s. My proceeding was very
simple. It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to
stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like
birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by. Then as it
whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, "_Les journaux! Les
jour-naux!_"

It worked like magic. We had hardly been there two minutes when a train
was signaled.

As it approached, we could see that engine and cars were decorated with
garlands of flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscriptions as,
"_Train de Plaisir pour Berlin,_" and numerous caricatures had been
chalked on the varnished sides of the carriages.

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful shouts, the boys gladly threw
us the papers which were welcomed like the rain of manna in the desert.
I managed to collect two, _L'Action Franfaise_, and _Le Bonnet Rouge_.

Until others and fresher were procured, the Royalist and the
Revolutionary sheets hung side by side on the public sign board at
Villiers, proving that under the Third Republic, _Liberte', Egalite',
Fraternite_ are not vain words.

The news of the violation of Luxembourg and Belgian territory created
less sensation than one might have expected. In the circumstances news
of any kind seemed a blessing.

There was still quite a gathering in front of the town hall when the
first carts began to return from the revision. They were few and far
between, compared with the double line that had driven past in the
morning. My heart leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, turn
into the court.

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shining. "Though still so game
that they nearly kept him. He's reserved for a second call."

"And Florentin and Cognac?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I
took it and read, "_Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc._"

"Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the
hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the
deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying
towards the stables. I followed.

"George! George!" called Julia.

"Well?" came the answer from within.

"George--where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones.

"How do I know?"

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?"

"I think so; yes."

"Then why didn't Poupard come back with you and Leon in the cart? Did