able to verify it.

"The Germans," said she, "behaved quite well the first time they came
into our town. They were kind to the children and even gave them sweets
and toys, but on their second visit they found that some of their
wounded had had their ears cut off and they ordered that Orchies should
be set on fire."

"It was monstrous," she added, "but I know that an African soldier was
found with a necklace of sixty ears, which he had certainly taken
somewhere. This, too, was monstrous. I do not excuse the Germans for
their crime--I have lost everything myself--but if we allow their
wounded to be mutilated at such times, what can we expect? Who can say
which side is the more barbarous? I must tell you that the officer
ordered to set fire to Orchies was also told to arrest the mayor and
some other men and to have them shot. However, he gave them timely
warning to evacuate Orchies and to make good their escape, so no one was
hurt."

How far this story was true I never knew, but the effect of it on my
fellow creatures I had seen too well, and I went away bearing on my
heart the words of the woman of Orchies: "Who can say which side is the
more barbarous?"

On October 7 we heard that the Germans were outside the city and in many
quarters fear was added to the anguish already overburdening the hearts
of so many. Yet one woman, hearing the Germans were near, exclaimed,
"Say what you like, these men are just like our French men. War is war;
you cannot expect it to be anything but cruel and barbarous. The Germans
are no enemies of mine."

Her words made a bad impression on the listeners, and it was well that
the kind-hearted soul had three brothers in the French Army or she would
have been regarded with much suspicion.

An old lady of my acquaintance almost lost her head with fright. "How
dare they," she said, speaking of the French, "let the Germans take
Lille?"

"What then," said I, "of Rheims?"

"Yes, Rheims, I know it was horrible! But Lille, the most beautiful town
of the North, it is a crime to make it suffer."

Whilst discussing with me the doings of the French Army the old lady had
often argued that Rheims and Arras had had to suffer because this was
necessary to the success of the French operations. Recalling her own
words, I asked: "But what could you say if for the good of the common
cause Lille must suffer as did Rheims and Arras?"

But in her terror, forgetful of what she had said previously, she onl