rty and his
dignity had come to an end. Henceforth he was going to be an underling
at the beck and call of these men who would dispose of him as their
whims directed. Ay, why had he remained? . . . He obeyed, climbing into
an automobile beside the officer, who was still carrying his revolver
in his right hand. His men distributed themselves through the castle and
outbuildings, in order to prevent the flight of an imaginary enemy. The
Warden and his family seemed to be saying good-bye to him with their
eyes. Perhaps they were taking him to his death. . . .

Beyond the castle woods a new world was coming into existence. The short
cut to Villeblanche seemed to Desnoyers a leap of millions of leagues,
a fall into a red planet where men and things were covered with the film
of smoke and the glare of fire. He saw the village under a dark canopy
spotted with sparks and glowing embers. The bell tower was burning like
an enormous torch; the roof of the church was breaking into flames with
a crashing fury. The glare of the holocaust seemed to shrivel and grow
pale in the impassive light of the sun.

Running across the fields with the haste of desperation were shrieking
women and children. The animals had escaped from the stables, and driven
forth by the flames were racing wildly across the country. The cow and
the work horse were dragging their halters broken by their flight. Their
flanks were smoking and smelt of burnt hair. The pigs, the sheep and the
chickens were all tearing along mingled with the cats and the dogs. All
the domestic animals were returning to a brute existence, fleeing
from civilized man. Shots were heard and hellish ha-ha's. The soldiers
outside of the village were making themselves merry in this hunt for
fugitives. Their guns were aimed at beasts and were hitting people.

Desnoyers saw men, many men, men everywhere. They were like gray ants,
marching in endless files towards the South, coming out from the woods,
filling the roads, crossing the fields. The green of vegetation was
disappearing under their tread; the dust was rising in spirals behind
the dull roll of the cannons and the measured trot of thousands of
horses. On the roadside several battalions had halted, with their
accompaniment of vehicles and draw horses. They were resting before
renewing their march. He knew this army. He had seen it in Berlin on
parade, and yet it seemed to have changed its former appearance. There
now remained very little