The excitement of the day had been such that after a very hasty meal we retired exhausted at an early hour.  The night was still—­so still that though four miles from the station we could hear the roar of the trains as they passed along the river front.

“Hark!” said H.  “How close together they are running!”

We timed them.  Scarcely a minute between each.  Then, our ears becoming accustomed, we were soon able to distinguish the passenger from the freight trains, as well as the empty ones returning to Paris.

“Listen!  Those last two were for the troops!  That one is for the ammunition.  Oh, what a heavy one!  It must be for the artillery!” And we fell asleep before the noise ceased.  Indeed for three long weeks there was no end to it, as night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its human freight towards the Eastern frontier.

Sunday morning, August second, found us all at our posts as the sun rose.  Elizabeth and I drove down to Charly for eight o’clock mass, and all along the road met men and boys on their way to the station.  The church was full, but there were only women and elderly men in the assembly; why, we knew but too well, and many wives and mothers had come there to hide their grief.  Our curate was a very old man, and the news had given him such a shock that he was unable to say a word after reaching the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with the tears streaming down his face for nearly five minutes—­finally retiring without uttering a sound.  Not exactly the most fortunate thing that could have happened, for his attitude encouraged others to give way to their emotions, and there was a most impressive silence followed by much sniffling and nose-blowing!  All seemed better, though, after the shower, and the congregation disbanded with a certain sense of relief.

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a stock of everything she dispensed.

“You see,” said he, “we’re now cut off from all resources.  There are no big cities where we can get supplies, within driving reach, and our grocers will have nothing to sell once their stock is exhausted.  We’re living in the hope that the mobilization will last three weeks.  That will you do if it lasts longer?  It never hurts to have a supply on hand!”

“All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been put aside for the army.  I was ordered to do that this morning—­but come around to the back door and I’ll see what I can do for you,” said my amiable grocery-woman.

“That’s pleasant,” thought I.  “No gasoline—­no motor—­no electricity!  Privation is beginning early.  But why grumble!  We’ll go to bed with the chickens and won’t miss it!”

Madame Leger and I made out a long list of groceries and household necessities, and she set to work weighing and packing, and finally began piling the bundles into the trap drawn up close to her side door.

Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised by the load he had to carry home, but Elizabeth and I decided that a “bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and one never could tell what astonishing “order” to-morrow might bring forth.