in four or five houses under the guard of a company of Zouaves who had
just arrived a half hour previously. The German major, informed of my
arrival, stood in front of the main building. He wore gold-rimmed
spectacles, his face was the type the Alsatian Hansi loves to show in
his books. He spoke very good French and even pretended that he did
not want to answer the questions I asked him in his own language.

"Show me your wounded," I ordered.

He immediately conducted me everywhere, explaining the nature of each
wound. Some were suffering and groaning; others, seeing the uniform of
a French officer, tried to raise themselves up and salute.

The German major asked:

"When they come to evacuate the wounded to Meaux or some other place,
do you suppose I shall be allowed to accompany them and continue my
treatment?"

"I don't know," I replied, "but there is one thing you can be sure of.
My superiors will act in accordance with the demands of humanity. Now
you follow me."

I led him outside to the doorstep. I pointed out the poor homes of the
village, ruined, reduced to dust. Everywhere were the dwellings of the
entire region, with their furniture lying in the mud and ashes.

"Look at that," I said to him. "That is what your men have done."

The German officer turned very pale, then very red. He answered: