, getting to the chateau at midnight. I always waited
for him upstairs in my little salon, and the silence was so oppressive
that the most ordinary noise--a branch blowing across a window-pane,
or a piece of charred wood falling on the hearth--sounded like a
cannon shot echoing through the long corridor. It was a relief when I
heard the trot of his big mare at the top of the hill, quite fifteen
minutes before he turned into the park gates. He has often told me how
long and still the evenings and nights were during the Franco-Prussian
War. He remained at the chateau all through the war with the old
people. After Sedan almost the whole Prussian army passed the chateau
on their way to Versailles and Paris. The big white house was seen
from a long distance, so, as soon as it was dark, all the wooden
shutters on the side of the highroad were shut, heavy curtains drawn,
and strict orders given to have as little light as possible. He was
sitting in his library one evening about dusk, waiting for the man to
bring his lamp and shut the shutters, having had a trying day with the
peasants, who were all frightened and nervous at the approach of the
Germans. He was quite absorbed in rather melancholy reflections when
he suddenly felt that someone was looking in at the window (the
library was on the ground-floor, with doors and windows opening on the
park). He rose quickly, going to the window, as he thought one of the
village people wanted to speak to him, and was confronted by a
Pickelhaube and a round German face flattened against the window-pane.
He opened the window at once, and the man poured forth a torrent of
German, which W. fortunately understood. While he was talking W. saw
forms, their muskets and helmets showing out quite distinctly in the
half-light, crossing the lawn and coming up some of the broad paths.
It was a disagreeable sight, which he was destined to see many times.

It was wonderful what exact information the Germans had. They knew all
the roads, all the villages and little hamlets, the big chateaux, and
most of the small mills and farms. There were still traces of the
German occupation when I went to that part of the country; on some of
the walls and houses marks in red paint--"4 Pferde, 12 Maenner." They
generally wanted food and lodging, which they usually (not always)
paid for. Wherever they found horses they took them, but M. A. and W.
had sent all theirs away except one saddle-horse, which lived in a
sta