look to you
for protection! You cannot desert them; you must go!"

I looked at Madame Guix.

"Go, Madame Huard, you must. You owe it to the others. None of you
need me and I can be of service here, so if the sisters will keep me
I'll stay."

Reluctantly I shook hands with my nurse, and hastened down the steps.
Maitre Baudoin and his wife took leave of me at the comer, and I elbowed
my way between the horses of a cavalry regiment, whose riders were sound
asleep on the hard cobble pavement beside them.

On the further side of the square noisy rolling sounds told me that the
artillery was crossing the city, and mounting a doorstep, I beheld
battery after battery of the famous Seventy-fives clattering out of
sight over the road we had come by in the morning. When I got down, I
found my way blocked by the 18th Chasseurs a cheval, who, four abreast
and lance in hand, were setting out for battle. They were anything but
a beaten army--most of them were softly humming some popular song, while
others were calmly filling their pipes and still others catching forty
winks in their saddles. One or two I noticed wore no caps, and their
heads were bound in blood-stained bandages.

There seemed to be no end to them and I was beginning to get anxious
about our departure. Plunging my hand into my coat pocket I touched a
piece of stale bread and a bit of chocolate, forgotten since the day
before, and hunger having seized me, I began gnawing my crust.

"Say, sister, give us a bite," called one young chap from his horse as
he passed.

"Are you really hungry?"

"You bet!"

Without hesitating I offered my crust.

"Hurray for the girl with the red scarf!" called another. "Come on with
us. We'll make room for you." "We need a mascot," and other similar
jolly phrases passed from mouth to mouth as gaily the flower of young
France went forth to death.

When finally they had disappeared I rushed across the street to find
George and Emile (H.'s messenger) engaged in a conversation with the
driver of an army supply wagon drawn up within an inch of the bakery
steps. Beside him on the seat sat a huge dragoon, his bead done up in a
blood-stained towel.

"We're lost," he was explaining. "Been cut off from our regiment for
three days."

"Poor regiment!" I murmured, and calling the boys, I told Emile to wake
the others and come down quickly to help hitch the horses. He was only
gone a second, and I could hear him calling.

"_