At the bridge of Neuilly my fiacre was stopped, but having explained to the commander of the picket that I wanted to take a walk, and shown my papers, for some reason best known to himself, he allowed me to go forward on foot.

In Courbevoie all the houses were shut up, except those occupied by troops, and the windows of these were filled with sandbags.

Right and left trees were being cut down, and every moment some old poplar was brought to the ground.

I passed through Courbevoie, as no one seemed to notice me, and held on to the right until I struck Asnieres.

It is a species of French Greenwich, full of hotels, tea-gardens, and restaurants.