“There you are!” said the German officer roughly. “I am sending you to Gonesse, where you will find the provision train which starts in an hour. I am recommending you to the care of the station-master, the Commandant X. After that may God take care of you!” I stepped into the general’s carriage, and said farewell to my friend, who was in despair. We arrived at Gonesse, and got out at the station, where we saw a little group of people talking in low voices. The coachman made me a military salute, refused what I wished to give him, and drove away at full speed. I advanced towards the group, wondering to whom I ought to speak, when a friendly voice exclaimed, “What, you here! Where have you come from? Where are you going?” It was Villaret, the tenor in vogue at the Opéra. He was going to his young wife, I believe, of whom he had had no news for five months. He introduced one of his friends, who was travelling with him, and whose name I do not remember; General Pelissier’s son, and a very old man, so pale, and so sad-looking and woebegone, that I felt quite sorry for him. He was a M. Gerson, and was going to Belgium to take his grandson to his godmother’s. His two sons had been killed during this pitiful war. One of the sons was married, and his wife had died of sorrow and despair. He was taking the orphan boy to his godmother, and he hoped to die himself as soon as possible afterwards. Ah, the poor fellow, he was only fifty-nine then, and he was so cruelly ravaged by his grief that I took him for seventy. Besides these five persons, there was an unbearable chatterer named Théodore Joussian, a wine dealer. Oh, he did not require any introduction. “How do you do, Madame?” he began. “How fortunate that you are going to travel with us. Ah, the journey will be a difficult one. Where are you going? Two women alone! It is not at all prudent, especially as all the routes are crowded with German and French sharpshooters, marauders, and thieves. Oh, haven’t I demolished some of those German sharpshooters! Sh—— We must speak quietly, though; these sly fellows are very quick of hearing!” He then pointed to the German officers who were walking up and down. “Ah, the rascals!” he went on. “If I had my uniform and my gun they would not walk so boldly in front of Théodore Joussian. I have no fewer than six helmets at home....” The man got on my nerves, and I turned my back on him and looked to see which of the men before me could be the station-master. A tall young German, with his arm in a sling, came towards me with an open letter. It was the one which the general’s coachman had handed to him, recommending me to his care. He held out his sound arm to me, but I refused it. He bowed and led the way, and I followed him, accompanied by Mlle. Soubise.