And still rations do not come. The men are too tired to wait, and lie down to sleep supperless in any sheltered spot they can find.
The few who are not completely exhausted make a descent on the houses that are inhabited. They fall upon our garden and clean out our larder. The salad bowl and kettles not being large enough, they season and mix a huge salad in tubs and washboilers. It is all they will have to eat this evening.
Scarcely anyone was courageous enough to wait for rations, which were delayed by the block on the roads and did not arrive until nearly ten o'clock. Not a single man gets up.
The battle lasted very late last night.
The officers went up on the plateau of Huiry to follow the artillery duel that was in progress, and they found it amazing.
On one of my trips to-day I had the good luck to meet one of the few civilians. It is a man who has come from Chelles on foot. He has heard that Meaux, Crécy, Coulommiers and all the neighboring villages have been put to fire and sword. He wanted to see his people who live in this region. He had to swim across the Marne, and was obliged to go over and back several times in order to bring his clothing.
He is to return to Paris by the same route. I gave him several letters which he was kind enough to take charge of. They are not of great importance—mostly messages to my friends from whom I feel so cut off at this moment, but I want very much to set my brother's mind at rest as to the fate of his children. The thought of his anxiety makes me unhappy.