Certainly—­and a half-hour later one of the largest farms in France had been moved bodily into my pasture land!  The whole thing was conducted in a very orderly manner by M. La Miche, who on horseback drew up the rear of this immense cavalcade composed of some two hundred white oxen, hitched two abreast, seventy or eighty horses, as many mares with young colts, and heaven knows how many cows and calves; all accompanied by the stable bands.  Poor tired beasts, how greedily they drank the cool water of our spring, and how willingly the cunning little colts, whose tender hoofs had been worn to the quick by their unheard-of journey, allowed the men to tie up their feet in coarse linen bandages with strips of old carpet for protection.

Madame La Miche had been officially evacuated at noon, so I did not hesitate to tell her what I had heard.  She was not surprised, and said she intended leaving at midnight, but her animals, unaccustomed to such exercise, must have a few hours’ rest.

In the kitchen I found George and Leon, who had accomplished their task sooner than I expected.  Relying on their word that it was impossible to tell where they had buried the trunks, I did not go back to the sand quarry.  Half a mile was a distance to be considered, under the circumstances.

While all this had been going on, Madame Guix had taken Julie into her confidence and asked her if she would follow us if we were obliged to leave.  Julie is a native of Villiers, and her husband and children live in a little house near by.  She had consulted her lord and they were willing to lend their big dray horse if they could all join our party.  Of course we agreed and while it was light, we decided to put some bags of oats into the bottom of our hay cart, to cover these with hay, and then all the servants could pile on, the boys taking turns at walking since Yvonne must have room to be stretched out.

How I hated all this business!  Madame Guix then counted the number of persons composing our party, and sent Nini to fetch as many blankets and pillows.  These, with a box containing salt, sugar, chocolate, and other dry provisions, a valise packed with a few bandages and a little medicine, were put onto a little light farm-cart to which we might harness Cesar in case of great emergency.

The two vehicles when loaded were run into an empty carriage house, whose door I locked, rather ashamed of my precautions.

Night had fallen and the incoming stream of refugees demanded our every attention.  Madame Guix was occupied with two women whose physical condition was such that it was impossible to refuse them beds, come what might—­and as I crossed the vestibule in search of some instruments, the shadow of a woman and two little girls came up the steps.  “Could I give them lodgings?” begged the poor soul.  I looked at her—­she was so frightened that it was most pathetic, and the two curly-beaded children clung to her skirts and shivered.