It is impossible, even if we wished it, to leave by way of Esbly. There are no more trains! Impossible to leave on foot--the roads are choked with troops and supplies. Moreover, all the bridges are destroyed, the bridge of Lagny along with the rest. So we shall stay. God be merciful to us! There is no more mail--not the slightest communication with the outside. We are completely cut off from the rest of the world. The new English General Staff has taken up headquarters at the château of Quincy. The English are camping along State road number 36, between Quincy and Voisins. The roar of the cannon is coming nearer and nearer. The sound electrifies me. I cannot keep still, but go back and forth from Quincy to Esbly to get news, and more especially to try to send news to my brother. I seem to be the only human being on the roads. What a feeling of sadness it gives one to go through these empty villages. Every house is like a tomb. But those who have gone did not take away everything. Their hearts and souls remain behind, keeping watch over all that memory holds dear. VIII 4 September, 1914. THE booming of cannon is still very near. Scarcely anyone is left in the neighborhood. The butcher has gone. Fortunately, the baker is staying, and as long as the flour holds out we shall have bread. If this state of isolation lasts long, it is proposed to kill and divide up the pet horse to feed those who are still here. Poor beast! I hope we shall not come to that pass. I feel a sort of gratitude to him. The few people still remaining in Quincy and Voisins seem to make one big family. We live almost in common. The town-crier, Marin, with the help of Pron, the road-maker, kill and distribute an ox that was left behind by a refugee. Mirat, the carpenter, goes a long distance now and again to get provisions of some kind, and so renders us a very great service. Everyone is doing something to help everyone else,--holding his neighbor by the hand, as it were. But we must try to find some sort of shelter, in case, owing to our position, we should be exposed to a bombardment. Near by are deep spacious wine-cellars, which with their massive arches look like vast cloisters. We prepare provisions and carry them to these cellars, so that we can take refuge there if need be. One of my aunts said she knew a very safe place where we could go if for any reason we were obliged to leave both the house and the cellar. It is one of the most isolated nooks in the plaster quarries, and is in the form of a trench. It would be impossible to find us there.