From now on we shall see no more Germans.
Troops are beginning to arrive. A regiment of infantry went through Voisins this afternoon. These men have come on foot from Paris. What a fearful march! They still have several miles to go before reaching a cantonment. Some of them drag themselves along painfully, their faces streaming with perspiration, their legs tottering under their weight, staggering like drunken men. Others, with a show of cheerfulness, hum marching songs to keep up their courage, but what a monotonous sound it is!
They are hot and thirsty, poor boys! They need something to drink. We go out with a pitcher of fruit syrup and water. They are not allowed to stop, so we follow on beside them and fill their cups which they take out hastily as soon as they catch sight of us. It seems to please them and renew their courage.
My little nieces are with us. The eldest, aged three, is holding up fruit which she takes from "Gamma's ba'ket." One of the men, as if to find new strength in the touch of her fresh childish cheeks, asks if he may kiss her, saying with tears in his eyes: "I have a little girl of my own at home about her age, with light hair like hers." Several of the men kiss her as they march along, and it makes them happy.
Poor things! Will they ever see again those little ones of whom our children remind them?
At the same moment, in a far-off home, the mother presses close to her breast her youngest born, who is asleep. The child stirs slightly. A gentle breath moves her fair curls. Do not waken, little one. Thy father kisses thee.
The mother's face is growing worn. The sister is silent. The bride-to-be is on her knees. They all have but one thought--the Absent One!
How many among those men who are marching by will see their own again?
Alas! Many of these women, these mothers, these sisters, will all their lives remain fixed in the same attitude--waiting. By force of habit, through the long years, each of them will keep her ear strained for the footsteps on the road, her eye fastened on the door, hoping against hope to see her loved one enter there.
The State road is full of troops, marching in close formation. The ranks extend from the foot of Couilly hill as far as the eye can reach, in the direction of Meaux, along the streets of Voisins and Quincy. The 8th Division of the 4th Army Corps, the 115th, 117th, and 124th regulars, the 148th, 246th, etc., cavalry goes towards Charny.