pinnacles. North and east of Compiègne lie the zones of the respective
armies, all linked up by telephone, and here we had to exchange our
passes, for even a Staff officer may not enter one zone with a pass
appropriate to another. But our first objective was Senlis, which lay to
the south of us between Compiègne and Paris.

The sun was high in the heavens as we turned south-west, and, keeping to
the left bank of the river, skirted the forest. Faint premonitions of
spring already appeared; catkins drooped upon the hazels, primroses made
patches of sulphur in the woods, and one almost expected to see the
blackthorn in blossom. Silver birches gleamed against the purple haze of
the more distant woodlands. The road ran straight as an arrow. As we
neared Senlis I was struck by the complete absence of all traffic upon
the roads; no market carts came and went, neither did any wayfarer
appear. Not a wisp of smoke arose from the chimneys above the screen of
trees. We passed up a double avenue of elms--just such an avenue as that
along which M. Bergeret discussed metaphysics and theology with the Abbé
Lantaigne--yet not a soul was to be seen upon the _trottoir_. A brooding
silence hung over the little town, a silence so deep as to be almost
menacing. As we entered the main street I encountered a spectacle which
froze my heart. Far as the eye could see along the diminishing
perspective of the road were burnt-out homes, houses which once were gay
with clematis and wisteria, gardens which had blossomed with the rose.
And now all that remained were trampled flower-beds, tangled creepers,
blackened walls, calcined rafters, twisted ironwork, and fallen masonry.
And this was Senlis! Senlis which had been to the department of the Oise
as the apple of its eye, a little town of quality, beautiful as
porcelain, fragrant as a rose, and as a rose as sweet. As I looked upon
these desecrated homes it seemed to me that the very stones cried out.