"George!" I called, as my boy came around the corner of the house.
"George, Cesar's been stolen!"
"Who says so, Madame?"
"Emile--the stable's empty."
Calmly and easily George walked over towards Emile, and taking him by
the collar, shook him violently. "Look here, you! What do you mean by
frightening Madame like that? Are you her servant? No! Well, then,
mind your own business!"
And opening a second door alongside the other, we found Cesar and
Sausage munching their oats.
It was no easy job harnessing in the dark and backing the heavy carts
out of the narrow yard into the still narrower street. But in ten
minutes our caravan was again en route.
We crossed the public square, now almost empty of men, horses and
motors, and took the only road leading south.
The first gray streaks of daylight lighted the east as we turned the
corner, and we were obliged to pull suddenly to the extreme right, for a
heavy Parisian motorbus swung round the bend and rushed on past us.
Straining my eyes, I perceived that there was not one but hundreds of
them, following each other at top speed down the hill. There were armed
men standing inside them, armed men on the platforms and steps, armed
men even on the roofs and it was indeed a strange sight to see
_Madeleine-Bastille_ and the _Galeries Lafayette_ out here in the open
country, jammed full of grim infantrymen preparing for the fray.
Suddenly a tremendous explosion rent the air and shook the ground so
that the horses stopped and trembled.
"There goes the bridge at Nogent!" cried George. "No--the power house
at La Tretoire!"
"_En avant!_" I called, knowing that the signal for battle had now been
given.