fled moaning. The rest slung their rifles and went off quickly in a
line close under the shelter of the houses. I was left alone face to
face with the white-haired priest who still held a bottle of golden
wine in his hand. We looked at each other greatly distressed.

"_Tenez, Monsieur l'Officier_," he said suddenly; "take some more of
this. I am going to break all the remaining bottles, so that they
shall not drink any of it.... Ah! the savages! Ah! the wretches!... My
church!... My poor church!..."

And he went across his little garden quickly, without listening to my
thanks. I handed the bottle to Wattrelot, who stuffed it into his
wallet with a smile of satisfaction.

But a second "coal-box" soon followed the first. It was certainly not
the place to stay in, so I decided to be off and postpone my luncheon
until I could find a rather more sheltered dining-room. As I left the
village I saw one of our batteries moving briskly away. It was the one
that had been in action close to the village, and had probably been
the target of the German gunners. It went rapidly down the slope. The
drivers brandished their whips and brought them down upon the haunches
of their jaded animals. They had to make haste, for the position had
become untenable. The German guns were concentrating their fire on the
hapless village and the neighbouring ridge. The formidable shells
burst in threes. The ground shook. It was evident that very soon
nothing would be left there but ruins.

I resumed my wanderings. I saw then that what the captain had told me
was true. The retreating movement was beginning to be obvious. Whilst
the firing grew more intense along the whole line small parties of