It was an uneventful trip from Choisy to Jouy. The roads were excellent, though very undulating and the only incident that marked our journey was an intoxicated individual who jumped across our path and, putting his hand on my handle bar, demanded tearfully what I had done with his wife and children.
I declared myself innocent in the matter, which angered him considerably.
"Now I know you're a spy! Get down—" George did not give him time to finish the phrase, but with a well-measured blow, sent him sprawling in the brambled ditch and we beat a hasty retreat without looking back.
It was night by the time we reached Jouy, and at the entrance of the city I enquired for the best hotel.
"Le Grand Turc—but the proprietress is closing up, making ready to leave."
"What! Here? You don't mean to say the scare has reached this place, too?"
"Well, we've had so many refugees these days that the women got frightened and want to go."
George and I parted company, he to see what he could find since the best hotel was denied us, and I, undaunted, started off to try to persuade the proprietress to let us in.
After much rattling at the door handles and pounding on the shutters, an acrid female voice enjoined me to be gone.
"I'm closing up and leaving."