e had lived fire and dreamed fire for half a century, but now
the world had turned to fire--his world--and he looked out upon it in
dazed wonder. He could no longer fight this fire, restrain it, conquer
it; he could only go out under the bursting shells and strive to
minimize by some fraction the destruction; but it was only child's
play, this work of his which had been a man's business. And there was
no mistaking the fact that this world was now too much for him. He was
a brave man; they told me of things he had done; but his little cosmos
had gone to chaos utterly.

We entered our cars again and went to another quarter of the city.
Everywhere were ashes and ruin, but everywhere the sense of a
destruction that was progressive, not complete: it still marched. It
was as Arras had been, they told me, before the last wall had tumbled
and the Artois capital had become nothing but a memory. We climbed the
slope toward the cathedral and stopped in a little square still
unscathed, the Place d'Armes, the most historic acre of the town.
After a moment I realized what my friends were telling me. It was in
this square that the Crown Prince was to receive the surrender of the
town. Along the road we had climbed he was to lead his victorious army
through the town and out the Porte de France beyond. In this square
the Kaiser was to stand and review the army, to greet his victorious
son. The scene as it had been arranged was almost rehearsed for you in
the gestures of the French officers.

"But William has not come," they said, "and he will not come now."
This last was not spoken as a boast, but as a faith, a conviction.

Still climbing we came to the cathedral. It is seated on the very top
pinnacle of the rock of Verdun, suggesting the French cities of
Provence. Its two towers, severe and lacking ornamentation, are the
landmarks of the countryside for miles around. When I came back to
America I read the story of an American correspondent whom the Germans
had brought down from Berlin to see the destruction of Verdun. They
had brought him to the edge of the hills and then thrown some
incendiary shells into the town, the very shells that killed the men
whose bodies I had seen. The black smoke and flames rushed up around
these towers and then the Germans brought the correspondent over the
hills and showed him the destruction of Verdun. He described it
vividly and concluded that the condition of the town must be
desperate.

They are