Every little while the earth trembles under our feet. We now hear cannon booming all around us.
This morning I saw a man who has just been to Meaux. He tells me that as he was going along the Magny road, in a place called Pageotte, a German automobile stopped in front of the demolished bridge. An officer got out and angrily inquired of several bystanders if it was long since the bridge had been destroyed.
"Yes, yesterday," they answered.
"Then," said he, "what happened to the patrol that was ordered to go this way this morning?"
"The men swam over, together with their horses."
Not being able to cross over himself the officer ordered his chauffeur to turn back. He was escorted by two soldiers carrying rifles.
This evening there is very little bread in the neighborhood. I meet a tall young Englishman looking for bread for himself and his comrades. I think there is some at home, so I tell him to follow me. When we reach the door, he refuses to come in and I have to hand him the bread through the window. We have very little left. Will the baker make more to-morrow? He carries off the bread, but is especially happy at being given some raw tomatoes. Always tomatoes! There is nothing you can give them that pleases them so much. But you have to hand them out through the window. One of the men who speaks very good French tells us they are under strict orders not to go inside a house on any pretext whatsoever. And they obey implicitly.
Another man comes and asks us for a crucifix. He manages to explain to me that he is engaged to be married, that perhaps to-morrow he will be killed, and he wants to send a souvenir to his young lady. We are glad to give him one. Before he goes, he wraps up his parcel, and in return offers to forward a letter to my brother by one of their messengers.
At nightfall a platoon of English come down from Huiry to search the Aulnois woods. Germans have been seen there.