ase and produced my card and my pastry
baker. He understood in a moment, and hastily discharged my custodians.

"I cannot scold them. They're over zealous, but we've been so horribly
betrayed all along. You understand, I'm sure. Please accept my
apologies, Madame!"

I bowed and he departed. Then I turned to my friend.

"You've heard the news, I suppose, Madame?"

"No--what?"

She suddenly grew white.

"Quick--out with it, woman!"

She hesitated.

"Is H.--?"

"_Non_, not that, Madame, but a quarter of an hour ago it was noised
about that the enemy are still retreating, and that we were pounding
into their headquarters--le chateau de Villiers."

I felt myself whitening. The woman saw it, and catching me by the arm.
"Come, come," she said. "You're tired; perhaps it isn't true, so many
false alarms have been launched. Come and have a cup of coffee--you'll
excuse our back room--it's all we have left."

I gladly followed her, picking my way through what had once been one of
the most enticing of provincial pastry shops, the good soul apologizing
all the time, as if she had been responsible for the damage. As she
prattled on, though my own brain was swimming I now and then grasped
such phrases as three days of looting, two days' bombardment. As she
passed me a cup of coffee, she explained that the invaders had not been
satisfied with violently appropriating all personal articles which they
had found to their liking, but after having drunk all the wine in the
cellars, they had willfully cut open the bags of flour and thrown it
pell-mell in every direction.

"And, Madame, they got into my reserve of eggs--five thousand of them--"
she wept, "five thousand! All my winter's store. I wouldn't have
minded if they had eaten them but to see them purposely crushed and
wasted. Two of those wretches spent half a day bringing them up from
the cellar in their helmets, and then dragging me out, would hurl them
at the walls and windows, savagely rejoicing in my distress!"

I couldn't remain indoors--I had but one thought--get to Villiers or see
someone who knew for certain what had happened there.

Again I crossed the shop, paddling through that sticky yellow slime in
which bits of furniture and clothing floated like croutons in a gigantic
nauseating omelet.

Outside, towards the end of the street that opened on to the quay, great
animation reigned. A bugle sounded and I could hear the tramp of
soldiers' feet.