ful sleep, while the _melee_ of tangled wire and iron
which had once been machines, as well as blood-stained garments, bits of
shell, and even human flesh, made a gruesome and indescribable picture.

Souvenirs? The idea never entered my head. And my kodak, which I had
been so prompt to use to commemorate various events, seemed a vulgar,
inquisitive instrument, and was left unheeded in the bottom of the cart.
Each step brought us face to face with the horrors of warfare. Towards
Villeroy a number of battered Parisian taxicabs gave us the first hint
of General Gallieni's clever maneuver which helped save the capital--and
then the wind brought towards us a nauseating odor, which paralyzed our
appetites, and sent us doggedly onwards: the stench of the battlefield.

The girls in the cart drew closer together, shivering, though the air
was warm and muggy. Even old Cesar seemed to feel the awe of that
Valley of Shadow, and no one murmured as we passed the first bloated
carcasses of dead horses and came upon that far more horrid sight--human
bodies--swelled to twice their natural size, lying as death had met
them, some in piles, others farther apart--all unrecognizable, but once
proud mothers' petted darlings. I think they were our enemies. I did
not stop to investigate; the flies bothered us so terribly, and long low
mounds with red kepis piled upon them told of the graves of France's
defenders. Far ahead I could discover groups of men with shovels,
hastily burying those who remained. To the right a lazy column of dense
smoke rose reluctantly in the heavy air. I fancied it came from a
funeral pyre; we certainly smelled tar and petrol. The ground beneath
rocked with the thundering of the distant cannon, and as one peal burst
louder a flock of jet black crows mounted heavenward, mournfully cawing
in the semi-twilight.

So we continued, a silent, foot-sore, rain-soaked community. With the
growing remoteness of imminent danger came the reaction of all we had
passed through, and deep down in our hearts we welcomed the idea of
entering a village.

A village! Alas! As we reached the road leading to Barcy, there was a
rift in the clouds, and a long golden ray shot through an enormous
breach in the church tower, flickered a moment upon a group of roofless
houses, and was gone. Night closed in.

Our spirits sank. Yvonne began to moan with agony, her sciatica had
returned with the dampness, and Nini for some unknown re