor beast! I hope we shall not come to that pass. I feel a sort of gratitude to him.

The few people still remaining in Quincy and Voisins seem to make one big family. We live almost in common. The town-crier, Marin, with the help of Pron, the road-maker, kill and distribute an ox that was left behind by a refugee. Mirat, the carpenter, goes a long distance now and again to get provisions of some kind, and so renders us a very great service. Everyone is doing something to help everyone else,—holding his neighbor by the hand, as it were.

But we must try to find some sort of shelter, in case, owing to our position, we should be exposed to a bombardment.

Near by are deep spacious wine-cellars, which with their massive arches look like vast cloisters. We prepare provisions and carry them to these cellars, so that we can take refuge there if need be.

One of my aunts said she knew a very safe place where we could go if for any reason we were obliged to leave both the house and the cellar. It is one of the most isolated nooks in the plaster quarries, and is in the form of a trench. It would be impossible to find us there.

But we shall have to give up that "very safe place." My aunt came in a little while ago much excited. She has discovered that her hiding-place is inhabited! And by whom? By the Boches themselves! She saw their heads emerging from this kind of trench. They had carefully covered their shining helmets with grass. There were ten or more of them, and several cavalrymen farther on.

Perhaps it would be prudent to bury some of our things. I ask one of our old friends to help me dig a hole in the garden. We have planned to dig it this evening.

Meanwhile, I go to the hospital at Quincy, reaching there just as Sister Jules and Sister Marie are getting ready to go to Pont-aux-Dames. Sister Jules has arranged all her dressings and surgical instruments with the most painstaking care.[1]

The road is almost deserted, except for an occasional refugee who goes by on foot. The English are digging trenches at Demi-Lune in Mareuil Street, near the State road. Trenches are being made also beyond the Quincy plaster quarry, near the road to Mont and at SÉgy.

There is an encampment in the plain in front of the park of the chÂteau. It is meal time. With very evident pleasure the men are eating raw tomatoes. They are also taking great satisfaction in some jam that looks most appetizing. The jam comes in large cans decorated with pictures of the fruit of which it is made.

Every little while the earth trembles under our feet. We now hear cannon booming all around us.

This morning I saw a man who has just been to Meaux. He tells me that as he was going along the Magny road, in a place called Pageotte, a German automobile stopped in front of the demolished bridge. An officer got out and angrily inquired of several bystanders if it was long since the bridge had been destroyed.

"Yes, yesterday," they answered.

"Then," said he, "what happened to the patrol that was ordered to go this way this morning?"

"The men swam over, together with their horses."

Not being able to cross over himself the officer ordered his chauffeur to turn back. He was escorted by two soldiers carrying rifles.

This evening there is very little bread in the neighborhood. I meet a tall young Englishman looking for bread for himself and his comrades. I think there is some at home, so I tell him to follow me. When we reach the door, he refuses to come in and I have to hand him the bread through the window. We have very little left. Will the baker make more to-morrow? He carries off the bread, but is especially happy at being given some raw tomatoes. Always tomatoes! There is nothing you can give them that pleases them so much. But you have to hand them out through the window. One of the men who speaks very good French tells us they are under strict orders not to go inside a house on any pretext whatsoever. And they obey implicitly.

Another man comes and asks us for a crucifix. He manages to explain to me that he is engaged to be married, that perhaps to-morrow he will be killed, and he wants to send a souvenir to his young lady. We are glad to give him one. Before he goes, he wraps up his parcel, and in return offers to forward a letter to my brother by one of their messengers.

At nightfall a platoon of English come down from Huiry to search the Aulnois woods. Germans have been seen there.

Part of the men are detailed to beat the woods while the rest with astonishing agility and suppleness lie down on the ground and crawl away to hide, either lying flat or kneeling on the edge or inside of the ditch by the road. (This road is the continuation of Huiry Street towards the Aulnois woods, and is called Cat Lane.) If the Germans are driven out of the woods they will be obliged to go along this road.

Our old friend kept his promise to come to the house, and we immediately set about preparing the hiding-place for our treasures. While he was digging in the garden I heard very distinctly in the garden next door, on the other side of the wall, a dull thud that sounded like someone falling, then the same noise a second time. Certainly two men had jumped over the wall into the garden. Our friend heard it too, and motioned to me to know if he was to continue. Keeping my eye on the wall, I nodded to him to go on.

Hearing nothing more, I was tempted to go to the door in the garden wall that opens on the little woods to see if the English were continuing their search, so as to tell them to go into the garden next door. I don't know why I did not carry out this plan, unless because I was too much absorbed in putting the finishing touches to our hiding-place. It was lucky for me, possibly, for I might have found myself face to face with the Boches. The noises we heard were very likely made by two Germans jumping over the wall to escape being caught. While the English were watching for them in the road, they reached the garden from the rear, then PavÉ-des-Roizes, and from there slipped away in single file in the direction of Demi-Lune. (I learned this detail from a woman who saw them.)