away.

All we could do was to make an official declaration of the death at the
town hall. A small linen sheet served as shroud, a clean, flower-lined
soap box formed that baby's coffin, and Greorge and I were the grave
diggers and chief mourners, who laid the tiny body at rest in the little
vine-grown churchyard. War willed it thus.

When I got back from the cemetery I found another load of refugees
installed in the courtyard. This time they proved to be a hotel keeper
and her servants from the Ardennes. They, however, had foreseen that
flight was imminent and had carefully packed a greater part of their
household belongings and valuables onto several wagons, taking care that
all were well balanced and properly loaded so as to carry the maximum
weight without tiring the horses. They needed less attention than the
others had required, for when I explained that the house was theirs,
they went about their work swiftly and silently, getting in no one's way
and attending to every want of their mistress, who sat in her coupe and
gave orders.

Later on they were joined by the occupants of numerous other equipages,
all from the same district--but with whom I had but little intercourse.
From one poor woman, however, I learned that her two daughters, aged
sixteen and seventeen, had been lost from the party for two days. They
were in the cart with the curate who had stopped to water his horse,
thus losing his place in line. When they had reached the spot where the
road forked, which direction had he taken? What had become of them? She
pinned her name and route on the refectory wall, begging me to give it
to them if they ever inquired for her. To my knowledge they never
passed.