I wrapped my shawl closer about me and sat down on the low stone wall that borders the moat, while little groups of peasants, unable to sleep, clustered together on the roadside.
Nearer and nearer drew the clanking noise and presently a whole regiment of perambulators, four abreast, swung around the corner into the moonlight.
Domptin!
Domptin, our neighboring village, one mile up the road, had caught the fever and was moving out wholesale, transporting its ill and decrepit, its children and chattels, in heaven knows how many baby carriages!
I had never seen so many in all my life. The effect was altogether comic, and Madame Guix and I could not resist laughing—much to the dismay of these poor souls who saw little amusement at being obliged to leave home scantily clad in night clothes.
They passed on, without further comment, and the last man had hardly turned the corner when a scream coming from up the road drew us to our feet, and sent us running in that direction. Almost instantly, the figure of an old white-capped peasant woman appeared in the distance. She was wringing her hands and crying aloud. When we were within ear shot, I caught the word, "Uhlans!"
"Uhlans! Where?"
"Dans le bois de la Mazure!" (A half-mile from Villiers.)
"How do you know?"
"Saw their helmets glittering in the moonlight!"