It was decided to stop in a village where living would be cheap.
The first night we got as far as Nanteuil, and put up at an inn which my father used to frequent when we went to Paris. Then, next morning, very early, we resumed our journey.
About one o'clock we reached the steep ascent of Dammartin, and got down from our conveyance to ease the horse a little.
Fighting was going on somewhere; we could hear the firing distinctly, like the thunder of a distant storm.
We even seemed to be travelling in the direction of the roar of the cannon; but, so blind is fear, that if the enemy had been in front of us my mother would rather have continued her course than turn back.
We passed through Dammartin without stopping, except to ask the news. No one knew anything very definite. The Count d'Artois was at Nancy; the allied sovereigns at Nogent-sur-Seine. The enemy was advancing upon Paris from all sides—that was all they could tell us.
We baited our horse at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges; then, when we had dined, we continued on our way, and reached Mesnil about eight in the evening.
We stopped at a hotel whose name I have forgotten—but it was situated on the left, at the corner of a street opposite the posting-house.
Next day, to my great regret, nothing was said about continuing our journey; it seemed to be almost settled that we should not go any further.