"Get me some food," said the German suddenly. "We have hardly had one
decent meal since your dogs of soldiers began running. Bring food and
wine at once, so that I may go on and help to wipe the French and
British scum from off the earth."

The insult was too much for Gaston Baudel. "May I be cursed," he
shouted, "if I lift hand or foot to feed you and your like. I hate you
all, for did you not kill my own father, when your soldiers overran
France forty-four years ago! Go and find food elsewhere."

Von Scheldmann laughed to himself, amused at the Frenchman's rage. He
leant out of the window, and called to his servant and another man, who
were seated on the doorstep outside.

"Tie this fighting cock up with something," he ordered, "and go to see
if there is anyone else in the house."

An unarmed schoolmaster is no even match for two armed and burly
Germans. Gaston Baudel kicked and struggled as he had never done
before, but he was old and weak, his eyes were watery through much
reading, and his arm had none of the strength of youth left in it. In a
few seconds he lay gasping on the floor, while a German, kneeling on
him, tied his hands behind his back with strips of his own bedsheets.

"Now, you pig," said von Scheldmann when the soldiers had gone off to
search the house, "remember that you are the conquered dog of a
conquered race, and that my sword thirsts for French blood," and he
added meaning to his words by drawing his weapon and pricking the
schoolmaster's thin legs with it. "If I don't get food in a few minutes,
I shall have to run this through your body."

Gaston Baudel had heard too much of war to put any trust in what we call
"civilisation," which is, at best, merely a cloak that hides the savage
beneath. He knew that the command to kill and pillage was more than
enough to bring forth all the latent passions which man has tried to
conceal since the days when he first clothed himself in skins; that it
was no idle threat on the part of the German officer. He lay, then, in
silence, on the floor of his own schoolroom, until the two soldiers
returned, dragging between them the terrified Rosine, his old
housekeeper.

"Are you the schoolmaster's servant?" asked von Scheldmann, in French.

Rosine nodded, for no words would come to her.

"Well, bring me the best food and wine in the house at once, or your
master will suffer for it."

Rosine glanced at Gaston Baudel, who nodded to her as well as his
posit