showed signs of life therein. Below Argenteau there was a vine-
covered cottage before which stood a peasant woman guarding
her little domain. Her weapon was not a rifle but several buckets of
water and a pleasant smile. I ventured to ask how she used the
water. She had no time to explain, for at that very moment a
column of soldiers came slowly plodding down the dusty road. She
motioned me away as though she would free herself from whatever
stigma my presence might incur. A worried look clouded her face,
as though she were saying to herself: "I know that we have been
spared so far by all the brigands which have gone by, but perhaps
here at last is the band that has been appointed to wipe us out."

This water, then, was a peace-offering, a plea for mercy.

As soon as the soldiers looked her way she put a smile on her
face, but it ill concealed her anxiety. She pointed invitingly to her
pails. At the sight of the water a thirsty soldier here and there
would break from the ranks, rush to the pails, take the proffered
cup, and hastily swallow down the cooling draught. Then returning
the cup to the woman, he would rush back again to his place in the
ranks. Perhaps a dozen men removed their helmets, and, extracting
a sponge from the inside, made signs to the woman to pour water
on it; then, replacing the sponge in the helmet, marched on refreshed
and rejoicing.

A mounted officer, spying this little oasis, drew rein and gave the
order to halt. The troopers, very wearied by the long forced march,
flung themselves down upon the grass while the officer's horse
thrust his nose deep into the pail and greedily sucked the water
up. More buckets were being continually brought out. Some of