At last they crossed the bridge.  Sappers had been at work on it for some time, and the preparations to blow it up after they had passed were almost complete.  The first sight of interest was the railway station, which was filled with what appeared to the Subaltern to be double-decked trains.  Evidently a French army had detrained here.

The Column swung suddenly round a corner and they were almost staggered with the sight of the cathedral towering above them.  To an eye used exclusively to the sight of the dour British edifice, there is something very fascinating about a foreign cathedral such as this.  There is something more daring about the style of architecture, something more flamboyant, and yet more solid.  The cathedral seemed vaguely indicative of the past grandeur of the Catholic Church.  Bathed in the early morning sunlight it appeared to exult over the mean smallness of the houses that clustered at its feet.

Beyond the cathedral there is nothing at all extraordinary about Meaux.  Many months afterwards one of his nurses told him in hospital that she had spent a long time in that very street.  She had been with her father, the erstwhile Colonel of a line regiment, and a specialist in strategy, who for the pure love of the thing had laboriously gained permission to stay at Meaux and visit the famous battlefields of the Marne.  She said they had been in the very room where General Joffre met Field-Marshal French, and had bought the very teapot in which their tea was brewed.  She rather wondered how many more of these “very” teapots had been sold at fancy prices!

If Von Kluck made a forward thrust at Paris before his sidelong movement to the south-east, it was undoubtedly made at Meaux, which was the scene of some terrific combats.

Emerging from the town, the Column branched off in a south-easterly direction, and ascended the sides of a very steep plateau.  Having reached the flat ground at the top, a midday halt was made in the pleasant grounds of yet another chateau.

This fresh move was discussed a great deal as the men lay at full length in the shade of the trees.  Evidently there was to be no siege of Paris.  They were marching directly away from Paris.  What did it mean?  They would get to Marseilles in a fortnight at this rate, and then the only thing to do would be to wire for the Fleet, and be taken safely home to their mammas!

The march went on through the stifling heat of the afternoon, and the Subaltern knew that he, and most of the men as well, were feeling about as bad as it is possible to feel without fainting.  They marched through a very dense wood, and then out once more into the open.  Even the longest day has its ending, and at last they found themselves halted in the usual lines of companies in the usual stubble field.  A Taube flew overhead and all sorts of fire were concentrated on it.