great many people had left
Voisins; that the civil government had gone to Coutevroult; that the
Croix Rouge had gone. So the schoolmistress and her husband, to whom
all this was amazing news, climbed out of the wagon, and made a dash
back to the station to attempt to get back to Paris. I do hope they
succeeded.

Amelie and I dismissed the man who had driven the wagon down, and jogged
on by ourselves. I sat on a board in the back of the covered cart, only
too glad for any sort of locomotion which was not "shank's mare."

Just after we left Esbly I saw first an English officer, standing in his
stirrups and signaling across a field, where I discovered a detachment
of English artillery going toward the hill. A little farther along the
road we met a couple of English officers--pipes in their mouths and
sticks in their hands--strolling along as quietly and smilingly as if
there were no such thing as war. Naturally I wished to speak to them.
I was so shut in that I could see only directly in front of me, and if
you ever rode behind a big cart horse I need not tell you that although
he walks slowly and heavily he walks steadily, and will not stop for any
pulling on the reins unless he jolly well chooses. As we approached the
officers, I leaned forward and said, "Beg your pardon," but by the time
they realized that they had been addressed in English we had passed. I
yanked at the flap at the back of the cart, got it open a bit, looked
out to find them standing in the middle of the road, staring after us in
amazement.

The only thing I had the sense to call out was:--

"Where 'd you come from?"

One of them made an emphatic gesture with his stick, over his shoulder
in the direction from which they had come.

"Where are you going?" I called.

He made the same gesture toward Esbly, and then we all laughed heartily,
and by that time we were too far apart to continue the interesting
conversation, and that was all the enlightenment I got out of that
meeting. The sight of them and their cannon made me feel a bit serious.
I thought to myself: "If the Germans are not expected here--well, it
looks like it." We finished the journey in silence, and I was so tired
when I got back to the house that I fell into bed, and only drank a
glass of milk that Amelie insisted on pouring down my throat.

XII

September 8, 1914.

You can get some idea of how exhausted I was on that night of Wednesday,
September 2, when I t