I run out into the wet grass of the garden to gather all the roses I can find. I hand them to the soldiers as they leave us saying: "From your mothers--from your sisters." Tears come into their eyes, poor fellows! One of the officers takes my hand, kisses it and says: "Your reminding us of our mothers and sisters, Mademoiselle, touches us deeply. It is with much emotion that I tell you, in behalf of my comrades and my men, who are too moved to speak for themselves, how grateful we are for the gracious vision we shall carry away with us to the battlefield with these roses." I am afraid of breaking down, so I turn away abruptly and go to distribute fruit to the soldiers. Several weeks later I received from the mother of one of them a letter thanking me for the kindness I had done in her name. No need to thank me, Madam. In the face of the feelings that stirred me at that hour--feelings that I could not put into words--this act was small indeed. Those brave boys starting forth to face the cannon that boomed so near at hand--how could I make them understand that our prayers were with them--followed them? This poor makeshift was all I could find to let them know at this tragic moment that I longed to serve as a bond between them and their loved ones who were so far away. I could not help thinking, too, that if one of them were to fall, he would at least have this little flower with him, and so be less alone. We were just giving the last fruit and flowers to the late-comers when one of them came to tell us he had left a side of beef in a store-room. "We haven't time to carry this meat to the wagons, so if you do not take it, it will be wasted. It would be a pity if no one used it." What shall we do with it? And to think of those hungry boys who had no supper last night! We hardly know what to do with this enormous piece of meat. But to begin with, there's only one thing to do. My aunt and I carry it with great difficulty to a clean place and, after a fashion, cut off steaks which we broil rapidly and put between slices of bread. The men take eagerly all they can carry of these meat sandwiches and start off on a run to find their chums, who, they say, are going to have a "bully old time" eating them. Things strewn around everywhere indicate the haste of the departure. The cannonade was very heavy again last night. Yesterday--Monday--the battle was stationary. To-day it seems to be farther away; the firing is most intense over towards the Ourcq. After ten o'clock this morning there was not a single shot from the enemy. The English came down from Coutevroult this morning and have crossed the Marne. The French cuirassiers found a few Uhlans at Bouleurs, and cleared them out. [Illustration: Château in the park of the Actors' Home at Couilly. It was there that the commune's first provisional hospital was set up where the English and the French were cared for after the Battle of the Marne]