The last inhabitants have left Meaux; they went by on the road at the same time as a detachment of infantry, falling back before the enemy.
As they go along they shout to us: "They have blown up the bridges behind us. The Germans are already at Trilport!"
"But," asks a woman, "isn't there any way of stopping them?"
A lieutenant who heard her question answers: "You might as well try to stop the waters of the sea. They pour in from everywhere—from every highway and byway and back-alley—a regular tidal wave. Unless some miracle happens they will be here by to-night."
It is impossible, even if we wished it, to leave by way of Esbly. There are no more trains! Impossible to leave on foot—the roads are choked with troops and supplies. Moreover, all the bridges are destroyed, the bridge of Lagny along with the rest. So we shall stay. God be merciful to us!
There is no more mail—not the slightest communication with the outside. We are completely cut off from the rest of the world.
The new English General Staff has taken up headquarters at the château of Quincy. The English are camping along State road number 36, between Quincy and Voisins.
The roar of the cannon is coming nearer and nearer. The sound electrifies me. I cannot keep still, but go back and forth from Quincy to Esbly to get news, and more especially to try to send news to my brother. I seem to be the only human being on the roads.
What a feeling of sadness it gives one to go through these empty villages. Every house is like a tomb. But those who have gone did not take away everything. Their hearts and souls remain behind, keeping watch over all that memory holds dear.