be
true? I back-pedaled and whistled--a long, low, familiar howl greeted my
ears and brought the tears to my eyes.

And then my poor old beagle hound came trotting up the road to welcome
me--his tail wagging joyously and a long frayed cord dangling from his
collar.

This was a relief and somewhat steadied and prepared me for what was to
come. Through a gap in the trees I caught a glimpse of the roofs below.
And so I rounded the corner and started on my last hundred yards.

The broken and tangled grill of our stately gateway told of the
invaders' visit. A few paces further and the chateau come into full
view.

Yes, it was standing, but only the shell of that lovely home I had fled
from but fourteen days before.

Dropping my machine I rushed towards the entrance hall, cast one glance
through the broken panes into the vestibule, and turned away in despair.

All the willful damage that human beings could do had been wrought on
the contents of my home.

The spell was broken. My nerves relaxed and heedless of the filth I
dropped on to the steps and wept.

IX

I think it was the stench from within that first roused me from my grief
and made me realize that this was war and no time for tears. I tried to
comfort myself with the thought that at least I had a roof to cover me,
but this was poor consolation.

Pulling myself together, I started across the lawn towards the village
in search of aid, for a second glance told me that it was useless even
to think of entering the house, so great was the filth and disorder.

Slowly I pushed onward, my head bent, my heart heavy with sorrow and
worry. Twenty paces in front of me I discerned a low mound and then,
horror of horrors, a huge black cross stood forth in the semi-darkness.
A grave--a German grave. Some poor souls interred on my greensward; but
why, since our little cemetery is but a couple of hundred yards up the
road?

Villiers is not a cheerful village even in time of peace, but on this
particular evening (September 14, 1914) it was even darker than ever. My
eyes growing accustomed to the obscurity could see that most of the
houses, though damaged from the battle, were still standing and in one
or two windows the glow of a light gladdened my gaze.

I went straight to the town hall where I pounded on the door and called
my name. A familiar shuffling of feet told me that Monsieur Duguey had
remained faithful to his post as town clerk (the only acting of