Ye gods! I rubbed my eyes. It couldn't be possible that all this was
true! I was asleep! It was merely a horrible nightmare. But no--the
carts rolled on in the pale moonlight carrying their heavy burdens of
human misery.

It was more than I could stand. All thought of sleep had vanished, so I
went and woke Madame Guix. We dressed and descended to the kitchen,
where with a few smoldering embers, we soon managed to light a good
fire. Water was set to boil and in half an hour's time we carried out
to the bridge two huge pails of hot coffee, a pail of cold water, and
one of wine. No one refused our offerings, and the hearty "God bless
you's" of those kindly souls brought tears to our eyes more than once.

Dawn, Monday, August 31st, found us still at our posts. I rang the farm
bell, assembled my servants, and told them we would abandon all but the
most necessary farm work and minister to the wants of the refugees. By
eight o'clock they had peeled and prepared vegetables enough to fill two
huge copper pots, and the soup was set to boil. And still the long line
of heavy vehicles followed one another down the road: moving vans,
delivery wagons, huge drays, and even little three-wheeled carts drawn
by dogs, rolled on towards the south.

When asked where they were going, most of the people replied, "Straight
ahead of us, _a' la grace de Dieu_."

By the morning the heat had grown intolerable and a splendid looking man
got down from a cart and came towards me. Might he turn his party into
the drive and rest a bit in the shade?

I was only too willing, and gladly offered hot soup and stewed fruit to