“But,” she insisted, “you cannot save your house by staying.  We are in the same position.  Our house is full of all the souvenirs of my father’s family.  It is hard to leave all that—­but I am afraid—­terribly afraid for the children.”

I could not help asking her how she proposed to get away.  So far as I knew there was not a carriage to be had.

She replied that we could start on foot in the direction of Melun, and perhaps find an automobile:  we could share the expense.  Together we could find a way, and what was more, that I could share my optimism and courage with them and that would help.

That made me laugh, but I didn’t think it necessary to explain to her that, once away from the shelter of my own walls, I should be just as liable to a panic as any one else, or that I knew we should not find a conveyance, or, worse still, that her money and her jewels would hardly be safe inside her corset if she were to meet with some of the Uhlans who were still about us.

Amelie had not allowed me to carry a sou on me, nor even my handbag since we knew they were here.  Such things as that have been hidden-all ready to be snatched up—­ever since I came home from Paris last Wednesday—­only four days ago, after all!

Poor Mile.  Henriette went away sadly when she was convinced that my mind was made up.

“Good-bye,” she called over the hedge.  “I seem to be always taking leave of you.”

I did not tell Amelie anything about this conversation.  What was the good?  I fancy it would have made no difference to her.  I knew pretty well to what her mind was made up.  Nothing in the world would have made Pere budge.  He had tried it in 1870, and had been led to the German post with a revolver at his head.  He did not have any idea of repeating the experience.  It was less than half an hour later that Mile.  Henriette came up the hill again.  She was between tears and laughter.

“Mother will not go,” she said.  “She says if you can stay we must.  She thinks staying is the least of two evils.  We can hide the babies in the cave if necessary, and they may be as safe there as on the road.”

I could not help saying that I should be sorry if my decision influenced theirs.  I could be responsible for myself.  I could not bear to have to feel any responsibility for others in case I was wrong.  But she assured me that her mother had been of my opinion from the first.  “Only,” she added, “if I could have coaxed you to go, she would have gone too.”

This decision did not add much to my peace of mind all that long Sunday.  It seems impossible that it was only day before yesterday.  I think the suspense was harder to bear than that of the day before, though all we could see of the battle were the dense clouds of smoke rising straight into the air behind the green hill under such a blue sky all aglow with sunshine, with the incessant booming of the cannon, which made the contrasts simply monstrous.