ions are destroying the bridges
on the Marne behind them as they cross. That means that another
division is over."

I asked him which bridge it was, but of course he did not know. While I
was standing there, trying to locate it by the smoke, an English
officer, who looked of middle age, tall, clean-cut, rode down the road
on a chestnut horse, as slight, as clean-cut, and well groomed as
himself. He rose in his stirrups to look off at the plain before he saw
me. Then he looked at me, then up at the flags flying over the
gate,--saw the Stars and Stripes,--smiled, and dismounted.

"American, I see," he said.

I told him I was.

"Live here?" said he.

I told him that I did.

"Staying on?" he asked.

I answered that it looked like it.

He looked me over a moment before he said, "Please invite me into your
garden and show me that view."

I was delighted. I opened the gate, and he strolled in and sauntered
with a long, slow stride--a long-legged stride--out on to the lawn and
right down to the hedge, and looked off.

"Beautiful," he said, as he took out his field-glass, and turned up the
map case which hung at his side. "What town is that?" he asked,
pointing to the foreground.

I told him that it was Mareuil-on-the-Marne.

"How far off is it?" he questioned.

I told him that it was about two miles, and Meaux was about the same
distance beyond it.

"What town is that?" he asked, pointing to the hill.

I explained that the town on the horizon was Penchard--not really a
town, only a village; and lower down, between Penchard and Meaux, were
Neufmortier and Chauconin.

All this time he was studying his map.

"Thank you. I have it," he said. "It is a lovely country, and this is
a wonderful view of it, the best I have had."

For a few minutes he stood studying it in silence--alternatively looking
at his map and then through his glass. Then he dropped his map, put his
glasses into the case, and turned to me--and smiled. He had a winning
smile, sad and yet consoling, which lighted up a bronzed face, stern and
weary. It was the sort of smile to which everything was permitted.

"Married?" he said.

You can imagine what he was like when I tell you that I answered right
up, and only thought it was funny hours after--or at least I shook my
head cheerfully.

"You don't live here alone?" he asked.

"But I do," I replied.

He looked at me bravely a moment, then off at the plain.

"Lived here long?" h