, slit the draperies and the rich bed coverings. The
owner protested; what was the sense in such useless destruction?
. . . He was suffering unbearable torture at seeing the enormous boots
spotting the rugs with mud, on hearing the clash of guns and knapsacks
against the most fragile, choicest pieces of furniture. Poor historic
mansion! . . .

The officer looked amazed that he should protest for such trifling
cause, but he gave orders in German and his men ceased their rude
explorations. Then, in justification of this extraordinary respect, he
added in French:

"I believe that you are going to have the honor of entertaining here the
general of our division."

The certainty that the castle did not hold any hidden enemies made
him more amiable. He, nevertheless, persisted in his wrath against the
sharpshooters. A group of the villagers had opened fire upon the Uhlans
when they were entering unsuspiciously after the retreat of the French.

Desnoyers felt it necessary to protest. They were neither inhabitants
nor sharpshooters; they were French soldiers. He took good care to be
silent about their presence at the barricade, but he insisted that he
had distinguished their uniforms from a tower of the castle.

The official made a threatening face.

"You, too? . . . You, who appear a reasonable man, can repeat such yarns
as these?" And in order to close the conversation, he said, arrogantly:
"They were wearing uniforms, then, if you persist in saying so, but they
were sharpshooters just the same. The French Government has distributed
arms and uniforms among the farmers that they may assassinate us. . . .
Belgium did the same thing. . . . But we know their tricks, and we know
how to punish them, too!"

The village was going to be burned. It was necessary to avenge the four
German dead lying on the outskirts of Villeblanche, near the barricade.
The mayor, the priest, the principal inhabitants would all be shot.

By the time they reached the top floor Desnoyers could see floating
above the boughs of his park dark clouds whose outlines were reddened
by the sun. The top of the bell tower was the only thing that he could
distinguish at that distance. Around the iron weathercock were flying
long thin fringes like black cobwebs lifted by the breeze. An odor of
burning wood came toward the castle.

The German greeted this spectacle with a cruel smile. Then on descending
to the park, he ordered Desnoyers to follow him. His libe