September 8, 1914.
I did not wake on the morning of Monday, September 7,--
yesterday,--until I was waked by the cannon at five. I jumped out of
bed and rushed to the window. This time there could be no doubt of it:
the battle was receding. The cannonading was as violent, as incessant,
as it had been the day before, but it was surely farther off--to the
northeast of Meaux. It was another beautiful day. I never saw such
weather.
Amelie was on the lawn when I came down. "They are surely retreating,"
she called as soon as I appeared.
"They surely are," I replied. "It looks as if they were somewhere near
Lizy-sur-I'Ourcq," and that was a guess of which I was proud a little
later. I carry a map around these days as if I were an army officer.
As Amelie had not been for the milk the night before, she started off
quite gayly for it. She has to go to the other side of Voisins. It
takes her about half an hour to go and return; so--just for the sake of
doing something--I thought I would run down the hill and see how Mile.
Henriette and the little family had got through the night.
Amelie had taken the road across the fields. It is rough walking, but
she doesn't mind. I had stopped to tie a fresh ribbon about my cap,--a
tri-color,--and was about five minutes behind her. I was about halfway
down the hill when I saw Amelie coming back, running, stumbling, waving
her milk-can and shouting, "Madame--un anglais, un anglais." And sure
enough, coming on behind her, his face wreathed in smiles, was an
English bicycle scout, wheeling his machine. As soon as he saw me, he
waved his cap, and Amelie breathlessly explained that she had said,
"Dame americaine" and he had dismounted and followed her at once.
We went together to meet him. As soon as he was near enough, he called
out, "Good-morning. Everything is all right. Germans been as near you
as they will ever get. Close shave."
"Where are they?" I asked as we met.
"Retreating to the northeast--on the Ourcq."
I could have kissed him. Amelie did. She simply threw both arms round
his neck and smacked him on both cheeks, and he said, "Thank you,
ma'am," quite prettily; and, like the nice clean English boy he was, he
blushed.
"You can be perfectly calm," he said. "Look behind you."
I looked, and there along the top of my hill I saw a long line of
bicyclists in khaki.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little alarmed. For a moment I
thought that if the English had returned, something was going to happen
right here.
"English scouts," he replied. "Colonel Snow's division, clearing the
way for the advance. You've a whole corps of fresh French troops coming
out from Paris on one side of you, and the English troops are on their
way to Meaux."
"But the bridges are down," I said.
"The pontoons are across. Everything is ready for the advance. I think
we've got 'em." And he laughed as if it were all a game of cricket.
By this time we were in the road. I sent Amelie on for the milk. He
wheeled his machine up the hill beside me. He asked me if there was
anything they could do for me before they moved on. I told him there
was nothing unless he could drive out the Uhlans who were hidden near
us.
He looked a little surprised, asked a few questions--how long they had
been there? where they were? how many? and if I had seen them? and I
explained.
"Well," he said, "I'll speak to the colonel about it. Don't you worry.
If he has time he may get over to see you, but we are moving pretty
fast."
By this time we were at the gate. He stood leaning on his wheel a
moment, looking over the hedge.
"Live here with your daughter?" he asked.