I agreed with her, and directed her towards the hotel court.  She would take no remuneration and thanking me, hastened on her way.

As I watched her go someone touched me on the arm and asked me if I would go to the town hall; there were two refugees who needed assistance.  There I found a very old couple, brother and sister, the eldest aged ninety-two, the other two years younger.  They were from Mery, had lodged in a private house in Jouy, and were so decrepit that they had not arisen in time to catch the wagons which bore away their fellow townsmen the night before.  That had so upset the old man that he had broken down and lay moaning on the straw, while the mild little woman explained that the being left behind was not what troubled her, but it was her purse and belongings that had been carried off in the carts.

I comforted them as best I could, promising to send them hot milk and biscuits, and wondering what else I could do for them.  Any way they should not starve, as long as we remained in Jouy.

Luncheon was well under way when I returned to the hotel.  In a pot, standing on an iron tripod in the middle of the paved court, a rabbit was gently stewing.  In another, a fricassee of chicken smelled temptingly good.  The women and girls were peeling potatoes and onions, which were to cook in the sauce and a peal of laughter went up from the merry group when a few moments later George and Emile appeared, covered with flour and dough from head to foot, and each bearing a bottle of white wine under his arm.

“What on earth have you boys been up to?”

“Behold in us the city bakers!” said George with a wave of the hand and he and his companion struck an attitude which again drew forth much hilarity from the onlookers.

“It’s no joke—­there wasn’t a baker left in the place, so we found an old fellow who said he’d show us how, and the dough is now setting.  By three o’clock we’ll have fresh bread, you see if we don’t!”

From the window the proprietress and her daughters watched our impromptu kitchen with interest.  We formed such an amusing group that, handing my kodak to Leon, I told him to catch us as I bent over to taste the sauce.

Snap went the shutter!

At that same instant a shriek rose from the interior of the hotel.  Looking up I saw that the proprietress and her two daughters had disappeared.

“Au secours!  Au secours!”

The boys and I made a rush for the house.  As we entered the grande sale, we saw a man bearing a human form in his arms staggering through the door.  Through the blood and dust that smeared the unfortunate boy’s clothing, I recognized the uniform of a chasseur.  Not even an emergency bandage stopped the stream that was flowing from his cheek.

“Quick—­a mattress!” I shouted.

The proprietress stood as though nailed to the doorway leading to the kitchen.