rom the battles of the 5th, 6th, and 7th had lain for days un-buried
under the hot September sun, but that the fire department was
already out there from Paris, and that it would only be a few days
when the worst marks of the terrible fight would be removed. But they
brought back no news. The few people who had remained hidden in
cellars or on isolated farms knew no more than we did, and it was
impossible, naturally, to get near to the field ambulance at
Neufmortier, which we can see from my lawn.

However, on the 9th--the very day after the French advanced from
here--we got news in a very amusing way. We had to take it for what
it was worth, or seemed to be. It was just after noon. I was working in
the garden on the south side of the house. I had instinctively put the
house between me and the smoke of battle when Amelie came
running down the hill in a high state of excitement, crying out that the
French were "coming back," that there had been a "great victory,"
and that I was to "come and see."

She was in too much of a hurry to explain or wait for any questions.
She simply started across the fields in the direction of the Demi-Lune,
where the route nationale from Meaux makes a curve to run down the
long hill to Couilly.

I grabbed a sunbonnet, picked up my glasses, and followed her to a
point in the field from which I could see the road.

Sure enough--there they were--cuirassiers--the sun glinting on their
helmets, riding slowly towards Paris, as gaily as if returning from a
fete, with all sorts of trophies hanging to their saddles.

I was content to go no nearer. It was no army returning. It was only a
small detachment. Still, I could not help feeling that if any of them
were returning in that spirit, while the cannon were still booming, all
must be well.

Amelie ran all the way to the Demi-Lune--a little more than a quarter
of a mile. I could see her simply flying over the ground. I waited where
I was until she came back, crying breathlessly, long before she
reached me:

"Oh, madame, what do you think? The regiment which was here
yesterday captured a big, big cannon."

That was good news. They really had not looked it.

"And oh, madame," she went on, as she reached me, "the war is
over. The Germans have asked for peace," and she sat right down
on the ground.

"Peace?" I exclaimed. "Where? Who told you that?"

"A man out there. He heard it from a soldier. They have asked for
peace, those Boches, and Ge