driving a cow with them. They went a day's journey, and put up for a few
days at the farm of a friend named Roger. On Sunday the 6th, in the
morning, four Germans arrived at the farm. They went away and came back
again in the afternoon. They called all the inmates of the farm out into
the yard. Denet and Roger appeared. "You were three men this morning,
now you are only two!" said one of the Germans. And immediately they
took the two old men a little distance away, and shot them both, within
half a mile of the farm. The body of Roger was found by his wife the day
after; that of Denet was not discovered for some time. Nobody has any
idea to this day why those men were shot. It is worth while to try and
realise the scene--the terror-stricken old men dragged away by their
murderers--the wives left behind, no doubt under a guard--the sound of
the distant shots--the broken hearts of the widow and the orphan.

But that was a mere prelude.

On Friday, September 4th, a large detachment of Von Kluck's army invaded
Vareddes, coming from Barcy, which lies to the west. It was no doubt
moving towards the Marne on that flank march which was Von Kluck's
undoing. The troops left the village on Saturday the 5th, but only to
make a hurried return that same evening. Von Kluck was already aware of
his danger, and was rapidly recalling troops to meet the advance of
Maunoury. Meanwhile the French Sixth Army was pressing on from the west,
and from the 6th to the 9th there was fierce fighting in and round
Vareddes. There were German batteries behind the Presbytere, and the
church had become a hospital. The old Cure, the Abbe Fossin, at the age
of seventy-eight, spent himself in devoted service to the wounded
Germans who filled it. There were other dressing stations near by. The
Mairie, and the school, were full of wounded, of whom there were
probably some hundreds in the village. Only 135 dead were buried in the
neighbourhood; the Germans carried off the others in great lorries
filled with corpses.

By Monday the 7th, although they were still to hold the village till the
9th, the Germans knew they were beaten. The rage of the great defeat, of
the incredible disappointment, was on them. Only a week before, they had
passed through the same country-side crying "Nach Paris!" and polishing
up buttons, belts, rifles, accoutrements generally, so as to enter the
French capital in _grande tenue._ For whatever might have been the real
plans of the Ger