think it an exciting adventure to be here in
the great cellar, making picnic meals by the light of a dim lamp. My
little boy amused himself by playing canes (hop-scotch), and my
daughter was very cheerful. Still, after a little while we suffered. I had
forgotten to bring down water or wine, and we also craved for
something more comforting than cold sardines. In spite of the noise
of houses falling into ruins--and at any moment mine might fall above
my head--I went upstairs and began to cook some macaroni. I had to
retreat in a hurry, as a shell burst quite close to my house, and for a
moment I thought that I should be buried under my own roof. But I
went up again in one of the intervals of silence, found the macaroni
cooked to a turn and even ventured to peep out of doors. There I saw
a dreadful sight. The whole of the Grande Place was littered with
broken roofs and shattered walls, and several of the houses were
burning furiously. From other parts of the town there came up great
volumes of smoke and the red glare of flames."

For three days Mme. Duterque kept to her cellar. Unknown to herself,
her husband, who had come from Boulogne to rescue her, was
watching the battle from one of the heights outside the town, which he
was forbidden to enter by the soldiers. On a Thursday morning she
resolved to leave the shelter of her underground vault. News had
been brought to her by a daring neighbour that the Germans had
worked round by the railway station and might enter the town.

"I had no fear of German shells," she said, "but I had a great fear of
German officers and soldiers. Imagine my fate if I had been caught by
them, with my little daughter. For the first time I was filled with a
horrible fear, and I decided to fly from Arras at all costs."

With her children and the nurse, she made her way through the
streets, above which the shells were still crashing, and glanced with
horror at all the destruction about her. The Hotel de Ville was
practically destroyed, though at that time the famous belfry still stood
erect above the ruined town, chiming out the hours of this tragedy.

Mme. Duterque told me her story with great simplicity and without any
self-consciousness of her fine courage. She was only one of those
thousands of women in France who, with a spiritual courage beyond
one's understanding, endured the horrors of this war. It was good to
talk with them, and I was left wondering at such a spirit.

It was with man