Strange placidity! the immediate countryside for miles around having
long since been delivered up to brutal destruction, wanton waste,
hideous massacre, and a goodly number of the churches of which the
pious man was taking so much pains to record the history, were now but
anonymous heaps of stone.

All the way home I could not refrain from philosophising on the
happiness of life, perfect contentment, and the love of good. My
reflections, while perhaps not particularly deep nor brilliant, were
none the less imbued with a sense of gratitude to the Almighty, and
filled with pity and respect for poor human nature.

It is certain that for such people, the idea of escaping the terrors,
the dangers and the sight of most horrible spectacles, had not weighed
an instant in the balance against the repugnance of altering life-long
habits, or abandoning an assemblage of dearly beloved landscapes and
faces.

Naturally enough, a certain number of commercial minded had remained
behind, tempted by the possibility of abnormal gain through catering to
the soldier; and to whatever had been their habitual merchandise, was
soon added a stock of mandolins, accordions, cheap jewelry, kit bags,
fatigue caps and calico handkerchiefs--in fact all that indispensable,
gaudy trumpery that serves to attract a clientele uniquely composed of
warriors.

But, besides these merchants, there were still to be counted a certain
number of well-to-do citizens, professors, government employes, priests
and magistrates, all simple honest souls who had stayed because they
were unable to resign themselves to an indefinite residence away from
Soissons, and there was no sacrifice to which they were not resolved in
advance, so long as it procured them the joy of remaining.

I accompanied the President of the local French Red Cross Chapter on a
visit to a lady who was much interested in an _ouvroir_, and who lived
in a splendid old mansion located near the ruins of the Palais de
Justice.

The little bell tinkled several times, resounding clearly in the
deathlike silence, and presently a young maid-servant made her
appearance at a small door that opened in the heavy portico.

"Is Madame at home?"

"Oh, no, Madame! Why didn't Madame know that both Monsieur and Madame
left for the seashore last evening? Shall I give Madame their address
at Houlgate? They've been going there for the last twenty years. They
will be back the first of September as usual."

"