Alas! Many of these women, these mothers, these sisters, will all their lives remain fixed in the same attitude—waiting. By force of habit, through the long years, each of them will keep her ear strained for the footsteps on the road, her eye fastened on the door, hoping against hope to see her loved one enter there.
The State road is full of troops, marching in close formation. The ranks extend from the foot of Couilly hill as far as the eye can reach, in the direction of Meaux, along the streets of Voisins and Quincy. The 8th Division of the 4th Army Corps, the 115th, 117th, and 124th regulars, the 148th, 246th, etc., cavalry goes towards Charny.
A captain asks me to show him the road to Saint-Fiacre. While I give him the information he wants, I walk along a moment beside his horse. This movement of troops interests me.
Before leaving me, he expresses his surprise that I should be here all alone, and asks if I am not afraid.
"No," I answered, "I am not afraid. Perhaps I shall be, later. Do you think, Captain, that there is still danger? The Germans are falling back, aren't they?"
"Yes, but who can tell? Tomorrow you might see very ugly things. They are not far away yet."
"They evacuated Penchard yesterday, didn't they?"
"Yes, and they left behind them unspeakably foul traces of their Kultur."