"Little lady, there is danger everywhere between Paris and the Channel. Personally--since you have stayed until getting away will be difficult--I do not really believe that there is any reason why you should not stick it out. You may have a disagreeable time. But I honestly believe you are running no real risk of having more than that. At all events, I am going to do what I can to assure your personal safety. As we understand it--no one really knows anything except the orders given out--it is not intended that the Germans shall cross the Marne here. But who knows? Anyway, if I move on, each division of the Expeditionary Force that retreats to this hill will know that you are here. If it is necessary, later, for you to leave, you will be notified and precautions taken for your safety. You are not afraid?" I could only tell him, "Not yet," but I could not help adding, "Of course I am not so stupid as to suppose for a moment that you English have retreated here to amuse yourselves, or that you have dragged your artillery up the hill behind me just to exercise your horses or to give your gunners a pretty promenade." He threw back his head and laughed aloud for the first time, and I felt better. "Precautions do not always mean a battle, you know"; and as he rose to his feet he called my attention to a hole in his coat, saying, "It was a miracle that I came through Saint-Quentin with a whole skin. The bullets simply rained about me. It was pouring--I had on a mackintosh--which made me conspicuous as an officer, if my height had not exposed me. Every German regiment carries a number of sharpshooters whose business is to pick off the officers. However, it was evidently not my hour." As we walked out to the gate I asked him if there was anything else I could do for him. "Do you think," he replied, "that you could get me a couple of fresh eggs at half-past seven and let me have a cold wash-up?" "Well, rather," I answered, and he rode away. As soon as he was gone one of the picket called from the road to know if they could have "water and wash." I told them of course they could--to come right in. He said that they could not do that, but that if they could have water at the gate--and I did not mind--they could wash up in relays in the road. So Pere came and drew buckets and buckets of water, and you never saw such a stripping and such a slopping, as they washed and shaved--and with such dispatch. They had just got through, luckily, when, at about half-past six, the captain rode hurriedly down the hill again. He carried a slip of white paper in his hand, which he seemed intent on deciphering. As I met him at the gate he said:-- "Sorry I shall miss those eggs--I've orders to move east," and he began to round up his men. I foolishly asked him why. I felt as if I were losing a friend. "Orders," he answered. Then he put the slip of paper into his pocket, and leaning down he said:--