But we shall have to give up that "very safe place." My aunt came in a little while ago much excited. She has discovered that her hiding-place is inhabited! And by whom? By the Boches themselves! She saw their heads emerging from this kind of trench. They had carefully covered their shining helmets with grass. There were ten or more of them, and several cavalrymen farther on. Perhaps it would be prudent to bury some of our things. I ask one of our old friends to help me dig a hole in the garden. We have planned to dig it this evening. Meanwhile, I go to the hospital at Quincy, reaching there just as Sister Jules and Sister Marie are getting ready to go to Pont-aux-Dames. Sister Jules has arranged all her dressings and surgical instruments with the most painstaking care.[1] [Illustration: _Route national_ from Couilly to the Demi-Lune, a hard, straight hill, over a mile and a quarter long] The road is almost deserted, except for an occasional refugee who goes by on foot. The English are digging trenches at Demi-Lune in Mareuil Street, near the State road. Trenches are being made also beyond the Quincy plaster quarry, near the road to Mont and at Ségy. There is an encampment in the plain in front of the park of the château. It is meal time. With very evident pleasure the men are eating raw tomatoes. They are also taking great satisfaction in some jam that looks most appetizing. The jam comes in large cans decorated with pictures of the fruit of which it is made. Every little while the earth trembles under our feet. We now hear cannon booming all around us. This morning I saw a man who has just been to Meaux. He tells me that as he was going along the Magny road, in a place called Pageotte, a German automobile stopped in front of the demolished bridge. An officer got out and angrily inquired of several bystanders if it was long since the bridge had been destroyed. "Yes, yesterday," they answered. "Then," said he, "what happened to the patrol that was ordered to go this way this morning?" "The men swam over, together with their horses." Not being able to cross over himself the officer ordered his chauffeur to turn back. He was escorted by two soldiers carrying rifles. This evening there is very little bread in the neighborhood. I meet a tall young Englishman looking for bread for himself and his comrades. I think there is some at home, so I tell him to follow me. When we reach the door, he refuses to come in and I have to hand him the bread through the window. We have very little left. Will the baker make more to-morrow? He carries off the bread, but is especially happy at being given some raw tomatoes. Always tomatoes! There is nothing you can give them that pleases them so much. But you have to hand them out through the window. One of the men who speaks very good French tells us they are under strict orders not to go inside a house on any pretext whatsoever. And they obey implicitly.