“Perhaps—­”

“Besides, I can’t go.  I’ve got a hospital on my hands, though the wounded are lacking.  Haven’t you seen our Red Cross flag?  And if that isn’t sufficient, I can prove that I’m an American born.  That ought to be protection enough for anyone!”

I must admit that the incredulous smile that rose to his lips rather angered me, and I sought still another excuse.

“Furthermore, one of my little maids is too ill to move, and I don’t see us walking off with folded arms, and that’s what would happen if I followed your advice, for the only horse the Army has left me is over twenty and so lame that he can’t walk two steps.  If he could I’d have had to present him for the second inspection at Chateau Thierry on Wednesday.”

The poor fellow shook his head at my apparent foolhardiness, but was too polite to argue further.  He said that his party would be off in an hour and asked me if I possessed a road-map that he might consult.  I gladly showed him the one we had bought with H. the day of our hasty trip from Paris, since then pinned to the wall of the refectory.  I noticed that he studied it very carefully, noting all the little sidetracks where he thought his drays could pass, and thus avoid following in line behind the thousands of other vehicles that encumbered the main roads.

Again he thanked me for all I had done, caressed my beautiful greyhounds, and left me his card so that we might meet when all was over.  Afterwards when I went into the court, I heard someone in the stable with George, and looking in, I saw my friend of a few moments before examining my horse’s hoof and telling my boy what would make the sore heal quickly.  He was bound to do his best for me!

By five o’clock the stables and grounds were empty, and our friends gone.  Hanzinell had joined the column which had slackened a bit during the heat of the day, but had redoubled in volume since the sun had gone behind the hills.

We had a moment’s breathing space, during which we gave our entire attention to Yvonne, who was writhing with agony on her bed next my room.  For three days now Madame Guix had administered mild doses of morphine, but that treatment could not continue very long.  Water bags, friction and massage had proved fruitless against sciatica, so we resolved to try a warm bath, with the result that our patient was almost immediately eased but too weak to support the heat.  She fainted in the tub and had to be carried back to bed.  We were still working over her when Nini appeared and said I was wanted below.  When Yvonne’s eyelashes began to flutter, I left Madame Guix and regained the kitchen, now become the head-quarters.

More refugees!  Would I let them come in?  They were traveling without a map or guide and dared not venture along the roads at night.