through the town, pulled up at the Hôtel de Ville, and asked for the
Maire--angrily, like a man in a passion. But the Maire--M. Odent--was
there, waiting, on the steps of the Hôtel de Ville.

"Monsieur Odent was my friend--he gave me his confidence. He had
resisted his nomination as Mayor as long as he could, and accepted it
only as an imperative duty. He was an employer, whom his workmen loved.
One of them used to say--'When one gets into M. Odent's employ, one
lives and dies there.' Just before the invasion, he took his family
away. Then he came back, with the presentiment of disaster. He said to
me--'I persuaded my wife to go. It was hard. We are much attached to
each other--but now I am free, ready for all that may come.'

"Well, the German general said to him roughly:

"'Is your town quiet? Can we circulate safely?'

"M. Odent said, 'Yes. There is no quieter town in France than Senlis.'

"'Are there still any soldiers here?'

"M. Odent had seen the French troops defiling through the town all the
morning. The bombardment had made it impossible to go about the streets.
As far as he knew there were none left. He answered, 'No.'

"He was taken off, practically under arrest, to the Hôtel, and told to
order a dinner for thirty, with ice and champagne. Then his secretary
joined him and proposed that the _adjoints_, or Mayor's assistants,
should be sent for.