n, would then make a formal entry into the capital of Picardy. The
shutters were closed; automatically the streets were emptied.

Into a deserted city, to the sound of trumpet and drum, preceded by a
staff gleaming with gold braid and mounted on spirited steeds, the
German army entered in state. All the shades were drawn in the city.
However, behind some of them drawn faces peered forth in sorrow or in
anger. In a house on the principal street was a lady whose husband was
at the front. Her father, an aged general who had fought bravely in
the war of 1870, was with her. Through the drawn shades of her home
she was watching the hated scene. And her glorious old father,
however indignant he felt, was watching by her side.

When the parade was passing by, he made a sudden gesture and said:

"Look at that man on the horse, there, now!"

The man in question seemed to have a horse that pranced a little more
than the others. He rolled around in his saddle a little more than the
others. And the two onlookers had no trouble in recognizing this
aide-de-camp of Prince Eitel's as one of the former directors of a
language school that had had a branch at Amiens!

There is a sequel to the story ... for on the afternoon of that
unhappy day Madame X and ten other society ladies of Amiens at
different times heard a ring at their doors and saw that same
individual, in full regalia, booted and spurred, enter their drawing
rooms. He came to call on them, to pay his respects, as if it were the
most natural thing in the world that he should be there in that
costume. They all had to restrain the feeling of disgust and anger
this spy aroused in their breasts. It was for the sake of the safety
of their homes, for the lives that were dear to them, that they did
this. And he, entirely unconscious in his vileness, was suave and
polite, played the man about town, recalled one thing or another,
mentioned dances and parties....

So we once more find justification for the famous definition of German
contained in Schopenhauer's famous phrase: "The German is remarkable
for the absolute lack of that feeling which the Latins call
'verecundia'--sense of shame."

The essence of this feeling which is found among the most savage
peoples is entirely lacking in the Teutonic race. And once more we
find an abominable ambush placed for French culture, good faith and
generosity.

This is not an isolated incident. When the whole truth is known, there
will be