es with the warm
golden white of the stone, the height of the grooved arches, the flaming
fragments of old glass, when we saw the figure of an old priest come
slowly down the aisle, his arms folded. He looked at us rather dreamily
and passed. Our guide, Monsieur P., followed and spoke to him.
"Monsieur, you are the Abbe Dourlent?"

"I am, sir. What can I do for you?"

Something was said about English ladies, and the Cure courteously turned
back. "Will the ladies come into the Presbytere?" We followed him across
the small cathedral square to the old house in which he lived, and were
shown into a bare dining-room, with a table, some chairs, and a few old
religious engravings on the walls. He offered us chairs and sat
down himself.

"You would like to hear the story of the German occupation?" He thought
a little before beginning, and I was struck with his strong, tired face,
the powerful mouth and jaw, and above them, eyes which seemed to have
lost the power of smiling, though I guessed them to be naturally full of
a pleasant shrewdness, of what the French call _malice_, which is not
the English "malice." He was rather difficult to follow here and there,
but from his spoken words and from a written account he placed in my
hands, I put together the following story:

"It was August 30th, 1914, when the British General Staff arrived in
Senlis. That same evening, they left it for Dammartin. All day, and the
next two days, French and English troops passed through the town. What
was happening? Would there be no fighting in defence of Paris--only
thirty miles away? Wednesday, September 2nd--that was the day the guns
began, our guns and theirs, to the north of Senlis. But, in the course
of that day, we knew finally there would be no battle between us and
Paris. The French troops were going--the English were going. They left
us--marching eastward. Our hearts were very sore as we saw them go.

"Two o'clock on Wednesday--the first shell struck the cathedral. I had
just been to the top of the belfry to see, if I could, from what
direction the enemy was coming. The bombardment lasted an hour and a
half. At four o'clock they entered. If you had seen them!"

The old Cure raised himself on his seat, trying to imitate the insolent
bearing of the German cavalry as they led the way through the old town
which they imagined would be the last stage on their way to Paris.

"They came in, shouting '_Paris_--_Nach Paris!'_ maddened with
ex