patrol was two riderless horses galloping madly towards the woods.
Then the two batteries pounded away with a will.

When I had received orders to resume the forward movement and my good
Chasseurs had taken up the pursuit again, the gunners had lengthened
their range with mathematical precision, and the shells burst on the
farther side of the ridge. I took a grim pleasure in imagining what
must have been happening there, where, no doubt, the division was
drawn up, and whilst I continued to direct my vigilant and expert
scouts I amused myself by picturing the brilliant troopers of the
Prussian Guard in headlong flight.

V. LOW MASS AND BENEDICTION

One morning in the middle of September, 1914, as we raised our heads
at about six o'clock from the straw on which we had slept, I and my
friend F. had a very disagreeable surprise: we heard in the darkness
the gentle, monotonous noise of water falling drop by drop from the
pent-house roof on to the road.

Arriving at Pevy the evening before, just before midnight, we had
found refuge in a house belonging to a peasant. The hostess, a good
old soul of eighty, had placed at our disposal a small bare room paved
with tiles, in which our orderlies had prepared a sumptuous bed of
trusses of straw. The night had been delightful, and we should have
awaked in good spirits had it not been for the distressing fact
noticed by my friend.

"It is raining," said F.

I could not but agree with him. Those who have been soldiers, and
especially cavalrymen, know to the full how dispiriting is the sound
of those few words: "It is raining."

"It is raining" means your clothes will be saturated; your cloak will
be drenched, and weigh at least forty pounds; the water will drip from
your shako along your neck and down your back; above all, your high
boots will be transformed into two little pools in which your feet
paddle woefully. It means broken roads, mud splashing you up to the
eyes, horses slipping, reins stiffened, your saddle transformed into a
hip-bath. It means that the little clean linen you have brought with
you--that precious treasure--in your saddlebags, will be changed into
a wet bundle on which large and indelible yellow stains have been made
by the soaked leather.

But it was no use to think of all this. The orders ran: "Horses to be
saddled, and squadron ready to mount, at 6.30." And they had to be
carried out.

It was still dark. I went out into the yard, after pul