“This is no time for sprees,” wept Julia.

“Father Poupard,” admonished his irate mate, brandishing a spade, “Father Poupard, mind what I say!”

And then in a more moderate tone, but which was distinctly audible some thirty yards away, “I’ve put a bottle into your lunch basket.  You won’t need to buy anything more.”

There was a distinct emphasis on the word buy, which told me that mother Poupard, evidently accustomed to her husband’s ways, had provided plentifully for his journey but had carefully emptied his pockets before he started.

I went back to my preserves, but as the day wore on the lack of all communication with the outside world began to prey on me.  Towards four o’clock I took my bicycle and started down to Charly.  A quarter of a mile from our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason had driven two huge posts, into the ground on either side of the road, and was swinging a heavy chain between them.

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who stood in the doorway surveying the work.  He explained that he had received instructions to the effect that all passers-by unknown to this village were to be stopped and asked for their papers.  The men and boys who remained were to take turns mounting guard, and thus to help to eradicate the circulation of spies.  Two suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had already been signaled.  Should they appear and fail to produce their papers, immediate arrest would follow.  Should they offer the slightest opposition or attempt escape, the sentinels had orders to shoot.

I enquired if it would be necessary for we to have a sauf-conduit, being bound for Charly, and possibly the station at Nogent, where I hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would throw me a newspaper.

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly present me with the first passport, and seemed wonderfully taken with my idea about the papers.  He admitted that living in darkness was beginning to get on his nerves, too, and asked me, in case my plan should prove successful, if I would be willing to put it on the public sign board so all could see the news.  I acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a few questions as to names, age, characteristics and destination, he stamped the seal on my paper, and I departed.

At Charly the same preparations had been made, and two elderly men, leaning on their guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their inspection.

At the hotel, the proprietor had just returned after having waited nearly twenty-four hours in line to present his machines.  All save one had been bought for the army.  But with his double-seated taxi he promised to drive me to Soissons the following morning.

I continued my road, and reached Nogent to find that I was not alone in my idea about begging the papers.  Several others from neighboring villages, so I heard, had already succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and had driven off hastily with their trophies.  My proceeding was very simple.  It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by.  Then as it whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, “Les journaux!  Les jour-naux!”