,
expressed sympathy with France and repugnance at being compelled to take
part in the war. This sentiment was received with gratitude; besides, his
protection might be needful some day or other. By the exercise of tact
the number of men quartered in one's house might be reduced; and why
should one provoke the hostility of a person on whom one's whole welfare
depended? Such conduct would savor less of bravery than of
fool-hardiness. And foolhardiness is no longer a failing of the citizens
of Rouen as it was in the days when their city earned renown by its
heroic defenses. Last of all-final argument based on the national
politeness--the folk of Rouen said to one another that it was only
right to be civil in one's own house, provided there was no public
exhibition of familiarity with the foreigner. Out of doors, therefore,
citizen and soldier did not know each other; but in the house both
chatted freely, and each evening the German remained a little longer
warming himself at the hospitable hearth.

Even the town itself resumed by degrees its ordinary aspect. The French
seldom walked abroad, but the streets swarmed with Prussian soldiers.
Moreover, the officers of the Blue Hussars, who arrogantly dragged their
instruments of death along the pavements, seemed to hold the simple
townsmen in but little more contempt than did the French cavalry officers
who had drunk at the same cafes the year before.

But there was something in the air, a something strange and subtle, an
intolerable foreign atmosphere like a penetrating odor--the odor of
invasion. It permeated dwellings and places of public resort, changed the
taste of food, made one imagine one's self in far-distant lands, amid
dangerous, barbaric tribes.

The conquerors exacted money, much money. The inhabitants paid what was
asked; they were rich. But, the wealthier a Norman tradesman becomes, the
more he suffers at having to part with anything that belongs to him, at
having to see any portion of his substance pass into the hands of
another.

Nevertheless, within six or seven miles of the town, along the course of
the river as it flows onward to Croisset, Dieppedalle and Biessart,
boat-men and fishermen often hauled to the surface of the water the body
of a German, bloated in his uniform, killed by a blow from knife or club,
his head crushed by a stone, or perchance pushed from some bridge into
the stream below. The mud of the river-bed swallowed up these obscure
acts