pale yellow sky lighting up the country. I sat down in the open doorway with my legs dangling outside, and as I breathed the first few whiffs of fresh air I felt somewhat relieved. The calm around was such as to make one forget that we were at war. Darkness came on by degrees.

Suddenly my heart began to beat faster, and I rose with a nervous movement. Wattrelot too had started up from the straw he had been lying on. We both exclaimed in one breath: "Cannon!" It was a mere distant growl, hardly audible, and yet it was distinct enough to be a subdued accompaniment to the thousand noises a train makes as it goes along. We could not distinguish the shots, but gradually the dull sound became louder and seemed to be wafted towards us by a gust of air. Then it seemed to be further off again, and almost to die away, and again to get louder. There is no other earthly sound like it. A thunderstorm as it dies away is the only thing that could suggest the impression we felt. It sends a kind of shiver all over the surface of the body. Even our horses felt it. Their three heads were raised uneasily, their eyes shone in the twilight, and they snorted noisily through their dilated nostrils.

Leaning out, I saw the heads of the Territorials thrust out of the windows. They, too, had heard the mysterious and stirring music. No one spoke or joked. Their bodies, stretching out into space, seemed to be asking questions and imploring to know the truth. We came nearer to the sounds of the guns and could now distinguish the shots following one another at short intervals. The air seemed to be shaken, and we might have thought we were but a few paces off.

The train had pulled up sharply in the open country. It was still light enough for us to make out the landscape—meadows covered with long pale grass, bordered by willows and tall poplar trees gently swaying in the evening breeze. In the background a thick wood shut in the view. The railway line curved away to the right and was lost to view in the growing darkness. Now that the train was motionless the impressive voice of the cannon could be heard more distinctly. The long luminous trails of the search-lights passed over the sky at intervals.

Impatient at the delay, I got down and walked along the line to the engine. It had stopped at a level crossing. At the side of the closed barrier, on the doorstep of her hut, with the light shining upon her, sat the wife of the gatekeeper, a child in her arms. She was a young woman, fair and pale. She seemed somewhat uneasy, and yet had no idea of quitting her post. She was talking in a low voice to the engine driver and stoker of our train. I tried to get some information from her. "Mon Dieu, monsieur," she said, "I know nothing, except that the guns have been firing all day long since yesterday, and even at times during the night. The sound comes chiefly from the direction of G. Some soldiers, who went by just now with carts, told me the Prussians got into the town yesterday, but that it was to be retaken to-day; and that there were a great many dead and wounded."

My hopes revived a little. I saw at once in my mind the German attack stopped on the river Oise, our armies recovering, drawing together and driving the enemy back across the frontier. Our engine-driver explained to me that we had come quite close to the terminus, but that we should have to wait some time before we could get in. Other trains had to be unloaded and shunted to make room.

I went back to my van. Night had fallen, and it must have been about nine o'clock. The guns had suddenly ceased firing. Our lantern had burnt itself out, and the rest of our wait was made more tedious by darkness. An empty train passed us, and then silence fell once more upon the spot where we waited anxiously to be allowed to go forward towards our brothers-in-arms. Oh! how I longed to join them, even if it were only in the middle of a bloody and difficult retreat; how I longed to be delivered from my solitude!

At last, at about eleven o'clock, the train set off again without whistling, and very slowly. It went along timidly, so to speak, and as though it was afraid of coming into some unknown region which might be full of mysteries and ambuscades. In the distance I saw some signal lamps waved, and suddenly we stopped. What I then saw astounded me. I had thought we should draw up at a large platform where gangs of men would be waiting, in perfect order, to unload the train, sort out the packages, and pile them up in their appointed places for the carts to take them quietly away.

Instead of this the train stopped at some little distance from a small station standing by itself in the open country. I could make out some buildings, badly lighted, and around them a crowd of shadowy forms moving about. And drawn up alongside of our train were countless vehicles of all sorts and kinds in indescribable disorder, made all the more confusing by the darkness. Some of them were drawn up in some sort of a line. Others tried to edge themselves in and get a vacant place among the entanglement of wheels and horses. The drivers were abusing each other in forcible language. Every now and again there was an outburst of laughter interspersed with oaths.

All this time officials were running down the platform with papers in their hands, trying to read what was chalked on the vans. Enquiries and shouts were heard:

"Where is the bread?"

"Over here."

"No, it's not."

"Where is the officer in charge?"

Matches were struck. The few lighted lanterns there were were snatched from one hand by another. And in spite of all this apparent disorder the work went rapidly forward. Men climbed in through the open doors. Sacks and heavy cases were passed along. Porters, bending under their loads, slipped through the maze of vans and carts to the one they wanted and deposited their burdens.

After giving Wattrelot orders to prevent any one from invading our horse-box I slipped out and went towards the station office to look for the military commissary. I had great difficulty in making my way through the crowd of men who seemed to be rushing to take the train by assault in the darkness. Then I had to avoid breaking my neck in getting across the maze of rails, the signal wires, and the open ditches.

I got to the station. A number of wounded were there lying on the platforms; about a hundred of them, with their clothes torn, and covered with dust. They presented a sad picture. They were, it is true, only slightly wounded; but it cuts one to the heart to see soldiers in that plight, hauled out upon the ground without straw to lie upon or any doctor to attend to them. However, they had all had first-aid dressings. Below the bandages that bound their heads their feverish eyes gleamed in the light of the lanterns. Their bandaged arms were supported by pieces of linen tied behind their necks. Several of them were sitting on baskets, casks and packages of all kinds, and they were talking eagerly. Each man was relating, with plenty of gesticulation, the great deeds he had taken part in or seen. As I passed, I heard scraps of their conversation: "They were in the first line of houses.... Then, old chap, our lieutenant rushed forward.... You should have seen them scuttle...."

I was delighted to see that the moral of those fine fellows didn't seem in the least affected. To hear them you would have thought the Germans had been driven back at all points.

I got a porter to tell me where the military commissary was. He pointed out an Artillery lieutenant, in a cap with a