"Monsieur Dellahousse has gone to ask the Commandant of the _citadelle_
to house us all. Here he comes."

The Russian returned under the chain of lights. "Follow me," he said,
and led them further into his cavern.

They followed him like children, and as they advanced the lieutenant
whispered: "We are now well beneath the town. It lies like a crust above
our heads. Exactly beneath the palace you will see the steps go up...."

"What is the railway line for?"

"Bread for the garrison. There are great bakeries in the _citadelle_."

Further and further still.... Till the Russian turned to the right and
took a branching tunnel. Here, lining the curve of the stone wall were
twenty little cubicles of light wood, raised a few inches from the moist
floor, and roofless except for the arch of the tunnel that ran equally
above them all. These were the rooms assigned to the _officers de
passage_, officers whom duty kept for a night in Verdun. Each cubicle
held a bed, a tin basin on a tripod, a minute square of looking-glass, a
chair and a shelf, and each bore the name of its temporary owner written
on a card upon the door.

"Twenty ... twenty-one ... and twenty-two," read the Russian from a
paper he carried, and threw open the door of twenty-two.

"This is yours, mademoiselle"; he bowed and waved her toward it. Fanny
entered the room, which, from his manner, might have been the gilded