We rode through a rich and fertile countryside. The fields stretched
out one after another without end, covering the rounded flanks of the
undulating ground with their stubble, dotted with stacks and golden
sheaves. A few hedges and some clumps of trees broke the monotony of
the landscape. Here and there farms of imposing proportions appeared
among the foliage. No shots were to be heard, nor any sound of
marching troops. And this made me so uneasy that I began to wonder
whether something had not happened during the night to shift the scene
of the fighting without my knowledge. But I was about to see something
which was to remind me, better than the noise of cannon, that the
scene of the strife was not far off.

As the daylight became gradually brighter we distinguished figures
moving round some straw-stacks--folks who had collected there to pass
the night sheltered as much as possible from the cold and the morning
dew. I thought they were soldiers who had lost touch with their
regiments and had taken their brief night's rest in the open air. But
I soon saw my mistake. As by enchantment, as soon as the first rays of
the sun appeared the sleepers got up, and I saw that they were
civilians, mostly women and children. They were the unfortunate
country-folk who had fled before the barbarian hordes. They had
preferred to forsake their homes, to leave them to the invader, rather
than fall into his hands. They had fled, carrying with them the most
precious things they possessed. They had come away not knowing where
they would stop, nor where they could pass the night. And as soon as
the twilight came and found them exhausted on the interminable roads,
they had dropped down by the stacks grateful for a humble bed of
straw. There they had stretched their aching limbs, the mothers had
carefully made up little beds for their babies, families had nestled
closely together, and often whole villages had gathered in the same