"Oh, madame," she replied, "I shall stay."

"And so shall I," I answered; but I added, "I think I must make an
effort to get to Paris to-morrow, and I think you had better come with
me. I shall not go, of course, unless I am sure of being able to get
back. We may as well face the truth: if this means that Paris is in
danger, or if it means that we may in our turn be forced to move on, I
must get some money so as to be ready."

"Very well, madame," she replied as cheerfully as if the rumble of the
procession behind us were not still in our ears.

The next morning--that was September 2--I woke just before daylight.
There was a continual rumble in the air. At first I thought it was the
passing of more refugies on the road. I threw open my blinds, and then
realized that the noise was in the other direction--from the route
nationale. I listened. I said to myself, "If that is not artillery,
then I never heard any."

Sure enough, when Amelie came to get breakfast, she announced that the
English soldiers were at the Demi-Lune. The infantry was camped there,
and the artillery had descended to Couilly and was mounting the hill on
the other side of the Morin--between us and Paris.

I said a sort of "Hm," and told her to ask Pere to harness at once. As
we had no idea of the hours of the trains, or even if there were any, it
was best to get to Esbly as early as possible. It was nine o'clock when
we arrived, to find that there should be a train at half past. The
station was full. I hunted up the chef de gare, and asked him if I